I can hear my husband at the front of the apartment. He’s assembling a complicated Lego building, which means little plastic pieces are rattling together in the Tupperware he’s scavenged from the kitchen for sorting. He’s playing Kacey Musgraves; he’s been going through a country-girl sort of phase (with my full support).
All three cats are lounging in sunspots in the bedroom. When all the shades are pulled high, a nearly solid wall of sunlight shoves into the room. I can hear the tinny growl of a tiny airplane engine, and beyond that, construction, and beyond that, the waves of the Pacific and the trolley’s occasional bell. Pretty good day.
My husband has already posted it in several other locations (king of social media that he is), but I should declare it in my own voice too. I’ve sold my first poem, and it was just published. I’m humbled and thrilled. It’s a short work about an AI who just wants to make you happy.
Writers who are a lot smarter than I am have already written reams about True Detective. See here, and here. But whether you see the show as a funky character piece, a procedural with unreliable narrators, or a dip into a murky-deep mythos, I’ll say this: while I’m watching, I have to remind myself to breathe. Each hour intensifies a sense of sick tension that I’ve never really experienced with a TV show. The 8-episode run is more than half finished. I want the last three episodes now.
Spoilery spoiler spoiler SPOIL after the cut.
or: The Lego Movie, a mini-review
It’s old news by now that the Lego movie is a ton of fun. For an extended toy commercial, I actually found it fairly affecting. There’s something to be said about imagination and teamwork and respecting different aptitudes and not being afraid to “break” things and explore, etc. etc. It was also a hoot to hear Morgan Freeman and Liam Neeson cut loose. Well worth seeing even if you’re not escorting kids to the theater.
That is also the catchiest theme song in the history of theme songs.
Just to keep track for myself, here’s the list:
Gail Simone/Walter Geovani’s Red Sonja
Gail Simone (and a ton of others)’s anthology Legends of Red Sonja
Brian Hurtt and Cullen Bunn’s The Sixth Gun
Anything Marvel puts out that has Thor and Sif in it. I read my beloved Marvel titles through the Marvel Unlimited app, which is usually about six months behind. So I’m still getting to squee about Young Avengers “as it happens,” and Sif’s travails in Journey into Mystery, and Thor’s God-Butcher storyline, which is just fantastic. Captain Marvel (Carol Danvers version)! Hawkeye!
I’m still reading Fables, mostly because I like Bigby so much. We download The Walking Dead every month, but my investment in that seems to have tapered off altogether.
East of West! I’m still completely lost, but I love the style.
Rachel Rising, Saga (of course; it’s brilliant), the 2013 reboot of Astro City, and our latest fun find, Afterlife with Archie.
I cannot stop laughing at this, even though I am in California and have balmy(ish) temperatures in terrible drought. Polar vortex! Polar vortex!
I joined Nerd Fitness tonight (nerdfitness.com). The women’s side of things. I’m apprehensive, of course — I really don’t want to have just spent $100 on the online equivalent of an exercise bicycle that becomes a coat rack. God knows, I’ve made that dumb-ass purchase that more than once.
Then again, it’s never been the exercise bike’s fault.
Anyway. I want to learn and do enough that a) I can evaluate if exercise really does help depression; b) I grow to see my body as a cool tool and part of me again, rather than icky baggage I reluctantly tote around.
So we’ll see. Go me!
Short review: Darwyn Cooke’s graphic novel adaptation of Richard Stark’s (Donald Westlake, really) Parker novel Slayground may not hit the heights of Cooke’s adaptation of The Score, but it’s still solid, clever, dark work. It isn’t Cooke’s fault that Slayground just doesn’t give me enough Grofield.
Bonus that we bought it from one of our favorite local booksellers (Green Apple Books) at a noir film festival in a gorgeous movie palace. The Castro Theater is magnificent, and every time I whine about how expensive it is to live in San Francisco, I’m smacked in the face by another reason why the city is so awesome.