Kicking a peach pit till I worry it's blue
Generally I appreciate axial tilt, but not always the resemblance between walking out for groceries at four-thirty in the afternoon of a hard-raining November and an all-night convenience store run. The brightest thing that wasn't the headlights was the scarlet maple in the war memorial.
It is incredible to me that I have been laid off for a month and gotten so little done with my theoretically free time. Mostly I seem to spend it the same kind of exhausted and seeing more doctors than anyone else. I keep reminding myself that I was supposed to be on medical leave, not vacation. It does not improve the sensation of a decaying orbit.
Immediately on concluding Lust for a Vampire (1971),![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch and I dubbed it Tits for Dracula for its plenitude of full-frontal yet curiously unsexy cleavage, as if it were enough just to have the buxom playmates of its Styrian girls' school breasting boobily all over with their tops occasionally falling down even as any of its exploitation potential as a Carmilla retelling is neutralized by the heterosexuality of its titular affair. Major props to Ralph Bates for turning himself into a horrible little gremlin of an occult-obsessed tutor who in one of the film's only original points tries to offer himself to its resurrected Mircalla Karnstein as her Renfield and is pathetically rejected, drained just enough to kill but not even to enthrall him. Major demerits for the post-dubbing of a modern pop ballad over the aforementioned central het scene from which neither of us ever recovered even a push-up of disbelief. Rob swears it was not in revenge that he introduced me to the googly-eyed marionette monster of The Giant Claw (1957).
This obituary of James Watson was like witnessing a murder from beyond the grave and he had it coming.
It is incredible to me that I have been laid off for a month and gotten so little done with my theoretically free time. Mostly I seem to spend it the same kind of exhausted and seeing more doctors than anyone else. I keep reminding myself that I was supposed to be on medical leave, not vacation. It does not improve the sensation of a decaying orbit.
Immediately on concluding Lust for a Vampire (1971),
spatch and I dubbed it Tits for Dracula for its plenitude of full-frontal yet curiously unsexy cleavage, as if it were enough just to have the buxom playmates of its Styrian girls' school breasting boobily all over with their tops occasionally falling down even as any of its exploitation potential as a Carmilla retelling is neutralized by the heterosexuality of its titular affair. Major props to Ralph Bates for turning himself into a horrible little gremlin of an occult-obsessed tutor who in one of the film's only original points tries to offer himself to its resurrected Mircalla Karnstein as her Renfield and is pathetically rejected, drained just enough to kill but not even to enthrall him. Major demerits for the post-dubbing of a modern pop ballad over the aforementioned central het scene from which neither of us ever recovered even a push-up of disbelief. Rob swears it was not in revenge that he introduced me to the googly-eyed marionette monster of The Giant Claw (1957).This obituary of James Watson was like witnessing a murder from beyond the grave and he had it coming.
Re: *
I like "spirals for Rosalind Franklin."
I do forget the exact page which made me throw it against the wall, though. I used to remember that.
Any one, really, would do.