It’s the softest of touches breaking in on my thoughts, so gentle I barely register it. I open my eyes involuntarily, though there’s not much point. I reach out with my mind instead, latch onto that little voice.
Thea’s mind feels different. Younger, somehow. Tired. I’d never noticed any sense of incompleteness, but now, in the darkness, I’m aware just how much of her was linked in to her support suit. What I can feel seems fragile and my shoulders square up protectively, even though she’s nowhere nearby.
<<Thea. By the gods it’s good to hear from you. What happened?>>
She’s amused by the question. <<You tell me. I’m the one who just woke up in a heap on the floor in the dark.>>
I cast around for a reasonable explanation. But it’s been two hours since the shutdown and no matter where I look in the ship’s systems, I still have no clue what might have knocked out the omniarch. And I haven’t had contact from the other teams, so I’m guessing we’re all in the same position.
I haven’t done as much work on Space Witches as I’d hoped for on my week off, but I’ve done some, so that’s one small victory. By all the gods, it is a fucking slog, though. I’m currently writing psychic communication, cybersuits, and complete ship systems failure and I kinda have no idea how to make any of them work. A+++ being a writer is the best and certainly not difficult and disheartening ever at all.
READING: Anne Bishop’s Written In Red; bits of Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus because I’m using it in a zine because I’m an impossible nerd; new poetry collections from Tamryn Bennett and Carmine Frascarelli, launched as part of the Rabbit Poets Series this week (and it’s amazing to be here for Tamryn’s first book, even though we haven’t seen much of each other since being undergrads together at UOW.
WATCHING: Took myself to see Ghostbusters and Hunt For The Wilderpeople on Monday. GB is pretty much as good as you could hope for from a Feig-led remake; it’s probably as good as the original but is more or less a bunch of gags and CG set pieces strung together by some uninteresting dialogue and inconseqential emotional resonance, but you’re watching a bunch of ghosts being busted so come on what do you expect? It’s good but not great, but for an action comedy based on a 20-something-year-old concept, it totally does what it says on the tin. In contrast, Wilderpeople is hilarious and clever, wacky and original and yet oh-so relatable, the performances are magnificent, New Zealand looks as ruggedly beautiful as ever, and I still have a massive wide-on for Sam Neill even when he plays an aging weirdo but that’s a personal thing that I just have to deal with for myself. Also, although the GB cameos are cute and fun fanservice, Taiki Waititi’s cameo scene in Wilderpeople is maybe the funniest thing I’ve seen on film in the past year.
DOING: I’ve had a week of annual leave from work, so: Cheap Tickets Monday at the Kino, where I discovered they make you tea with actual real tea leaves rather than just a bag; blood donation, where I discovered that the Melbourne CBD donor centre has an automatic beverage dispenser that makes hot chocolate so I stayed there for longer than is strictly necessary or welcome; putting all of my pay straight into my savings account and water bill; mowing and gardening on the warmest, sunniest day we’ve had so far this month; eating more pasta than is strictly necessary or healthy.