Hangovers

Thursday Excuses & Hangovers

I’m home with some sort of truly nasty crud, currently watching an episode of the A-Team on Sleuth, which bears the following description: "The team works from a pub to stop a loan shark from terrorizing small businesses; guest Wings Hauser." (The commercials they show on this network are terrible, sad and funny.) Next I’ll watch Rosie on The View. A few things:

Now I go back to collapsing. Emails I owe you will come soon. Promise.

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Wednesday Hangovers

I’m about a bajillion years behind on email, but am slowly catching up.

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Wednesday Hangovers

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Friday Hangovers

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Monday Hangovers

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Wednesday Hangovers

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Tuesday Hangovers

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Monday Hangovers

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Tuesday Hangovers

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Monday Hangovers

  • Jeff Ford has been blogging up a storm (always an uplifting development). His commentary on the crappiness of HBO and War of the Worlds: I left it on, figuring,  "How bad could it be even with Cruise — aliens, killing, running, explosions, more killing.  What the fuck."  It was about what I expected until it got to the part in the basement and Dakota Fanning (like this is a real name — winner of the golden corn dog award) asks Cruise to sing her a lullaby.  Oaf that her old man is, he doesn’t know any, so he sings "Little Deuce Coup" by the Beach Boys.  I couldn’t fucking believe it — Cruise, breathlessly squeaking out in verbal mouse farts the lyrics to the tune.  I was laying on the bed and had to sit up straight.  He had tears in his eyes.  Oh my Christ, oh the humanity.  I knew I was witnessing film history — a bona-fide Five Star Simpering Moment.
  • New SF ezine Heliotrope is live, featuring lots of interesting stuff; see here for details. A very welcome development.
  • Glen Hirshberg finally makes good with the next installment on writing implements: For me, writing really is somewhere else, an island I can’t live on, but that I need to visit every single day of my life, because it resists mapping, keeps revealing itself with every new ridge I climb or cove I duck into. The challenge is getting there.
  • Mr. McLaren resurrects an out-of-print friendly dictators trading card set. I choose Number 14, General Manuel Noriega, but mostly because of his pen pal.
  • Justine weighs in with a fabulous post on the Tiptree bio, about how it is a book she once intended to write herself. The bio also received a very odd review from Martin Morse Wooster in the WaPo over the weekend. Odd, in that this sentence, the last in the review, is pretty much the only part that deals with Julie Phillips’ writing: "Julie Phillips does an excellent job in telling Sheldon’s story." The rest of the review summarizes Tiptree’s life. Seems ODD.
  • Max rounds up the 2006 Lettre Ulysses Award longlist, which recognizes excellence in book-length reporting. As he points out, it’s an eclectic list with some fascinating-looking, off-the-beaten-review-path titles.
  • World Fantasy Award noms are out and it’s a great, great list all round. Congratulations to Ms. Link, Hal Duncan, Joe Hill, Paul Park, Caitlin Kiernan, and all the other nominees! (Via Gavin.)
  • Pinky, aka Carolyn Kellogg, tells the story of getting her purse stolen on NPR. Pinky has the best hair and great taste in everything. So go listen.
  • And now I’ll go back to obsessively watching things on YouTube like: Siskel and Ebert bitchfighting; David Bowie and Marianne Faithful singing "I Got You Babe" from 1973 (what is she wearing?); and (this is briliant) OK Go on treadmills.

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