Hiya.
So, let's see . . . I've been working on the Nar'eth winter special, I've been watching movies, I've been reading, and I've been walking. I keep saying, "Oh, it's bloody well time I looked into getting car insurance again," and then I keep not doing it. One thing leads to another, you know . . . I don't even like thinking about the car and what sort of little grand breakdowns I'm likely to experience once I do have it up and running again. But, hey, that's what being part of civilised mutant art farms is all about.
Last night I watched Bela Legosi and Boris Karloff in the 1935 film The Raven. Having little to do with the Poe poem for which it's named, the story involves a mad doctor (Legosi) torturing people with a pit and pendulum, and a room with crushing walls. Yes, it was a perfect movie. Quite unpredictable, really, moving from cool mood moments with an interpretive dance based on the poem while Legosi recites part of it in voice-over, to Karloff having half his face disfigured so he's forced to act as Legosi's henchman, carrying people off in the night to be tortured. It doesn’t get better than that.
Looking at the manga section at Barnes and Noble yesterday, I released that most manga provokes a tingling sensation in my sinuses, making me feel like I might sneeze. There's just such a sweet uniformity to it all, adorable large-eyed androgynous creatures drawn precisely the same way, over and over, with the passion of a mechanic. Don't get me wrong, there's good manga. But looking at that enormous section, I can't help feeling like I'm looking at an army of howitzers in lingerie.
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