October 19th, 2013

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"...'cause the chase is all you know."

Yesterday I pulled together everything for Sirenia Digest #92, and I sent the files off the thingunderthest to be combined into a PDF. The issue should go out sometime this weekend.

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This is the sort of morning when I know I'm not even going to come close to writing down all the shit in my head. But. We had an extra-large Kid Night last night. We got pizza from Fellini's, then watched Francis Ford Coppola's Twixt. I can't believed this film was so poorly received; it only has a 4.9 at IMDb. It isn't Apocalypse Now (though there is a very funny Apocalypse Now reference). I think it was a nice bit of whimsy, charming, and if I have any particular complaint it was probably that the ending felt a little clipped. It's weird, and it's sweet. With Edgar Allan Poe talking about parrots. Then we watched Devil (2010). On paper, onscreen, this might be a film directed by John Erick Dowdle. In truth, it's an M. Night Shyamalan film (Shyamalan produced and wrote the film), and only someone whose never seen a Shyamalan could mistake it for anything else. Except perhaps an Alfred Hitchcock film. Shyamalan's fascination with Hitchcock has never been more in evidence. I think he used Dowdle as a sock puppet. Anyway, we liked it. I found it tense and terrifying. It is, in some ways, essentially a remake of Lifeboat (1944), set in an elevator. Now, keep in mind that I am a mostly tireless defender of Shyamalan, but if he could have gone directly from The Village (2004) to Devil (minus sock-puppet Dowdle), his career and reputation would not be such a shambles. Anyway, we followed that with the season premiere of The Walking Dead (yes!), and then the first episode of Dead Like Me (because it's been a couple of years since the second or third time we watched the series start to finish).

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Walking the streets of New York City, I was amazed and baffled and somewhat horrified at the percentage of people strolling blithely along with their attention on their "mobile devices." At least a third, minimum, in any crowd, at any given time. When and how did this happen? And I had two thoughts that I paused to write down (pencil, paper):

~ How can there be a future when all moments are compacted into the present?

~ In a state of perpetual communication, how can there be reflection?

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This morning, I found myself wishing I'd taken better (and more) photographs of The Jane. And, also, this is one of those entries that was clear in my head last night, all of a piece, eloquent, blah, blah, blah, and which I awoke to find in tatters. That said, there are more photos below, all of the hotel. The architect who redesigned the hotel (until recently it was a Very Scary Flophouse) said that he meant it to have a "Royal Tenenbaum feel," and it does, which is one reason I adore it. I feel even less like writing a travelogue than I did yesterday. Oh...and you should be warned about the extreme candor of the very last photo. Think of it as the author commentating on her current opinion of herself. Or take it as something else entirely. But I am compelled to include it.

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And Then,
Aunt Beast