I can't say the story derailed. It's more like I derailed, back about three days ago. But I rebounded yesterday and did 2,141 words on "La Bell Fleur Sauvage." I should be able to finish the story by tomorrow afternoon.
Last night, we saw the pilot to Orville, Seth MacFarlane's mostly unfunny new comedy. I tend to avoid MacFarlane on general principle, but after Cosmos, I figured he'd earned enough goodwill I ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. My mistake. But not as dire as the mistake we made Wednesday night, when we watched Alex Kurtzman absolutely wretched The Mummy. As I said elsewhere, "The Mummy (2017) is an amazingly awful film. It's the sort of film that humbles lesser, merely bad films." The creature/makeup SFX were nice, and Sofia Boutella wore the title character well. But that is literally the only good things I have to say about this film.
From Facebook. yesterday: More and more, I feel like the death of David Bowie on January 10th, 2016 was the world's last magical moment before this season in Hell began. Something vital slipped away. It hits me like the elves departing the Grey Havens...
And then I got the news that Harry Dean Stanton had died. To quote Roger Ebert, "No movie featuring Harry Dean Stanton can be altogether bad." He made everything around him shine, and he graces so many of my favorite films, from 1967's Cool Hand Luke to 2017's Twin Peaks: The Return. All my heroes are fading. The landscape that has surrounded me all my life is fading away, one time-worn face at a time.