All you need to know about the new Rambo movie:
Stiffly written, woodenly acted, and indifferently directed, yet full of shit blowing up real good and motherfuckers getting killed, Rambo is fun-bad, then bad-bad, then ultimately fun-bad again, before its abrupt end.
Also from the A.V. Club—The Seedling Stars (covered in The Box of Paperbacks Book Club); Moment of Truth (as covered by The Hater): "Who would have thought that reaching the disgusting, gaping void at the bottom of our culture would be so boring?"
I ran into colleague K on the bus again, even though I was off my schedule and he's not even supposed to go in today. It was that sort of day or week. So we chatted about movies and similar until it was my stop, a couple miles later.
1. My alarm is set for X:45; I awoke the first time at X:00 and realized I had 45 minutes to go and let myself fall asleep again.
When I next awoke it was (X+1):45; I'd never heard the alarm go off, and an hour after the fact it wasn't going off any longer. So I rushed to shower and ate breakfast at a more normal pace. The result was that I managed to catch the bus at (X+2):55 rather than at my normal time of (X+2):25, so was only half an hour late.
2. I got to the bus stop, reached in my pockets, and realized I'd left my gloves at home on a chair. It was too late to turn around and get them, so I had to rely on my pockets.
3. Before I left the house I went to brush my teeth and comb my hair and noticed brown-ish water dripping from the fan in the ceiling, which hinted to me that, perhaps, there was a leak in the roof and that a puddle had developed in the attic and dripped to our bathroom, but I had no time to check, for I had to catch my bus. When I got home there was no drip, and it's too cold to check the attic, but at some point I'll have to.
4. I decided to the do the Table of Contents (TOC) today. $DEMIURGE wasn't in and was doing a bit of work from home, so I had to email her some documents. Several days ago I sent her the book reviews, to be passed on to the copy editor. While looking through the book reviews to get the information for the TOC I noticed we had a section with only one review, though I remembered processing seven reviews for that section. Either I'd failed to insert them, I'd inserted them and failed to save the document (unlikely), I'd inserted them and somehow selected and cut them, or Word just did a mystery edit on my tired ass. Any any case the master document sent to the copy editor was short six reviews, so instead of doing the TOC I spent the afternoon fixing the book reviews manuscript; then I had to send $DEMIURGE a semi-urgent message and the new document, explaining the fuckup (my doing/fault/whatever or not, it was my responsibility, and I'm surprised I didn't notice it earlier).
5. Hours later, when I walked in the co-op, I noticed my adviser. He didn't notice me, but I still had to keep out of sight while doing my shopping, for I didn't want to be cornered about an update right then.
I guess five less-than-positive things isn't that bad a count, but Friday is supposed to be a good day.
So I bought myself some chocolate ...
- Alcohol: 25
- Ice Cream: 25
- Finishing a book: 3
- Finishing a comic: 0
After work I trudged down the slippery hill (and managed not to fall on my ass) and through the snow to the University Bookstore, where I unexpectedly encountered a cadre of linguists from my department and I chatted with them while the snow coated us. Off to the Tyme machine I went, and upon my return we headed up State Street, the majority of the linguists destined for Yummy, one of the local China Buffets ("So, bring a friend. And choose wisely from the buffet items. My advice is: head for items that have been most recently restocked, whatever they might be."); another and I went further up the street to Fair Trade, I to consume coffee, read, and sketch, and she to meet with a colleague who was to impart teaching wisdom.
I didn't finish my book, but I got through a couple more chapters of Conan Doyle's The Lost World as well as the Orlando section of The Black Dossier. Most of a crossword puzzle was completed, and then I returned to my sketchbooks. I was not as productive as I would have liked; I began nothing new, and instead worked on tidying up one image and inking another. Along the way a member of a gaggle of young men to my right asked to look at a recent doodle, the page to which one of my books was open, and he evidently liked the detail and such. He inquired after the type of pen used. Then the gaggle left.
Upon packing up and preparing to leave the short woman seated in front of me inquired after the same sketch and spent some time looking at it before putting it back on the table and leaving. Since this doesn't happen very often—the last time at Zoo Station, perhaps?—I'd forgotten that leaving my current work open before me is an invitation to disaster. I figure saying "No" would have come across as rude, but at least in the future I can avoid such situations.
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