I got the news on the 18th that my cousin Jack (Julius Theodore Cage, b. 1960) had died. It was his mother who died in November, my Aunt Joanne. Jack and I were very close when I was a kid and a teenager, but I'd not seen him since 2005, at my grandmother's funeral; somehow that made it all the worse.
I had a guest from Athens most of this past week, but I didn't see much of her.
I'm racing to do a final polish (with some minor text additions) to The Tindalos Asset, and I still haven't finished The Cerulean Alphabet, so the digest will be a few days late this month.
I didn't even make it into McWane this week.
Oh, yesterday I got copies of the German edition of The Drowning Girl, so that's something. And we discovered a truly brilliant series on Hulu called Reprisal. It's in the running for the best thing I have ever seen on television, and it's certainly the best since Season One of True Detective. So, there – a ray of sunshine.
We finished The Magicians through the two new episodes. And tonight we begin watching the final few episodes of The Ranch. But the last batch was so grim, following the loss of Danny Masterson, it's going to be a sad thing, I know.
I read Jack London's Call of the Wild, and I'm partway into White Fang. It's hard to believe I waited this long to read a novel by a man who surely is one of the greatest novelists in American literature. I'm also reading Mallory O'Meara's The Lady from the Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Milicent Patrick. The stuff about Patrick's interesting, but the book suffers the way all biographies suffer when the author seeks to make the story as much about herself as her subject. In this case, O'Meara makes it worse by using someone else's life to advance her own political agenda.
I don't think the camera on my iPhone is long for the world. It keeps developing odd spots on the photos. They move around. They vanish. They return. But it's probably for the best.
Sick of the Shitty 21st Century,