My grandfather's pool table is de-slated and all that remains is to tear down the frame and the rest of my back. Friday's job.
un-unmoored-ness
Returned to working first thing in the morning and it's already helped ameliorate the sense of unmoored-ness that's been omnipresent the last several months – even before autumn's project management of another death and subsequent emptying (12th move in 23 years). Haven't really had a day alone in months, since the end of last school year: no matter how much I love the company, it wears on me. Apparently I need to be removed from the world when it's dark and skulk about in those of my own creation to prepare me for life in daylight; the work of others can – must – wait.
Eggers’s NOSFERATU - first image
Definitely nails the feel of Murnau’s original. Love that, according to Eggers, “It’s even more Ellen’s story than previous versions.” Can’t wait for this.
sitrep/20231120
After being in various stages of fuck if I know for much of the year, moved the main story for second PRESS (A) TO START release from the brain-vomit of my Obsidian canvas to a single text document for revisions and making it read less like the semi-assembled scraplings emergent between two distinct epochs (before my grandfather died and after) and more like something worth reading (though still possessed of my glitchy, channel-changing rhythm, if you think that's readable to begin with).
Grandfather house emptying continues though now I'm past the "disassemble everything except the pool table and depersonalize it so you don't feel like you're working in a mausoleum" stage and have moved to the "preparing it for people to help so you can concentrate on disassembling the pool table" stage which is more difficult than doing all of it by myself.
SCOTT PILGRIM TAKES OFF is all kinds of wonderful. A bit strange, though, hearing the same voices as Wright's film with different music...