Second Japanese lesson in Duolingo complete, the owl’s rage duly avoided. One of the new things I’ve decided to teach myself (Japanese, not avoiding an owl’s rage, though I suppose they are kind of connected now) because dammit I’m going to go to Japan before I die and not be a typical American asshat tourist.
Had no clue that this was what my ears needed until I hit play; all of their albums Wish-list-bound.
Bit of snow this morning under seizure light's blinky gaze and, as K's off at a conference, I'm doubling up my movie-catchup routine: PROMETHEUS and ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD yesterday afternoon and evening; will post a brief thing about each – I do enjoy these smaller >six-word reviews/loggings as opposed to the longer reviews because not only do they make something I really don't enjoy (reviewing – only took 20 years for me to figure that out) into an interesting challenge but they, ironically, make me think about the work in greater depth were I to write something of greater verbosity; those words will, like all words, land at some point. Mark Korven's soundtracks to THE VVITCH and THE LIGHTHOUSE accompanying the morning: foreshadowing of the day ahead? Unrelated, probably: intriguing angle in MainFictionThing discovered. Exploring.
Wrote the first book by the light from this little lamp in my grandparents' basement when I first moved back to Ohio, 12 years ago now. Suppose it's poetic (for want of a better word) that it's now lighting part of The Paintshop. It'd be nice if some of the energy that pushed me to write that first book in five months lived inside its little gated community but yeah no probably not. Glad it’s here, regardless.
Beautiful new track from a longtime favorite:
Church seizure light continues its blink onslaught while my recovery from last evening's explosion (see Attendance Card, below) of frustration at my inability to move anything anywhere, to notch the smallest victory that doesn't have anything to do with death, to know what I want from life beyond a path that no longer seems to want me (if it ever did), at feeling like the brunt of a joke I've been playing on myself for the last quarter century, continues. All maddeningly unclear in this, my 13th year of residency in the 51st state of purgatory.
