Lately...
The short film is completed, except for the insertion of one song and footage from the local ABC affiliate, which I received on a dysfunctional CD yesterday. Hopefully, I'll get a working copy by Friday, which is my last possible day of editing.
Then Saturday we have another huge party/art/music show at our house with the On the Verge collective. Ember's condition for having another one here was that I perform. With all the editing and other stuff going on, I've had zero time to practice. I hope to just have a few shots beforehand and make up for my lack of technical proficiency with the verve sometimes lent by inebriation. Hopefully everyone else will be drunk by then too, and it won't matter.
The plan, until yesterday, has been to have musical acts in the back yard and the house simultaneously. Naturally, our upstairs neighbors decided to till the yard for a garden exactly three days before the party. I haven't been able to talk to them yet, but I hope to Christ they didn't plant seeds yet, since that would fuck the whole shebang over. What would we do, move the second stage to the basement?
Last night Ember and I had another of our philosophical conversations during which we continued to disagree whether human agency (or "free will" if you prefer) and scientific determinism are mutually exclusive. Don't think I'll ever fully understand her position on that one. At least she's not one of those quantum-physics-negates-post-atomic-determinism people.
We're more than 1/3 through with our audio book of The Stand, which is one of my favorite novels ever. (Interest in both post-apocalyptic settings and the building of democratic societies helps.)
Coincidentally, a couple of months ago I discovered that Marvel Comics is crafting a graphic novel, which breaks the book into major sections, and further into 5 issues for each section. I'm very pleased with the outcome. The text and dialogue is taken word-for-word from the novel on every page. The images reflect the scene descriptions exactly. I was a little worried at first that Marvel would pull punches on the gore aspect, but as you can see from the mucus choked, fly-ridden baby corpse in the second image, this is not the case.
Also about to finish A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which is quite overrated.
Almost halfway through Anne Rice's Lestat. That one has been disappointing enough that I've actually decided to stop reading it and let Ember take it for herself. Rice's descriptions - especially of internal events - are repetitive, unimaginative and less than compelling. The characters are always feeling the most intense emotion they've ever felt, even if they'd just done so three sentences earlier. And constantly laughing or crying. Take for example these excerpts from one scene:
I think that he laughed.
...and he laughed a slow riotous laugh that seemed endless.
He gave a deep laugh now...
Again came that low riot of laughter.
...I went into a spasm of crying...
I was crying.
He gave a dry cackling laugh...
He laughed again, that hollow, gasping laugh...
He gave his loudest laugh then...
He threw back his head and let his laughter stretch into howls.
I had begun to cry...
...he laughed low in my ear...
...and his laughter rose in such piercing volume, I covered my ears.
Yet still I cried.
All this in the space of about 12 pages. WTF?
Then Saturday we have another huge party/art/music show at our house with the On the Verge collective. Ember's condition for having another one here was that I perform. With all the editing and other stuff going on, I've had zero time to practice. I hope to just have a few shots beforehand and make up for my lack of technical proficiency with the verve sometimes lent by inebriation. Hopefully everyone else will be drunk by then too, and it won't matter.
The plan, until yesterday, has been to have musical acts in the back yard and the house simultaneously. Naturally, our upstairs neighbors decided to till the yard for a garden exactly three days before the party. I haven't been able to talk to them yet, but I hope to Christ they didn't plant seeds yet, since that would fuck the whole shebang over. What would we do, move the second stage to the basement?
Last night Ember and I had another of our philosophical conversations during which we continued to disagree whether human agency (or "free will" if you prefer) and scientific determinism are mutually exclusive. Don't think I'll ever fully understand her position on that one. At least she's not one of those quantum-physics-negates-post-atomic-determinism people.
We're more than 1/3 through with our audio book of The Stand, which is one of my favorite novels ever. (Interest in both post-apocalyptic settings and the building of democratic societies helps.)
Coincidentally, a couple of months ago I discovered that Marvel Comics is crafting a graphic novel, which breaks the book into major sections, and further into 5 issues for each section. I'm very pleased with the outcome. The text and dialogue is taken word-for-word from the novel on every page. The images reflect the scene descriptions exactly. I was a little worried at first that Marvel would pull punches on the gore aspect, but as you can see from the mucus choked, fly-ridden baby corpse in the second image, this is not the case.
Also about to finish A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which is quite overrated.
Almost halfway through Anne Rice's Lestat. That one has been disappointing enough that I've actually decided to stop reading it and let Ember take it for herself. Rice's descriptions - especially of internal events - are repetitive, unimaginative and less than compelling. The characters are always feeling the most intense emotion they've ever felt, even if they'd just done so three sentences earlier. And constantly laughing or crying. Take for example these excerpts from one scene:
I think that he laughed.
...and he laughed a slow riotous laugh that seemed endless.
He gave a deep laugh now...
Again came that low riot of laughter.
...I went into a spasm of crying...
I was crying.
He gave a dry cackling laugh...
He laughed again, that hollow, gasping laugh...
He gave his loudest laugh then...
He threw back his head and let his laughter stretch into howls.
I had begun to cry...
...he laughed low in my ear...
...and his laughter rose in such piercing volume, I covered my ears.
Yet still I cried.
All this in the space of about 12 pages. WTF?