I read the new Sirenia Digest to-day, a really powerful story called "Untitled Psychiatrist #2" by Caitlin R. Kiernan. In the prolegomenon, Caitlin says the story is autobiographical, though it's not clear whether it's entirely so. It does lack anything that might necessarily be called supernatural but it's certainly haunting, effectively conveying the lingering memory of a traumatic event, a car accident, and the strange, indistinct nature of such memories that can at one time seem surprisingly trivial while also being undeniably fearsome. A very good story.
Happy International Women's Day, everyone. Last night I had the pleasure of seeing 1979's Alien on a big screen, in a movie theatre, with a room full of film students who hadn't seen it. I'm taking a film class to fill out some credits I need--I've seen every single film on the syllabus but since the class focuses on classic films I have no objection at all to watching them again in the University movie theatre. Alien I was particularly looking forward to. It's one thing to see it on a big screen, but seeing it with a fresh audience was even more exciting. If you're wondering whether these kids are too jaded by modern special effects and hyperactive editing to get into the film, I can say that while I did see one woman leave in the middle of Ash's beheading, I think it was because she found it disturbing. I was pleased to see another woman jump in her seat when Dallas was ambushed by the alien. Everyone seemed engaged with the movie.
I'm optimistic about Alien: Covenant. I like the cast and I'm one of the people who loved Prometheus. I'm also looking forward to seeing if any aspects of Paradise Lost are still in the film from the period when it was briefly called Alien: Paradise Lost.
Twitter Sonnet #970
The warning came when sev'ral portraits fell.
Entire halls were worse than giallo deaths.
The rabbits all attend the servant's bell.
Aligned on cords like Christmas lights their breaths.
A tender radiator burns a box.
The chains ascend like smoke and clank the roof.
Distorted plaster mouth with echo talks.
In shaking rooms are throats beneath the hoof.
Into the drink a purple brain is dropped.
A bottled fog is bouncing through the wood.
Suspicion cut on vinyl quick was cropped.
The man, without a badge or stripe, he stood.
A goddess cuts against the rocket noise.
An act to fit her will can melt the toys.