post-X-mass

Still summat traumatised by what happened to my head, but by now most of the damage has been charted and things are starting to heal. I'm starting to get the scabby itchy sense of it. Guessing it's a day or two from when I begin to scratch myself like a monkey :P

But holidays are behind us and it was lovely. Calm, and lovely. No drama, no excess, no nausea from over-eating. MyMaja gave me four capsules of some natural remedy to sooth the tummy in case of crazed binging, I spent none. I tasted everything, just with a smaller spoon. The first dinner was at the General's family, they went to mass at midnight while I read bits of Rebecca (Du Maurier, 1938) or The Graveyard Book (Gaiman) currently in my bag besides Socrates and Ko Un. We had lovely lovely "don't touch my hair!" sex, before all the food, although I am sleepy a lot lately, having switched from coffee to cocoa and being awake mostly at night instead of the morning. Though bleaching my head to blisters did somewhat adrenaline me up.

As always, General was too adorable - after we've done all the shopping, he said 'I forgot a thing' and made us return to the shopping centre, manoeuvring me to the bookstore corner, as if 'well? pick one'. I got all mushy and started hugging and kissing him, but as a complete amateur, i didn't have a wish list ready in my bleached brain, so I asked to get me one from my on-line wish list - the Lens Culture Vol.1 I've had my eye on for a while. That shouldn't happen again - I should ALWAYS have at least one or two books on the tip of my tongue when I get a surprise push into a bookstore. Newb.

The next day 'dinner' was at my parent's place, a simple family affair. less fighting than usual. You can never tell with my family - either it's best ever, the coolest family ever, or they make me want to kill myself. We got frying pans, something I've been asking for for a while, since I only have one by now (having broken or murdered the previous two). Bruh gave us his home-pressed olive oil, the real deal. I haven't had a chance to get a proper prezzie for G yet, but in his case I at least have a list of possible trinkets, depending on what drops. Sniper scope for his new rifle being at the top of the list. His fav shoes being on the bottom.

People make so much food - I mean we have so much food at home right now ... It's sick. All of it so good. Between a Marlenka cake I've confiscated and everything packed in the fridge, we'll be stacked till New year's. When the entire cycle begins anew :D

Made mum the four portraits of family dogs as per their personalities: the chill Rottweiler, the Louis XIV of Kokerspaniels, the dumbfounded Beagle and a truly golden Retrieve. Spot on.Off to sleep now. It's the culling at General's family's farm tomorrow. Nasty time. I loathe the idea of murder. But I try to be scholarly about it.

Hairdresser horrors :D (Sans Nivea this time.)

And today I've learnt that, if you don't put Nivea on your scalp when your husband has another ambition to dye it bright silver, you will... well, suffering is one word to describe it. Injury would be another. The first phase, bleaching it, ended in blisters on my forehead being fried. I could feel a burning on my skin while the blanche was on, and under the fingertip I felt like a little clump or bubble. If pressed, it popped quite humorously. Audibly. I found some more. Then I began to suspect that's not some chemical reaction within the chemicals taking place, it's chemical reaction within my skin. I was popping my own scalp. I now have three burnt holes in my head. You know, for brain ventilation.

And that was just phase one. We haven't even gotten to the dye part.

Hastag Never Without Nivea Again

Not working ... What do normal peole in books ever even talk about?!

I've been trying trying trying to write a various perspectives version of a story, trying trying trying to write it light at first, as if ‘her side, his side, truth’ kinda material, or ‘slow, fast, fastest…’ The problem is world building and character arches for people I’ve never touched upon.

Namely, whether it’s crime or romance or whatever, when you are writing a NORMAL book/story, creating the characters and the world is the worst. Rules for NORMAL fiction are the worst. The leads have to have some entirely generic, Anglosaxon names like Greg and Claire or Luke and Samantha …… ffs. The lore has to be linear, they must be very normal people whose relatable world changes because of external event. I’m not saying I can’t write like that (to take a breather off Goose over the holidays), but I got fucking bored three lines in!

Here’s a ‘romance’ version of the events example. First line.

Kyle and Gracie clicked like Legos the moment their eyes met. And not in a tiny room of an empty café or something like that either, no: across the field of a summer festival arrangements, a field the size of a landing strip.  Just one of those moments, two mayflies colliding in the sky. 108 people had already been busy setting up the site between them. Kyle, a tall, dark haired with decent leadership skills was over-seeing construction of a small stage, while Gracie’s bus has only just arrived and her and her ensemble of dance, music, art and stage instructors poured out onto the lawn greeting, cheering and hugging everybody, as entertainment people tend to do (you never know who’s future audience.) Even a few hours later, when groundworks has somewhat quieted down and friends could mix or be made anew, they gravitated towards one another through the forest of other people.

                Sam, a long-time friend of Gracie’s and Kyle’s kindergarten schoolmate from before they moved, introduced them, which inspired Gracie to try and make a social joke – none of which have so far come out sounding as cool as everyone had hoped. “Your name is really Kyle?” she grinned.

                “My dear,” replied Kyle in a tone too condescending to be real, sipping the last of his soda, entertaining their circle with the performance, “my name is Kyleroy James Atherton the Fourth.”

                People, not just Gracie, paused before bursting into laughter. “You’re joking.”

                “I joke you not.”

                “Are you really rich or something?” asked Marie, another friend of Gracie’s.

                “You would think so, wouldn’t you? My grandfather had the same idea. He named my dad Kyleroy James Atherton the Third in a calculated attempt to make him sound important, because gran really really wanted dad to make it big and we'd all be rich. When dad didn’t prove to be so very up to schools he was shoved into, the tradition passed onto me. My father has no spine, he caved when gran insisted. Mum did all kinds of yoga so I'd be a girl. Then I would have been called Lucy.”

                Embarrassed, people giggled and chuckled and Sam man-hugged Kyle with one arm, shaking him. “Good story, man. Tragic, but also kinda funny.”

                “Lucy’s a beautiful name,” said Gracie.

                “Alas, her prayers weren’t answered. So ye. I’m Kyle. Pleasure to meet you,” and in the final mockery of his grandfather’s desire for riches, he took Gracie’s hand and kissed the knuckles, making everyone laugh, except the girls who were themselves slightly interested in receiving such a show, and Gracie, who blushed and imagined him naked, so, technically, just Sam and two other roadies for the band who hung out with Kyle, because he looked closer like a rock star than any of the other band members combined.

                And that is how this story begins.

Kill me now. It’s like riding a race horse with their legs tied up.

I’m veering back to the three-sided story I can use in Goose, where the characters are all crazy to begin with and there’s no cap on sex, violence or additional crazy. That’s where I feel home.

Bright (Netflix, 2017) - buddy cop movie meets Magic the Gathering

Watched Bright. It's not very good and if you skip the shoot-out scenes there's about 20 minutes of film left, but I enjoyed the pedestrian lore and the End of Watch vibe. Will Smith is always watchable. I thought Joel Edgerton as the not-too-bright but idealistic Orc was lovely. And there is one instance in which a lady is killed which is really very pretty - she turns into this glass piece of art on the wall, half alive, half energy. Never seen that before, except the usual people being cemented into walls in an instant from time to time, magic gone awry. So, I wouldn't recommend this to anyone, but certain details put into it, like the opening credits graffiti, and the concept of Los Angeles being so ridiculously violent ... Those bits I'll watch again.

Those bickering fucktards killed Krant and Tea :(
He was my second favourite shitlord. Him drawing penises to agitate TrigglyPuff during a live stream was the second best live stream regarding SJWs, second only to Bearing giving Coppercab a heart attack on his own live stream.

But of course all good things must come to an end and thus the morons like Warski and his posse and Jeff and his posse and who the fuck ever thought Based Mama is a cool person? Have you been confusing her with Based Mom?

Fuck y'all. RIP, Kraut. Your channel will be sorely missed.

For fuck's sakes – people going ON and ON and ON about how disappointed they were with the Last Jedi, how directors are more fans than authors, how this is the end of Star wars …

Are you fucking joking?! Have you ever even SEEN the original movies, they are a JOKE made for children! The acting is abhorrent, the special effects are made with duct tape, the synch job is terrible and the plot is befitting a cartoon! … Now, 40 years of hype later, with fans with pitchforks and geriatric nerds being so fucking into details they can name the brother’s hairdresser’s aunt from a BOOK written about the second cousin of a villain from the TV show based upon a meme of a second prequel, they will spot the wrong cannon on a TIE fighter, these moves are trying to please the entire PLANET. Still, all you get from everyone is ‘I hated this, I didn’t like that, I thought that was pointless, I could’ve totally lived without that…’

Fuck you, idiots. If a movie is great, it kills the franchise. If it’s entertaining, it’s the end of the saga. If it’s bad, it’s just ruined everything. Fuck you. These are CHILDREN’S movies made to sell toys and tickets at amusement parks! They’re not meant to be the great cinematic renaissance of the western pop for the 21^st century.

Go watch the originals again with a brain that high-wire to hammer the message across, and tell me how magnificently flawless and masterful those were, I dare you. Let’s see how far you get before you knee-jerk yourself into a retinal caries.

Paterson (2016, J.Jarmusch)

 

The only thing better than the movie Paterson are the reviews I'm reading about it, written by people who furiously rated it very poorly. Saying it should be used as a torture device to extract information criminals. Saying how confusing the 'wife' character was, which must have something to do with her being from a Middle Eastern culture. Saying how the clapping in the audience at the end was actually a woman slapping her husband awake. How the only interesting about it was the dog. How nothing happens and you hope it will but nothing ever does. How the retarded wife was at least hot. How there is absolutely no plot, no point, no story. Why would someone make a film like this at all?

One can derive two conclusions from people who write such reviews: one - had one filmed THEM for six days, it would make their lives and this film seem like Avengers by comparison. Two 

- these people probably never even heard of any of the authors P has on is book shelf, yet alone ever opened one of those books. 

PS

This marks the fifth film in which Driver's feet have attention drawn them. I'm noting this ever since they were filmed at least twice in close-up in Tracks.he's 6.2, his feet can't be that big. 44, maybe? General wears 46 and his feet aren't special-looking at all. 

Granted, I haven't seen most of Driver's films, because he's been known to choose stuff a little too heavy even for me from time to time...

I don't agree with the Japanese gentlemen in the last scene. I don't think translations are like showering with a raincoat on. For sure I've come across some such bad ones I'd sue the translator if I was the author. But I've read translations better than originals as well. How would people know of poems from places they've never been without translations? They are not sacred texts to be kept secret. Don't be aloof, hot Japanese poet mister. it doesn't suit you. 

Off to watch Mother! now. Unrelated. Just saying.

I now know it's possible to suffer muscle ache from sneezing :D