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greygirlbeastHere's the ruckus. There are three things in my life that bring me joy, without fail. What's more, each of these things is, essentially, free. No, I'll not tell you what those three things are. But, because I am not an utter cocksucker, I will say that one of them isn't writing, and if anyone should happen to guess what the other three are, I'll confirm. And send you a banana sticker. Oh, there would be four things that bring me joy, without fail, but it doesn't seem fair to include heroin on the list. Also, I lied about the banana stickers.
No, not having a good day. I'm afraid to go to sleep at night, because all I hear is a clock ticking very loudly.
Also, to harp and beat dead horses, the whole thing with emoticons and l33t, maybe you don't notice anyone thinking you're an idiot when you use XD or <.< or lol***, but maybe that's because you've begun keeping the company of idiots...or maybe you always did. Just a thought. Take it or fucking leave it be. Oh, Caitlín! Will you not ever learn you catch more flies with honey, and a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down? Problem is, it's a lot more satisfying hitting the Bad Things with baseball bats.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,261 words on the still untitled Mars story for Sirenia Digest 69. I mean to finish it today, which makes me eager to think of a title.
Last night, we watched André Øvredal's Trolljegeren (2010; aka Trollhunter). And, fuck me, but never in a million years would I have expected this to be a brilliant little movie. All I can say is see it, and if you read the description first, don't let that affect how you approach the film. You've got to go in with an open mind. I was only just barely able to, but I'm very grateful I was. Want to know what awesome really means, or, for that matter, awful? See this movie. The climactic creature encounter is, truly, genuinely, both awesome and awful. Four thumbs way, way up. Oh, it doesn't hurt if you love the art of people like Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) and John Baur (1882-1918) and have at least a passing familiarity with Nordic mythology.
Now...photographs from August 29th (the day we drove to Watch Hill, then east again to Narragansett), after Irene passed over us, and left the sea angry and ill:
Looking down Lighthouse Road at Watch Hill, to the south, towards, well, the lighthouse.
Looking out across Little Narragansett Bay towards Napatree Point, view to the west. The low afternoon sun was not helping.
Now, parked near the lighthouse at Watch Hill, looking northeast towards East Beach. Katharine Hepburn was swimming right about here when she saw the approach of the Great Hurricane of 1938.
Again, East Beach. I began to notice rainbows on the backs of the breakers. Kathryn was able to catch a couple of halfway decent photographs of them.
Another "wavebow."
The Lighthouse at Watch Hill, view to the south.
Now, skip ahead to Moonstone Beach. This sign between Card and Trustom Pond, and you would think this would be a case of unnecessary signage, but you'd be wrong.
We last saw this stone and mortar wall (or whatever it is) uncovered by some other hurricane. Usually, I think it's under about a foot of sand.
Ground view, forced perspective shot from sand to sea. View to the south.
An angry sea. Waves about chest high, and filled with detritus (mostly seaweed and dead fish) to the point that they were black. Most beaches had high-bacteria warnings posted in the wake of Irene. View to the south.
Moonstone, looking...wrong. Hardly any cobbles, and you never see these sandbars there. View to the west.
Another artifact usually well covered by the sand.
Closeup of the sandbar, and note the rose hip in the foreground, view to the southwest.
High seas (25+ feet) over-topped the barrier dunes and flowed down into Trustom Pond. View to the north. It must have been a sight to see.
Same with Card Pond, also view to the north. This is at low tide, by the way.
All photographs Copyright © 2011 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
*** Or, for example, ;-), :-), o.0, >.>, :-P, ad infinitum. And, for the record, yes, I've caught myself doing this, especially on SL, but I do my best to remind myself it makes me look like an idiot.
No, not having a good day. I'm afraid to go to sleep at night, because all I hear is a clock ticking very loudly.
Also, to harp and beat dead horses, the whole thing with emoticons and l33t, maybe you don't notice anyone thinking you're an idiot when you use XD or <.< or lol***, but maybe that's because you've begun keeping the company of idiots...or maybe you always did. Just a thought. Take it or fucking leave it be. Oh, Caitlín! Will you not ever learn you catch more flies with honey, and a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down? Problem is, it's a lot more satisfying hitting the Bad Things with baseball bats.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,261 words on the still untitled Mars story for Sirenia Digest 69. I mean to finish it today, which makes me eager to think of a title.
Last night, we watched André Øvredal's Trolljegeren (2010; aka Trollhunter). And, fuck me, but never in a million years would I have expected this to be a brilliant little movie. All I can say is see it, and if you read the description first, don't let that affect how you approach the film. You've got to go in with an open mind. I was only just barely able to, but I'm very grateful I was. Want to know what awesome really means, or, for that matter, awful? See this movie. The climactic creature encounter is, truly, genuinely, both awesome and awful. Four thumbs way, way up. Oh, it doesn't hurt if you love the art of people like Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) and John Baur (1882-1918) and have at least a passing familiarity with Nordic mythology.
Now...photographs from August 29th (the day we drove to Watch Hill, then east again to Narragansett), after Irene passed over us, and left the sea angry and ill:
Looking down Lighthouse Road at Watch Hill, to the south, towards, well, the lighthouse.
Looking out across Little Narragansett Bay towards Napatree Point, view to the west. The low afternoon sun was not helping.
Now, parked near the lighthouse at Watch Hill, looking northeast towards East Beach. Katharine Hepburn was swimming right about here when she saw the approach of the Great Hurricane of 1938.
Again, East Beach. I began to notice rainbows on the backs of the breakers. Kathryn was able to catch a couple of halfway decent photographs of them.
Another "wavebow."
The Lighthouse at Watch Hill, view to the south.
Now, skip ahead to Moonstone Beach. This sign between Card and Trustom Pond, and you would think this would be a case of unnecessary signage, but you'd be wrong.
We last saw this stone and mortar wall (or whatever it is) uncovered by some other hurricane. Usually, I think it's under about a foot of sand.
Ground view, forced perspective shot from sand to sea. View to the south.
An angry sea. Waves about chest high, and filled with detritus (mostly seaweed and dead fish) to the point that they were black. Most beaches had high-bacteria warnings posted in the wake of Irene. View to the south.
Moonstone, looking...wrong. Hardly any cobbles, and you never see these sandbars there. View to the west.
Another artifact usually well covered by the sand.
Closeup of the sandbar, and note the rose hip in the foreground, view to the southwest.
High seas (25+ feet) over-topped the barrier dunes and flowed down into Trustom Pond. View to the north. It must have been a sight to see.
Same with Card Pond, also view to the north. This is at low tide, by the way.
All photographs Copyright © 2011 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
*** Or, for example, ;-), :-), o.0, >.>, :-P, ad infinitum. And, for the record, yes, I've caught myself doing this, especially on SL, but I do my best to remind myself it makes me look like an idiot.
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 03:51 am (UTC)I loathed that piece of crap Wolf Creek for so many reasons. Don't even start me.
But no, The Tunnel was ace. They held the ambiguity and mystery right til the end, even when the Something was right there, breathing into the camera, and you still never clearly see it, never dispell it, never shine a light on it and dissect and explain it so you can reassure yourself there's nothing, truly, to be afraid of.