2016: Movies and Books Edition

Holy shit, Brownies. I haven’t posted since August. Because reasons. Maybe I’ll get into those in another post down the line, maybe I won’t. I’m never very forthcoming with my emotions (unless I’m drunk, which was more often than usual at the end of 2016), so we’ll see.

But, I always kick off the new year with the books and movies I partook in the previous year. The movies list is always huge; I average about a book a month, give or take. Lately, too, I’ve been sticking to smaller press books (for obvious reasons), but I did read a few masters of the genre, so to speak.

Books


  1. This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper – 4/5
  2. A Man of Honor: The Autobiography of Joseph Bonanno – 3/5
  3. Inheritance by Joe McKinney – 3/5
  4. Barlow After Dark by Brad Carter – 4/5
  5. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline – 3/5
  6. Hellblazer: Original Sins by Jamie Delano – 5/5
  7. Blackened by Tim McWhorter – 4/5
  8. On A Red Horse by Monica Corwin – 4/5
  9. Post Office by Charles Bukowski – 4/5
  10. Joyland by Stephen King – 4/5
  11. The Winding Down Hours by Tim McWhorter – 4/5
  12. High Moor by Graeme Reynolds – 3/5
  13. They Rise by Hunter Shea – 2/5
  14. Bad Wolf by Tim McGregor – 2/5
  15. Pale Wolf by Tim McGregor – 2/5
  16. Last Wolf by Tim McGregor – 2/5
  17. Alien: Out of the Shadows by Tim Lebbon – 2/5
  18. Alien: Sea of Sorrows by James A. Moore – 3/5
  19. Alien: River of Pain by Christopher Golden – 3/5
  20. Blood and Rain by Glen Rolfe – 2/5
  21. Autobiography of a Werewolf Hunter by Brian Easton – 2/5
  22. Abed (short story) by Elizabeth Massie – 4/5

Continue reading

42

It’s the number between 41 and 43.

It was Jackie Robinson’s number when he played ball.

It’s also the almighty answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

42 is also how old I turned as of 8:11a eastern time, which is 7:11a in the time zone I was born. That may only be interesting to me, but there you have it.

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to wax poetic today, talk about how far I’ve come in life, where I want to be when I’m 52 or shit like that, but really, I don’t feel like doing any of that.

It’s been a quiet day here: I worked the corporate gig (which, really, was a bitch today because I hate when I can’t solve the problems set before me), got some cards with some stuff, had some coffee, had some dinner with the family (including the grandkids), and even had some perfectly off-tune strangers sing me a short version of “Happy Birthday” and that was okay, too.

I guess what I’m saying is this: I turned 42, it’s neither a big deal or a little deal, it just is. Or, you could look at it this way,  Robert Kennedy was assassinated at the age of 42, it’s the age Elvis overdosed and died on a bathroom floor, and hey, Ted Bundy was executed at the age of 42. Sure, those guys  were all famous and shit, they’d accomplished a lot by 42, but look where they are compared to me.

All things considered, I think I’m doing pretty good, and that’s good enough.

[As a side note… if I croak before I turn 43, somebody remember this post and make me famous. I don’t care how.]