An e-zine about spaceships, aliens, science, memory, motherhood, magic, and cats.
The six-year-old, singing quietly to himself, “Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees. And we’re too busy singing to put anybody down.”
A slight pause, followed by the six-year-old interrupting his own song with the observation, “They are pretty busy singing. That’s true.”
Sometimes my brain constructs new versions of Scream while I’m asleep. Technically, this is nightmares — a masked serial killer tries to murder me. But I like the Scream franchise and didn’t mind.
Until my brain started including my kids.
There’s a reason there are no small children in Scream.
That feeling when you’re listening to rare music by an artist you like, and you keep turning it one notch up and then one notch down, trying to find a magical volume level at which it’s actually good… and yeah, that’s probably why it’s rare…
Wow, my teeth-crumble-in-my-mouth nightmares have gotten stubborn.
Generally, if my teeth crumble, I know it’s a dream, so it’s over soon. In the latest though, I kept explaining how I must be dreaming all the way through a hospital trip. Continue reading “Crumbling Teeth”
That feeling when you’re trying to pace yourself on a long project but also push yourself to write as fast as you can, and you can’t seem to agree with yourself on a leadership style for dealing with yourself.
The more I see of pandas, the more I love them.
Look, pandas are just really lovable.
I’m approaching the end of Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, and I’m just totally baffled about how they’ll give it a satisfying end, given that it’s a prequel to a movie that’s set post-gelfling genocide and mid-podling genocide.
That’s a challenging mark to hit. Continue reading “Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance”
That feeling when you’re trying to balance the names of the characters in a space opera novel so that they don’t all start with the same letter, and you end up staring at a bunch of letters, shuffling them around, until written language doesn’t mean anything anymore…
That feeling when you’re tempted to write an essay explaining how Heathers is a better musical than Les Miserables. But there are probably better uses of your time, so you try to let the feeling pass.
Under 1978 copyright law, Spider-Man would have entered the public domain in 2019.
I just saw someone arguing that public domain Spider-Man would be a nightmare, cause then people could make him trans/gay/bi/etc.
Copyright law right now is on the side of evil and fascism. Continue reading “Grow the Public Domain”