no Halloween rituals this year, though over the last couple days i *finally* got myself to sit through the entirety of Michael Mann's Manhunter (not bad, just haven't *quite* been in the mood for it until recently), finished a draft for a story which i really ought to force edits on but is stubbornly sticking to its current form and may end up getting sent for the usual round of rejections as it is, saw Christopher Nolan's The Prestige in a theater set to sub-zero temperatures ostensibly to lower brain activity and distract the audience from wondering whether they were being entertained or not and actually deciding whether or not they like the film itself (thankfully, though the theater conditions gave me a headache that would last me for the rest of the night, the film was still good enough for me and got me to dig up me old copy of Christopher Priest's The Prestige), and finally found a copy of Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves, which has led me to part with more cash than is good for me pocket, and is making me want to drop writing for a while so i can get back to 'seriously' reading, as i've still got Alan Moore's Voice of the Fire hanging about me head, with The Unconsoled and The End (and now House and The Prestige among countless others) waiting in the wings.
and yes, the pink stays. for now.
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