Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1913)
(via The Internet Archive):
My obsession with silent horror continues: this 1913 version (produced by Universal Picture’s precursor, IMP) of DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE is a fantastic artifact.
/20211028
Right deltoid agony** continues, a few chills, a bit of a headache, but, so far, response to mix-n-match Pfizer COVID booster + flu shot has been much better than that of my J&J Probably won't get in the day's run as that was what triggered my "feeling like I got hit by a train / feeling like a metal ball bat against a metal pole sounds" J& J response. Such is the T1D life: a perpetual weighing of decisions based in the balance of short and long-term consequential thinking.
Worth noting here that, technically, I'm not "immuno-compromised" but rather – well, I don't quite know the word. I tend to think of my immune system as acting akin to those missions in GTA V when Michael and Trevor smoke Barry's weed and go on hallucinatory alien/clown-blasting trips, the jabs being the weed and the immune response the clown/alien blasting trips but eventually the trip ends and my immune system returns to its state of elevated perpetual vigilance.
(I'd much prefer much immune system take Franklin's response to Barry's weed but, hey – at least the guy who gave me the jabs was a combo of Mister Rogers and Alan Alda in MASH so that was amusing.)
In other news, wrapped up the first season of WHAT IF...? and all I want now is a Guardians of the Multiverse film / series – though the lack of Chadwick Boseman will be... yeah.
Immuno-jab/weed-trip continues; the day awaits.
** I say right deltoid because, thanks my to CGM being in my left arm and that I’m left-handed, I opted to get both jabs in the right arm, on either side of my deltoid: the CGM can, if provoked (read: touched, clutched, clawed, slammed), result in no uncertain agony and, since I can’t remove said CGM until its fortnight’s up (without having to buy a new one and fuck up my schedule), I didn’t want to chance the deltoid agony extending down into the flabby part of my tricep where the CGM lives.
Links, 27oct2021
Martin van Maele's illustrated Poe (via {feuilleton})
YES: X-STATIX creative team reuinte for new X-CELLENT comic! (via The Beat).
The 'Dune' screenplay was written in MS-DOS (via Vice).
"When London is in Ruins': Gustave Doré's *The New Zealander* (1872) (via Public Domain Review).
Seattle police bust lucrative Lego trafficking scheme (via The Guardian).
COVID booster (mix ‘n matched a Pfizer to my J&J) and flu shot = complete: let the wild hyperglycemic immuno-rumpus begin (or not, whatever works: immune system, do your thing).
EarBliss, 27oct2021
My dad was a photojournalist so I grew up listening to police scanners: my favorite NTS show, youarelistening.to, merges scanners / field recordings / radio / etc over ambient soundscapes for two hours of sound collage each month. Here’s the latest episode:
/20211027
A little hypoglycemic evening aperitif before resultant rebound wake-up hyper-. PunyGod-ing of blood sugar, etc etc: Dash of variety, just add spices – mix to taste.
Blood sugar, approximately.
Added another brief little project last night (was I hypoglycemic when I did? Perhaps - but it's still a good move) because the only way I know how to talk about doing something is by doing it and then talking about it. If it isn't pure shit, might publish it here (and if it is pure shit, I only pollute the minds of 15 students before casting it off into the dumpster fire of the creative impulse).
COVID booster today, mix-n-match: J&J first shot back in March, Pfizer today. Let the mRNA deliciousness sate my immune system's schizophrenic appetites, if only for a minute. The stabs'n’the jabs, they begin.
Eight days of conelife remain.
/20211026
Rain continues while conelife remains a lesson in patience lending further credence to notion that, were I able to afford it, I'd rent an office elsewhere but I don't know of anyone willing to rent officespace to a writer making $58 every eight years in royalties (though my Ko-Fi goals of $20 a year are within reach); rolling in it.
Blood sugar returned to normal(ish) as soon as I decided to drop the NonFicThing telling of (my) T1Dlife. Work on MainFicThing has resumed in the sanctum of my creative respite, minus conelife interruptions. First chat for the next block of TSR episodes this afternoon, another chat on comics as memoir later this evening.
The day awaits, the rain does its thing. Dogchildren/conelife requirements of sustenance inbound; eight days of conelife remain.