So those who are familiar with the sorts of other things I’ve done “not a review” entries on, not to mention the sorts of things I write, and who also are familiar with the show Preacher* on AMC, will likely not be surprised to learn that I’ve never missed a single episode of that unhinged horror/comedy/fantasy/bizarro-land production.
So this week I finally got around to reading Lost Souls, the classic 1992 vampire novel by Poppy Z. Brite:
So this week I’m reading The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, a horror/dark fantasy/historical/possibly semi-autobiographical novel by the violinist and pop/punk/cabaret/sort-of-unclassifiable singer Emilie Autumn.
So this week I’m reading Three Moments of an Explosion, a collection of short stories by one of my favorite writers, China Miéville:
This week I was reading The Vagrant, by Peter Newman, in which Ted Danson, Steve Guttenberg, Tom Selleck, and a baby wander through a post-apocalyptic wasteland that―oh, wait, sorry, that was Three Men and a Baby. No, in The Vagrant, there’s just one man, a baby, and a goat. And, eventually, a few hangers-on. They are definitely wandering through a post-apocalyptic wasteland, though.
This week, having finally finished off all those dystopian stories, I have moved on to something based on Lewis Carroll’s famous stories about Wonderland: Alice, by Christina Henry. No doubt this will be cheerful and wacky, eh?
Then again, maybe not.
This past week we watched “Spring”, a low-budget indie film that we got as a disc from Netflix.