This week something made me google THEMA, a literary journal that published a short story of mine years ago, and I was happy to see they are still going strong.  But seeing this pulled me back through the years, back to a cold, gray Sunday and I was sitting in my bedroom on the second floor at an old upright manual typewriter Catholic Charities was about to toss out but I salvaged, pecking away this story that suddenly came to me:  The Fear of the Dark Club.  The room was cozy, bright against the wonderful gloom outside, Earl was a furry bundle snoozing on the bed, and now in retrospect looking at those first days of writing, it seemed I was always in a higher room with Earl nearby either on my lap, or on the bed, or both.  It was good to remember that warm time, and the story sat for two years, received one very complimentary rejection only because of where its setting was, and that was the only time I submitted it until a year and a half later.  And then I sent it to THEMA, after, on another cozy gray day seeing a call for stories in the book section of the Times Picayune. But this time Earlsey was gone, but Mom was there.  Still, it was good to remember, and it warmed my heart.

It’s turned gray and cozy today, and although it’s nearing six it’s still light; days are getting longer.  Didn’t watch, “Ghostbusters,” instead, lost myself in a really fine movie it’s taken me nearly twenty years to finally see, “Gods and Monsters.”  Okay, this was a good one.  Fine performances, but in my heart I truly can’t warm to Ian McKellen.  He was excellent, but, just something I can’t completely enjoy.   The wonderful Lynn Redgrave was amazing, and Brendan Frazier gave a very fine performance.  It was very engrossing and although Whale was the tragic figure, the one who received all my pathos quotient was Frazier as Boone.  Perhaps it was the point of it, but there was something monster-like about Whale, or McKellen, and his manipulation of Boone made me think of a spider watching a fly.

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