stillsostrange

I fail at this daily posting thing, don't I? But Agent J likes her new daycare so much she wants to go back tomorrow, which means I get a writing day! Maybe I can catch up on my write-a-thon.

I missed my obligatory daily post yesterday. Great shame is mine.

Is anyone interested in World Horror in New Orleans next year? It's not on my usual convention circuit, but greygirlbeast is going, and any excuse for New Orleans is a good excuse. Well, maybe not in June, but I can always hide in the hotel while the sun is up.

Yeah, you guessed it. V is for vampires. And W is for werewolves. But I am le tired, and do not have enough oomph left for a coherent post tonight. So I owe you a post about chompy monsters.

I cleaned my house for 5.5 hour straight today. It was clean when company came over. I am very tired now. I was going to do G and H today, but now I can't sit up, let alone think. We'll see if G, H, and I happen tomorrow.

I just endured the Clash of the Titans remake. I knew it was bad, but reader, I did not know how bad. I was at every turn amazed and astounded at the new depths of badness this film reached. Every actor seemed surly and dejected, as if they had only read the script after they'd signed the contracts. As if they imagined every blow struck against a CGI monster to be one struck against their agents. I want to beat every writer involved to death with a copy of Hamilton's Mythology.

In happier news, I managed to revise some more whilst enduring this unfortunate film. Three flabby scenes were excised, and two chapters condensed to one. I hope I find something that needs expanding, or this will be a very slim book.

Dreams of Shreds & Tatters

38551 / 70000 words. 55% done!

Yesterday was nearly a disaster. I was working on costume stuff from the moment I enpanted to the time we left the house, and through a series of design failures and last minute fixes, we left very late. We didn't get into the car until the time we were supposed to be at the staging ground for the parade, and there was no way we'd make it there before launch time, let alone find parking. My wings were underfeathered, I forgot my tail, and I didn't have time to put in my contacts before we left the house. I was in a truly vile mood at this time.

We decided to park in our usual downtown spot, which happens to be at the end of the parade route. My plan was to walk the route backwards and hook up with the parade midway, trying to salvage something. Luckily, I managed to get my contacts in when we parked, so my plan to see the parade came to fruition.*

We walked down 6th Street and over to the river. At this point I began to wonder where the parade was. It was half an hour after launch time, and the route isn't that long. And you can't exactly miss a drumline, a brass band, and a large spider-eyed elephant puppet. We passed another couple of people also wondering where the parade was. Then we heard drums across the water. Eventually we walked all the way to the staging ground, and lo and behold--the whole thing was running late. I felt a lot better at this point.

So I got to march in the whole parade and got double the exercise. My wings were nowhere as cool as they should have been--less a griffin** and more a molting metallic chicken--but they were still shiny. (And I managed to dance in them.) I have to try this costume again another year, because I have a lot of leftover feathers and copper, and I still want to be an actual griffin, dammit.

Some grainy iPhone pics.

* I got contacts for the first time ever last week. They're the size of hubcaps and getting them in and out is an ordeal far too reminiscent of Un Chien Andalou. But I have peripheral vision with them, and that is pretty damn amazing.

** If a griffin wears leggings*** from Old Navy, does that make them a hipstergriff?

*** The true Halloween miracle was that I looked okay in the leggings. Climbing: it works.

I got stood up by my gaming group tonight, so in a fit of book-avoiding masochism I turned on G.I. Joe: Rise of Cobra. Oh, reader. Why do I do these things?

The first two thirds of this movie weren't actually as bad as I'd expected. Chris Eccleston was as adorable as ever--with bonus Cobraspotting accent--proto-Cobra was remarkably competent, and there was a hot Destro/Baroness/Storm Shadow vibe going on. (I am an oldschool Destro/Baroness shipper, and normally nothing could fuck with that OTP, but for Byung-hun Lee I'll make an exception.) And Joseph Gordon-Levitt seemed to be having fun with his lines, which is all you can do in that situation.

But, oh, the horrible, awful, nogood backstory they slapped on the Baroness. The only thing worse than killing the bad girl is to "redeem" her in a way that removes all of her agency. I hope the writers can feel me force-choking them, wherever they are.

And goddamn it! I want Cobra Commander screaming "DESTRO!" That is what he does. I wonder if JGL would do that for me, if I ever meet him...

This affront to the Baroness and my childhood must be answered. It'll have to get in the queue with the other angry refutation novels I need to write.