Meet the Press

I was pleased with the way Big Brother played out last night, though I wish they wouldn’t rush in the announcement of the winner in the last couple of seconds. On Survivor, they get the business out of the way and then take time to rehash, which puts things in a different context, I find. Jordan earned her win by getting the final HoH question and then picking the right traveling companion to the final two. People who study how the game is played might come up with a different approach next season. Old fences were mended, old lies laid bare, and Natalie is still a spoiled little brat. Ha! There, I said it.

I had my first response to the flurry of press releases I sent out on Sunday. This morning, I received a call from a reporter for a small town newspaper near where I grew up. I knew the reporter–he used to be the staff photographer for another small town paper I worked on many (many) moons ago, and then stepped into the editorial seat when the previous editor retired. That newspaper no longer exists, which is symbolic of the way the old communities are declining in that part of the country. However, I had a nice chat with him about my upcoming book release and sent off cover and author photos to accompany whatever he ends up writing. I’ll post a link to it if it ends up on line.

I read a line from someone recently. He said it isn’t true that the legs are the first thing to go with age. It’s the word for “legs” that is the first thing to go. Memory is an interesting thing in general, but I find as I get older it starts playing funny tricks. A few minutes ago, I completely blanked on a password that I enter every single day–most days more than once. I could remember the vague shape of the password on the keyboard, and even some of the characters, but I couldn’t get it right. Finally tracked it down, and when I saw it I nodded, but I’m not sure how long it would have taken me to come up with it on my own again. Yikes! I guess that last margarita I had a few days ago took out one of the more critical brain cells.

I tidied up my Cemetery Dance column for issue 64 and got it in to the editor, along with possible illustrations. Something to cross off my to-do list. Tomorrow’s Storytellers Unplugged essay is already written and posted, so my desk is gradually becoming clear so I can devote my attention to the novel again. Next week. I promise (myself).

I watched most of Dolan’s Cadillac last night, complete with Swedish subtitles. (That’s the only place the movie has been released yet.) My prediction is that the December 18th domestic release will be straight to DVD. It is not very good, I’m afraid. A big part of the problem rests on the shoulders of Wes Bentley, who makes Keanu Reeves look and sound animated. There are a lot of plotting issues, too, some of them arising from filler added to pad out the short story to 85 minutes of action. Christian Slater runs hot and cold. He has his moments, but mostly he’s overacting. Emmanuelle Vaugier delivers the only creditable performance and she isn’t in most of the film. There are some interesting nods to other King’s work, a couple of them misguided. Robinson’s deadpan voiceover that uses words from The Stand to describe Dolan as if he is Flagg. My score: D.