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Yesterday was a decent enough writing day. I did 1,125 words on "Pickman's Other Model" and finished the third section of the story. HPL never gave first names for either Eliot or Thurber, and after looking into names that were popular in the late 19th Century, when Thurber (narrator) of "Pickman's Model" would have likely been born*, I have settled on William Thurber, who, it turns out, had an older sister named Ellen (I think).
Have I mentioned how much I love the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder. I do not generally tend to look at my books very much once they are published, but I'm making an exception with this one. It's been such a long road, turning this collection into a book I'm happy with, I feel I should try to savor it. This edition more than makes up for the mess that Meisha Merlin foisted upon me (and everyone who bought the book). This is probably as near to what I'd originally intended it to be as I can ever hope to come.
Byron dropped by last night, and we did dinner at the Vortex, and broke the news to him about the move to Rhode Island. I'm going to make a very short list about the things in the South I will miss, and Bryon is on that list. He took it well. Of course, I wish we could just haul him north with us. Anyway, after dinner, we watched Austin Powers (1997), which I'd never seen, and Spooky had only seen while stoned. I fear I was not impressed. I tried to be impressed, but it just seemed like the same only faintly humorous line delivered again and again. For spoofs of sixties spies, I'll stick with James Coburn and Lee J. Cobb in Daniel Mann's Our Man Flint (1966). After the movie, we happened to catch the infamous scientology episode of South Park (which I'd only seen once), and I swear, that one episode is such a tremendous service to mankind that Trey Parker and Matt Stone deserve a Nobel Prize.
Sometime back, I decided it was best for this blog to steer clear of politics, but Hilary Clinton's behavior the last couple of weeks has finally pushed me to break radio silence on the subject of the 2008 US presidential election. Specifically, her bizarre attempt to convince voters that, if worse comes to worse and she doesn't get the Democratic nomination, that the Republican's McCain would make a better President than would Barack Obama. Has any Democratic candidate ever made such a twisted, desperate bid to sway an election? It's very hard to listen to her campaign rhetoric and not come away with the impression that what she's really saying here comes down to, "Yes, McCain's the enemy, but at least he's white." So, though I hate sounding like a reactionary, I have chosen what is, in my opinion, the lesser of two evils, or, more specifically, Hilary Clinton's actions have made the choice for me. The Obama sign goes up in the front yard next week. Besides, he's kind of cute, and we surely can't say that about McCain or Clinton, and I think he's more likely to get the country out of Iraq than is the somewhat hawkish Hilary Clinton. As usual, Olbermann does not mince words:
Anyway, don't forget that Sunday everyone switches back to Caitlín Standard Time (which is sort of annoying, as I will no longer be early for everything).
* I draw this conclusion based upon Thurber describing himself as "middle-aged" and the assumption that the story is contemporaneous with the time that HPL wrote it (September 1926; published October 1927).
Have I mentioned how much I love the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder. I do not generally tend to look at my books very much once they are published, but I'm making an exception with this one. It's been such a long road, turning this collection into a book I'm happy with, I feel I should try to savor it. This edition more than makes up for the mess that Meisha Merlin foisted upon me (and everyone who bought the book). This is probably as near to what I'd originally intended it to be as I can ever hope to come.
Byron dropped by last night, and we did dinner at the Vortex, and broke the news to him about the move to Rhode Island. I'm going to make a very short list about the things in the South I will miss, and Bryon is on that list. He took it well. Of course, I wish we could just haul him north with us. Anyway, after dinner, we watched Austin Powers (1997), which I'd never seen, and Spooky had only seen while stoned. I fear I was not impressed. I tried to be impressed, but it just seemed like the same only faintly humorous line delivered again and again. For spoofs of sixties spies, I'll stick with James Coburn and Lee J. Cobb in Daniel Mann's Our Man Flint (1966). After the movie, we happened to catch the infamous scientology episode of South Park (which I'd only seen once), and I swear, that one episode is such a tremendous service to mankind that Trey Parker and Matt Stone deserve a Nobel Prize.
Sometime back, I decided it was best for this blog to steer clear of politics, but Hilary Clinton's behavior the last couple of weeks has finally pushed me to break radio silence on the subject of the 2008 US presidential election. Specifically, her bizarre attempt to convince voters that, if worse comes to worse and she doesn't get the Democratic nomination, that the Republican's McCain would make a better President than would Barack Obama. Has any Democratic candidate ever made such a twisted, desperate bid to sway an election? It's very hard to listen to her campaign rhetoric and not come away with the impression that what she's really saying here comes down to, "Yes, McCain's the enemy, but at least he's white." So, though I hate sounding like a reactionary, I have chosen what is, in my opinion, the lesser of two evils, or, more specifically, Hilary Clinton's actions have made the choice for me. The Obama sign goes up in the front yard next week. Besides, he's kind of cute, and we surely can't say that about McCain or Clinton, and I think he's more likely to get the country out of Iraq than is the somewhat hawkish Hilary Clinton. As usual, Olbermann does not mince words:
Anyway, don't forget that Sunday everyone switches back to Caitlín Standard Time (which is sort of annoying, as I will no longer be early for everything).
* I draw this conclusion based upon Thurber describing himself as "middle-aged" and the assumption that the story is contemporaneous with the time that HPL wrote it (September 1926; published October 1927).
