My recent life in pictures–everything from the CHILD OF A HIDDEN SEA copy-edits and Minnow’s last portrait to dinosaurs and some funny faced selfies.
Another round of captioned snapshots, some from Nuit Blanche, others from last weekend’s holiday run to Calgary.
I’m in the break between teaching courses, so Friday I caught the ferry to Toronto Island. Here’s some of what I saw.
A random scattering of things: me, Kelly, cats, bits of past trips and many things seen around Toronto. All captioned, if you happen to float your mouse over them.
It has been a balmy week and the leaves are just starting to turn. I made it out to the Evergreen Brickworks to take photos, and found it very beautiful indeed. I’m in the quiet space between UCLA classes–Novel Writing One starts in another week–and so today I might do a little more wandering and photo-snapping.
The courtyard in our building is nearing completion. The water feature is running and has gorgeous blue lights, and they’ve brought in some lounge furniture. The TV screen above the fireplace is still getting work. All of this was meant to be done in the spring so the building folks could project silent films in the yard while all we inhabitants socialized. There might be a bit of that, still, before winter comes. If nothing else, it’ll be nice not to have the noise of a construction crew under my window all day while I’m working.
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. was charming. I don’t love any of the new-to-me characters yet. I’d have much preferred J. August Richards for the Riker character. (By whom I mean Agent Ward, a.k.a. “The Poop.)
The story was just so-so, I thought, but the geeks show some promise and I did really like the pilot, Melinda May. And of course it was delightful to see Phil Coulson being a) not dead and b) perky about it.
Riley’s back. Yawn? It’s all here at Tor.
I was out and about quite a bit this week, and often away from the Internet. Most of it was mentoring gig business–gearing up, essentially, to get back to my usual two days a week on that front. So there hasn’t been much in the way of pictures or posting.
We did go to the monthly ChiSeries reading on Wednesday; our friend Caitlin Sweet was reading from her new book, which is a) awesome; b) YA; c) about Ariadne and the Minotaur. As usual, Kari Maaren performed some new filky works between sets. Here’s her take on Disney princesses and the identity of the true princess of Star Wars.
Actually, this time it’s just in the right order, with the new stuff in the blog entry. Or I hope it is.
Muppet, you’re one of the folks I have in mind when I post these, because you don’t see my Instagram feed or Facebook. Let me know if it’s all a big yawn, willya?
In my home it is taken as a given (or, possibly, holy writ) that Ghostbusters is the most quotable movie ever. But yesterday I was grabbing a couple bites of grilled chicken for breakfast and I found myself saying, “I gotta get some chicken in me.”
Which is from Unbreakable. A movie I liked well enough to see several times when it was fairly new, but not enough to have watched again for years. The movie’s no longer a fave, and yet the line remains: a few times a year when we’re having or about to have chicken, or we’re hungry, one or the other of us will say it.
Media products do this: they fill your mind with heavily contextualized bookmarks, scraps of verbiage that come out when a certain situational trigger is pulled. Sometimes they’re universally recognizable; other times, they only make sense to you. Does anyone else have that chicken line embedded in their mental operating system? I doubt it. But many of you probably know and possibly use “Nuke the site from orbit!” or “They just keep pulling me back in!” or, more recently, “May the odds be ever in your favor,” to form connections with the people we’re talking to by drawing on our shared cultural experiences.
This morning when I was changing the sheets, Kelly asked if I needed help. “I have help,” I replied, which was my way of making a joke of the fact that Rumble had embedded himself in the process. He looooves to play with bed linens. He climbs under the fitted sheet and tries to see through it and bat at everything that passes overhead.
As I said this I thought, as I always do when someone’s being unhelpfully helpful: Good Smeagol always helps.
So. “Gotta get some chicken in me,” is the bit of Unbreakable that I carry around. If Bruce Willis’s character hadn’t been so taciturn, maybe I’d have something more memorable.