Fuck you, October. Once upon a time, I did not hate October. I hated autumn, in general, since I was a kid, but October got a pass, because of Halloween. My enthusiasm for Halloween waned years ago, and now October 1 marks the beginning of autumn on my head calendar, and so I fucking hate it. Add to that the much cooler weather in New England. Yesterday was a dismal, wet last day of September. Currently, it's 58˚F and sunny.
If I have a "superpower," it's the power to always make my situation worse, no matter how bad it may be.
Yesterday, I waded back into Black Helicopters and tried to pick up where I left off on a scene I last worked on in late July. I didn't get very far. I'll try harder today. I need to plow through this Black Helicopters stuff in the next few days.
A nightmare this morning, and I won't go into the details, but someone I used to admire, a former mentor, said, "I honestly expected more of you." And he also said, "We're starting not to miss you." Right.
Though I'd hardly recovered from the masterful final episode of Twin Peaks: The Return, last night, Kathryn and I finally watched Trey Edward Shults' It Comes at Night. I suppose that it's a very effective post-apocalyptic/psychological thriller. But I just cannot watch "horror" films anymore. post-November, I no longer have what it takes. The message of It Comes at Night seems to be "When terrified and desperate, human beings will do unspeakable things to one another. Even good people will do this." But we know that. I no longer see any need to keep repeating that particular truth. And we know that humans don't have to be scared and desperate to commit atrocities. It's a given. A hard, cold fact. No need to say it again. This is why, for example, I stopped watching The Walking Dead at the beginning of the last season. I just can't do it anymore. My nerves are shot. My constitution not longer permits "terror and horror as anything remotely resembling entertainment." And given my vocation, this puts me in a very difficult situation.
I'm very tired.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
10:45 a.m., today
If I have a "superpower," it's the power to always make my situation worse, no matter how bad it may be.
Yesterday, I waded back into Black Helicopters and tried to pick up where I left off on a scene I last worked on in late July. I didn't get very far. I'll try harder today. I need to plow through this Black Helicopters stuff in the next few days.
A nightmare this morning, and I won't go into the details, but someone I used to admire, a former mentor, said, "I honestly expected more of you." And he also said, "We're starting not to miss you." Right.
Though I'd hardly recovered from the masterful final episode of Twin Peaks: The Return, last night, Kathryn and I finally watched Trey Edward Shults' It Comes at Night. I suppose that it's a very effective post-apocalyptic/psychological thriller. But I just cannot watch "horror" films anymore. post-November, I no longer have what it takes. The message of It Comes at Night seems to be "When terrified and desperate, human beings will do unspeakable things to one another. Even good people will do this." But we know that. I no longer see any need to keep repeating that particular truth. And we know that humans don't have to be scared and desperate to commit atrocities. It's a given. A hard, cold fact. No need to say it again. This is why, for example, I stopped watching The Walking Dead at the beginning of the last season. I just can't do it anymore. My nerves are shot. My constitution not longer permits "terror and horror as anything remotely resembling entertainment." And given my vocation, this puts me in a very difficult situation.
I'm very tired.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
10:45 a.m., today
- Current Location:Providence, RI
- Current Mood:low
- Current Music:Lord Huron, "The Night We Met"
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