In Other News...

...it looks like I really am going to have to have an ultrasound, because (fairly regular period last month aside) these cramps are getting out of hand, so we need to rule out ovarian cysts as a cause. I also have to re-do part of my bloodwork, because it came back as registering within a scale which would indicate I was pregnant--again, unlikely. Annoyingly.;)

Symphony of Self-Indulgence

Funny that my main reaction to Mom leaving seems to have been to rush out and spend $150.00 on stuff I probably didn't need (but am enjoying a lot). Top of the list are Thea Gilmore's CD Avalanche, which I've wanted for a while, and PJ Harvey's White Chalk (ditto), followed by Flobots' Fight With Tools, Lisa Gerrard's The Silver Tree, the newish Kelly Clarkson, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Best Of, and the Cliks. That's essentially the bones of my End-of-Year compilation right there, in a nutshell.;)

I also bought the Criterion copy of Carl Dreyer's Vampyr, which comes with a massive book attached--Dreyer and Jul's screenplay, plus Le Fanu's "Carmilla". I hadn't seen the film itself for probably...ten years at least, which may be how I'd completely forgotten that the titular monster can control other people's shadows (something I seem to have unwittingly yoinked for Year Zero the screenplay). It's an odd piece overall; very powerful in sections, but badly undercut by Baron Nicholas Whatever's absolutely awful headliner performance as the least effective hero ever. I particularly like the climax, where he just suddenly runs in as the household servant does the genuine deed, all: "Oh, sorry...would've helped you kill the vampire, but I was too busy hallucinating." ("Well, was it at least good and trippy?" "Ehhhh--not bad, for the 1920s. But not exactly Epstein or Bunuel, or anything.") OTOH, Sybille Schmitz's performance as the vampirized sister (Leone) is often really, really scary, and the print--though muddy and a bit jumpy--contains some truly startling images: The reaper ringing his bells and the ferryman answering, the Doctor's floury death-cage, skulls turning on their shelves to track Marguerite Chopin as she stumps by, shadow-couples whirling hectically on the old mill's walls. And at only $35.00, you can't go far wrong.;)

So. Today I met with my old student/writing partner Michael McMaster--about Year Zero, fittingly enough. We worked through some of the act and a half of script we've already got's main problems and cobbled together a pretty efficient spine for the unwritten portions, clipping and squishing with a will. After that, I drifted home through hideous humidity, then picked Cal up from Daycare and ran some errands before collapsing. Still exhausted, and I'm not sure why; it ain't like I've done all that much. But I hope to eventually rectify that particular situation.