I’m sure no one had noticed, but I have been at home for five days straight now. I have a virus that turned my eyes a wet, shining blood red. I looked like a Vampire extra from Twilight, but, like, my blood red eyes were five times worse than theirs. A cross between a Vampire from Twilight and a Vampire from the movies of Anne Rice’s novels actually, because I would periodically shed tears of pain from those glowing red eyes.
I scared the good people of the Western Suburbs with my eyes of pain when I was out buying supplies two days into my vampire existence, so I ended up confined to my humble garret, to write more words in less days than I have ever done in my entire life. If I keep the 8,000 words in 4 days habit up I’d have a book on my personal views on gender equality in no time.
Maybe I should consider writing a Novel in a Month?
Anyhow, when I wasn’t writing about stuff that makes steam come out of my ears, I was watching, oh, TV shows and movies. And sometimes I’d cry, sometimes tears from the pain of the blood red eyes, sometimes tears from the excruciatingly awful films I was watching. I watched Immortals and Clash of the Titans and I would like to personally flay the makers of both movies. There was so little of merit in either film that I wonder if anyone who had ever made a film had been on set, let alone anyone who actually knew two sentences of Greek Mythology.
I just watched Midnight in Paris so as to end my weekend with a fabulous dream. The dream of travelling back to a time in the past that you are sure was the Golden Age of whatever timeless love lives in your heart.
I am lucky because both time periods in the movie, Paris in the Twenties and Belle Époque Paris, are favourites eras of mine as well for literature and art.
But if I were allowed only one era to time travel to, it would be the London of Shakespeare’s Globe for sure. And the Rome of Marcus Aurelius. And Istanbul of the Varangian Guard. The Eygpt of the Library at Alexandria. Baghdad and Tehran in any time BC. Athens of Socrates. Perth of the Wagyl. Any time when the ideas that would become legends were simply walking the earth, enjoying the sun.
There is a reason I have a soft spot for Anne Rice’s vampires – she wrote them to witness many eras, and shed tears of blood in each one.
The good news is my eyes are getting better. I can see some white returning. The bad news is I am still not an immortal, or a time traveller. Worst luck.
I scared the good people of the Western Suburbs with my eyes of pain when I was out buying supplies two days into my vampire existence, so I ended up confined to my humble garret, to write more words in less days than I have ever done in my entire life. If I keep the 8,000 words in 4 days habit up I’d have a book on my personal views on gender equality in no time.
Maybe I should consider writing a Novel in a Month?
Anyhow, when I wasn’t writing about stuff that makes steam come out of my ears, I was watching, oh, TV shows and movies. And sometimes I’d cry, sometimes tears from the pain of the blood red eyes, sometimes tears from the excruciatingly awful films I was watching. I watched Immortals and Clash of the Titans and I would like to personally flay the makers of both movies. There was so little of merit in either film that I wonder if anyone who had ever made a film had been on set, let alone anyone who actually knew two sentences of Greek Mythology.
Shhhhh Claire, your eyes are glowing right now, and if you cried again, they’d probably be tears of blood.
I just watched Midnight in Paris so as to end my weekend with a fabulous dream. The dream of travelling back to a time in the past that you are sure was the Golden Age of whatever timeless love lives in your heart.
I am lucky because both time periods in the movie, Paris in the Twenties and Belle Époque Paris, are favourites eras of mine as well for literature and art.
But if I were allowed only one era to time travel to, it would be the London of Shakespeare’s Globe for sure. And the Rome of Marcus Aurelius. And Istanbul of the Varangian Guard. The Eygpt of the Library at Alexandria. Baghdad and Tehran in any time BC. Athens of Socrates. Perth of the Wagyl. Any time when the ideas that would become legends were simply walking the earth, enjoying the sun.
Sigh.
There is a reason I have a soft spot for Anne Rice’s vampires – she wrote them to witness many eras, and shed tears of blood in each one.
The good news is my eyes are getting better. I can see some white returning. The bad news is I am still not an immortal, or a time traveller. Worst luck.
Comments
My friend did that novel in a month thing. She found it really motivating!