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It was *so* nice hosting good company for the last week. Lots of writing talk was had, stories were mutually read, and a long and relaxing 4th of July was spent in the company of old characters. It felt really, really excellent to be gaming again. I missed rolling those dice, and I missed Barty and Missy. We showed up on a mirror-planet to our original universe and stuck our noses where they didn't belong, as per usual, running afoul of the Vatican's secret time police. I *really* hope we get to continue sessions online, because this is A Good Plot.
What else did we do? Play some Rock Band, have a few writing dates, go out to eat far too much (entirely our fault. What a wonderful excuse to do things we shouldn't.) Watched Cabin in the Woods with Jen on Friday night. She reacted with as much glee as we'd hoped.
An extremely refreshing week in the social/creative categories, like a gentle coast through space post supernova. Ready to buckle down and tackle more book, and start reading me some grammar guides. The story A. read had a few grammar issues that I couldn't see, so it's time to brush up on the basics and dive head first into advanced grammar.
***
All the rain means my yard looks like a jungle. I started the deforestation yesterday by going at the bigger, woodier weeds with a pair of murder-shears. All weeds shall fall and wither before my mighty will! Then I got hot an bored so, uh, no more of that. I'm so amused by how vicious yard-implements look-- weed-whips, pruning shears, lawnmowers, those horrifying instruments with the spiky, rolling things at the end. The all look like torture tools. I'm having a hard time not cackling like an inquisitor while doing yard work.
The climbers are attacking from the Pit side. I need to find my wellies to wade into that mess: poison ivy up to the knee and god knows what else. I'm not sure what to do to take it all out . . . other than wait for winter.
***
Saw Superman. Enjoyed it enough. The disaster porn was disaster-porny, and we all know I can't help but drool over crumpling buildings and mangled cars. And The Big Divisive Moment didn't feel as wrong to me as I thought it would-- Cavill sold me on the anguish and necessity. Which is good! Because for the rest of the movie, Superman seems to give about as much of a shit as a constipated muskrat. I don't know-- I loved Lois, I loved Zod, Fanora was fantastic . . . but overall I felt like these were characters ready to come into their own, doing cool things, who would at critical points have their strings jerked by an off screen puppeteer and recite lines or make choices that I found *baffling*. I can wrap my head around a Superman who Does The Thing, but I cannot wrap my brain around a Superman *who does not spend the time trying to evacuate people*. I actually felt icky over how many folk I knew were dying, unseen and unthought of by the pinnacle of compassion. plus there were some really big plot holes that made me have to chew on my own tongue to keep from arguing with the movie screen.
Zack Snyder, man. Zack Snyder feels like the dude who has some really amazing, really moving ideas, and never figured out the intricacies of storytelling needed to properly convey them. I think he really feels potently about the properties he takes on, but just . . . does not have the language to (paraphrasing Stephen King here)make a telepathic link with his audience, where they are feeling what you're feeling, moved by what moves you. He substitutes flash for lack of a larger storytelling vocabulary.
What else did we do? Play some Rock Band, have a few writing dates, go out to eat far too much (entirely our fault. What a wonderful excuse to do things we shouldn't.) Watched Cabin in the Woods with Jen on Friday night. She reacted with as much glee as we'd hoped.
An extremely refreshing week in the social/creative categories, like a gentle coast through space post supernova. Ready to buckle down and tackle more book, and start reading me some grammar guides. The story A. read had a few grammar issues that I couldn't see, so it's time to brush up on the basics and dive head first into advanced grammar.
***
All the rain means my yard looks like a jungle. I started the deforestation yesterday by going at the bigger, woodier weeds with a pair of murder-shears. All weeds shall fall and wither before my mighty will! Then I got hot an bored so, uh, no more of that. I'm so amused by how vicious yard-implements look-- weed-whips, pruning shears, lawnmowers, those horrifying instruments with the spiky, rolling things at the end. The all look like torture tools. I'm having a hard time not cackling like an inquisitor while doing yard work.
The climbers are attacking from the Pit side. I need to find my wellies to wade into that mess: poison ivy up to the knee and god knows what else. I'm not sure what to do to take it all out . . . other than wait for winter.
***
Saw Superman. Enjoyed it enough. The disaster porn was disaster-porny, and we all know I can't help but drool over crumpling buildings and mangled cars. And The Big Divisive Moment didn't feel as wrong to me as I thought it would-- Cavill sold me on the anguish and necessity. Which is good! Because for the rest of the movie, Superman seems to give about as much of a shit as a constipated muskrat. I don't know-- I loved Lois, I loved Zod, Fanora was fantastic . . . but overall I felt like these were characters ready to come into their own, doing cool things, who would at critical points have their strings jerked by an off screen puppeteer and recite lines or make choices that I found *baffling*. I can wrap my head around a Superman who Does The Thing, but I cannot wrap my brain around a Superman *who does not spend the time trying to evacuate people*. I actually felt icky over how many folk I knew were dying, unseen and unthought of by the pinnacle of compassion. plus there were some really big plot holes that made me have to chew on my own tongue to keep from arguing with the movie screen.
Zack Snyder, man. Zack Snyder feels like the dude who has some really amazing, really moving ideas, and never figured out the intricacies of storytelling needed to properly convey them. I think he really feels potently about the properties he takes on, but just . . . does not have the language to (paraphrasing Stephen King here)make a telepathic link with his audience, where they are feeling what you're feeling, moved by what moves you. He substitutes flash for lack of a larger storytelling vocabulary.
