Last night I dreamt of a sort of underwater museum, where statues of Cretaceous marine reptiles and fishes were mounted at the bottom of a shallow sea. I saw mosasaurs and enormous hybodont sharks.
Where do you get your ideas? Oh, that loathsome question. But sometimes it's easy to answer. To wit, two images:
~ and ~
The first is from a diorama at the Neanderthal Museum in Krapina, Croatia, and the second is a painting by Dave McKean. Yesterday, I did 651 words on the story, which is titled "Objects in the Mirror." I'd planned it to go to 6,000 words, but it wanst to go to 10,000. And...I think I may have told you that yesterday.
When I heard that the new Ghostbusters film, directed by Paul Feig, would be "gender-flipped," I thought, God, that's fucking brilliant! And I've been eagerly awaiting the film. Then, two days ago, I saw the first trailer. And I wanted to cry. Never mind that the whole film projects a weird squeaky cleanness that is entirely at odds with the grime and grit of the original, there seems not to be one iota of wit to the film's comedy. Yes, Ramis and Aykroyd's film was lowbrow, but it was very, very smart. I know that's a fine line, but it's a crucial one. And yeah, the whole thing with Melissa McCarthy and the apparent requirement that a black Ghostbuster has to be a working class and lacking a college education, that, too. A great opportunity has been missed here.
Oh, and March 25th marks both the birthday of Flannery O'Connor's birthday and the fall or Sauron. Make of that what you will.
And on that note, I gotta scoot.