Yesterday, I did 1,319 words on "Animals Pull the Night Around Their Shoulders," a new piece for Sirenia Digest #128 (September 2016). The title is borrowed from a Nick Cave song, "Anthrocene." Well, the title is taken from the song. It's not like I'll be giving it back.
We have great stuff up on eBay. You should have a look. Thanks. And I'll remaind you that Subterranean Press is taking preorders for Dear Sweet Filthy World.
Yesterday afternoon, I finished Aljean Harmetz' Round Up the Usual Suspects: The Making of Casablanca – Bogart, Bergman, and World War II (1992). I think the book's closing paragraph says it all:
"Casablanca potent blend of romance and idealism – a little corny and mixed with music and the good clean ache of sacrifice and chased down with a double shot of melodrama – is available at the corner video store, but Casablanca couldn't be made today. There is too much talk and not enough action. There are too many characters too densely packed, and the plot spins in a hard-to-catch-your-balance circular way instead of walking a straight line. There is no Humphrey Bogart to allow the audience a permissible romance without feeling sappy. And the studio would insist that all the ambiguity be written out in the second draft."
So, I watched Casablanca (1942) last night for the first time in a couple or three of years.
And now, I gotta make the doughnuts.