"Carbon planes draw a cage round the air force base."
Happy Carl Sagan Day.
Every kid starts out as a natural-born scientist, and then we beat it out of them. A few trickle through the system with their wonder and enthusiasm for science intact. ~ Carl Sagan, 1996
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Cold here in Providence. I think winter might have gotten tired of waiting in the wings. It's 45˚F, though it feels like 38˚F. I need to get the storm window in my office closed.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,063 words on the third chapter of Cherry Bomb.
Here's a fine bit from an interview with George R. R. Martin, on writers:
I've always said there are - to oversimplify it - two kinds of writers. There are architects and gardeners. The architects do blueprints before they drive the first nail, they design the entire house, where the pipes are running, and how many rooms there are going to be, how high the roof will be. But the gardeners just dig a hole and plant the seed and see what comes up. I think all writers are partly architects and partly gardeners, but they tend to one side or another, and I am definitely more of a gardener. In my Hollywood years when everything does work on outlines, I had to put on my architect's clothes and pretend to be an architect. But my natural inclinations, the way I work, is to give my characters the lead and to follow them.
There can be no doubt that I'm a gardner. To oversimplify it, of course. Good quote. Actually, in my case, it might not be much of an oversimplification. I may not have a single architect's bone in my body.
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That monster in Pacific. One of the emerging "Category 6" monsters.
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Two good movies for Kid Night last night. The first was Bradley Rust Gray's Jack and Diane (2012), and, I gotta say, this is a simply brilliant, beautiful, sweet, and, at times, horrifying film. With animation by the Brothers Quay. I like to think that if I were to make a sweet lesbian love story involving, metaphorically, werewolves, it would look like this. Both Juno Temple and Riley Keough are superb in their roles. See this film. It reminded me, again and again, of The Drowning Girl, and I hope that saying that doesn't seem too self serving. At IMDb is has a rating of 4.2 and only 9% at Rotten Tomatoes, which teaches us, again, that people are fucking idiots.
The second feature was Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate (2000), which was just an awful lot of fun. If The DaVinci Code hadn't been a pretentious load of twaddle trying to convince people it was something more than a paranoid conspiracy fantasy it might have been something like this film.
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I'm thinking too much about aging. Only too much because it's probably too much for my own good. I'm truly sick of people who say shit like "50 is the new 30." Do these assholes actually believe that humans live, on average, to be ninety years old? Fifty is the same fifty it has always been. And I hit it in a few months. And it's terrifying.
Time to make the doughnuts.
Later,
Aunt Beast
Every kid starts out as a natural-born scientist, and then we beat it out of them. A few trickle through the system with their wonder and enthusiasm for science intact. ~ Carl Sagan, 1996
---
Cold here in Providence. I think winter might have gotten tired of waiting in the wings. It's 45˚F, though it feels like 38˚F. I need to get the storm window in my office closed.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,063 words on the third chapter of Cherry Bomb.
Here's a fine bit from an interview with George R. R. Martin, on writers:
I've always said there are - to oversimplify it - two kinds of writers. There are architects and gardeners. The architects do blueprints before they drive the first nail, they design the entire house, where the pipes are running, and how many rooms there are going to be, how high the roof will be. But the gardeners just dig a hole and plant the seed and see what comes up. I think all writers are partly architects and partly gardeners, but they tend to one side or another, and I am definitely more of a gardener. In my Hollywood years when everything does work on outlines, I had to put on my architect's clothes and pretend to be an architect. But my natural inclinations, the way I work, is to give my characters the lead and to follow them.
There can be no doubt that I'm a gardner. To oversimplify it, of course. Good quote. Actually, in my case, it might not be much of an oversimplification. I may not have a single architect's bone in my body.
---
That monster in Pacific. One of the emerging "Category 6" monsters.
---
---
Two good movies for Kid Night last night. The first was Bradley Rust Gray's Jack and Diane (2012), and, I gotta say, this is a simply brilliant, beautiful, sweet, and, at times, horrifying film. With animation by the Brothers Quay. I like to think that if I were to make a sweet lesbian love story involving, metaphorically, werewolves, it would look like this. Both Juno Temple and Riley Keough are superb in their roles. See this film. It reminded me, again and again, of The Drowning Girl, and I hope that saying that doesn't seem too self serving. At IMDb is has a rating of 4.2 and only 9% at Rotten Tomatoes, which teaches us, again, that people are fucking idiots.
The second feature was Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate (2000), which was just an awful lot of fun. If The DaVinci Code hadn't been a pretentious load of twaddle trying to convince people it was something more than a paranoid conspiracy fantasy it might have been something like this film.
---
I'm thinking too much about aging. Only too much because it's probably too much for my own good. I'm truly sick of people who say shit like "50 is the new 30." Do these assholes actually believe that humans live, on average, to be ninety years old? Fifty is the same fifty it has always been. And I hit it in a few months. And it's terrifying.
Time to make the doughnuts.
Later,
Aunt Beast