Sunday Night, Coming Down (II)

So: Now it can be told--"The Shrines" is going to Michael Kelly's Chilling Tales, a brand-new (and hopefully yearly) anthology of Canadian horror from EDGE, also responsible for EVolVe. I'm sharing the TOC with lots of people I highly admire, so that's great. And money is starting to come in, too; just got an address query from Shroud magazine, who wanted to know where to send my pending check and contributor's copy for "The Underneath". That'll rock.

Otherwise, still far more thinking than writing, which needs to stop. Yesterday was my Mom's birthday, which meant most of today was spent giving her what little I could--getting Steve to take her on lines, cooking her dinner, etc. Cal began the day completely crazy, yet ended it in an oddly mellow, affectionate, responsive place. We watched an episode of The Littlest Hobo that Mom had accidentally PVRed, only to discover it starred her, Megan Followes, Neil Daynard and Louis del Grande, amongst others. "A cornucopia of bad acting," she called it; pretty bad, yeah. The faux-Bronx accent and the unblended wedges of rouge on her cheek-apples certainly didn't help.

And WOW, that show was badly-made. I mean...yeah, I get that it was shot on video, and all, but...just awful. Everything vaguely out of focus, plus the fact that I can never forget how Mom told me there were actually six or so different "Hobo" dogs, each fulfilling a different function, and the trainer was always just offscreen screaming instructions at them, which were later covered over with ADR and music: "So-and-so! ACT! So-and-so! JUMP! GOOD dog! GOOOD dog!"

Anyhow. I'm tired, and my back hurts. Hopefully things will look better tomorrow.