Neanderthal 3 (83)
A warmer, sunny day. Our high was 75˚F.
This morning I was ready to go to work on the next section of the new Tinfoil Dossier novella, only I wasn't sure what it ought to be. So, there was a lot of dithering, and in two hours of work I got only about 200 words. But these things happen, especially given the fact that I almost never outline anything before I write, instead allowing the story to reveal itself to me as I work. I frankly hate the idea of knowing how a story will turn out before I write it, because a lot of what I'm doing is telling myself stories.
If you think the legislation in Idaho seeking to ban public drag shows (and by extension all "cross dressing") is gonna be a one off and is not further evidence of the rapid and accelerating reversal in LGBT rights, you absolutely are not paying attention and have no sense of history.
This afternoon, two documentaries on Homo neanderthalensis, first the Neanderthal (with Andy Serkis!) and then the Nova "Decoding Neanderthals" episode. The former is especially well done, and I recommend it highly.
Last night's "scary" movie was Tom Holland's Fight Night (1985). Talk about a film that has aged well. Low budget, strictly backlot filming, uneven makeup effects, horriblly overlit, a score that sounds cobbled together by three stoners with a secondhand Casio keyboard, a drum kit, and one electric guitar with a heavy foot on the wah-wah pedal. And yet...it's still a stupidly fun film to watch. A big part of that is Roddy McDowall. And the creature designs, even if often poorly executed, are uniformly interesting.
In closing, Lydia relented and hence, a photo Lydia below (all twenty-one pounds of her). And Spooky and I wanted to thank you guys profusely for making our Big Cartel shop, Dreaming Squid Sundries, the success it is. Big Cartel is treating us far better than eBay ever did.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8:18 a.m.
This morning I was ready to go to work on the next section of the new Tinfoil Dossier novella, only I wasn't sure what it ought to be. So, there was a lot of dithering, and in two hours of work I got only about 200 words. But these things happen, especially given the fact that I almost never outline anything before I write, instead allowing the story to reveal itself to me as I work. I frankly hate the idea of knowing how a story will turn out before I write it, because a lot of what I'm doing is telling myself stories.
If you think the legislation in Idaho seeking to ban public drag shows (and by extension all "cross dressing") is gonna be a one off and is not further evidence of the rapid and accelerating reversal in LGBT rights, you absolutely are not paying attention and have no sense of history.
This afternoon, two documentaries on Homo neanderthalensis, first the Neanderthal (with Andy Serkis!) and then the Nova "Decoding Neanderthals" episode. The former is especially well done, and I recommend it highly.
Last night's "scary" movie was Tom Holland's Fight Night (1985). Talk about a film that has aged well. Low budget, strictly backlot filming, uneven makeup effects, horriblly overlit, a score that sounds cobbled together by three stoners with a secondhand Casio keyboard, a drum kit, and one electric guitar with a heavy foot on the wah-wah pedal. And yet...it's still a stupidly fun film to watch. A big part of that is Roddy McDowall. And the creature designs, even if often poorly executed, are uniformly interesting.
In closing, Lydia relented and hence, a photo Lydia below (all twenty-one pounds of her). And Spooky and I wanted to thank you guys profusely for making our Big Cartel shop, Dreaming Squid Sundries, the success it is. Big Cartel is treating us far better than eBay ever did.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8:18 a.m.