The cold got here last night. Our low was 37˚F last night, we warmed up to 53˚F, and we're looking at another freeze warning tonight.
I'm missing summer already.
An abysmal day. I think I'm mostly going to leave it at that. I got nothing done that was worth doing, and I didn't make it to McWane.
I did manage to begin reading Bukowski's Hollywood today.
Tomorrow, I got back to world on the new Tinfoil Dossier novella.
The afternoon movie was the extended cut of James Cameron's Aliens (1986). There are things about that film that have not aged well (a lot of the blue screen stuff, and the awful, anachronistic 80s wardrobe and hair). The thing that always gets me is how the one reference to "a xenomorph" in all the six alien films (eight if you count those to awful AvP things) somehow convinced a whole lot of people that the aliens are some sort of creature who are actually called xenomorphs. It was only intended as a more formal, but general, term for "alien." All aliens. Any aliens. Of any species on any planet. Xenomorph = "strange form." The aliens of the title are never, in any of these films, given any sort of name that specifically applies to them. And the whole "xenomorphs" thing just annoys me. You might as well call Klingons and sandworms "xenomorphs."
Anyway....
I had forgotten how very good Super 8 is. I feel like it's a forgotten movie.
Please have a look at
the Big Cartel shop. Thanks. Oh, Spooky says we are sold of of the Dear Sweet Filthy World audiobook.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
3:52 p.m.