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Thinking a bit more about my last post on the mini-series, Chernobyl, and on body horror and systemic horror, and their relation to one another: body horror is somewhat about losing control of your physicality, your body (in this case, radiation destroying your body), while systemic horror is somewhat about losing control of how you can act, and behave, and be (in this case, managers and state officials dictating dangerous behaviour — along with consequences for not carrying out said behaviour).

Chernobyl combines them: for instance, managers forcing people into situations that lead to radiation poisoning and the harm of their bodies.

This is the sweetest thing, and close to how I feel about stories.

pic.twitter.com/xTnC7n2XzK

— Erin, but spookier! 24/7 gay brain (@TheRoadVirus_) August 30, 2019

Ah, Anthony Bourdain, I miss you.

Same address, but different look. It works fine with no JavaScript, and is mostly mobile friendly.

My old phone was something I carried with me everywhere, with no cover or screen protector. It’s screen has been cracked for over a year. I’ve dinged it multiple times, chipped out a large chunk from its back cover, exposing a bit of what might be its battery.

It kept on working, though – a scarred, hard waring phone – until last weekend, when the screen began to die.

Now I’m writing this post on a new phone, same make and model as the old workhorse. It’s nice to have a screen that’s not cracked, but it’s maudlin to be moving on from something that’s worked so well for me, that wore down alongside me.

The new story, Surprise, is up.

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance series, starts next week. There’s a new little short advertising it from Netflix:

I’m excited! While it’s not one of the childhood stories that have lived with me, it was one of those things that I struggled with and enjoyed as a kid, and enjoyed more as an adult, and I’ve occasionally revisited (and sat S through a viewing of).

Also, if S and I ever get a dog:

I’m on a bit of a strange social media break. A few months ago I deleted my Instagram account — its enforced open DMs, endless chasers, and every fourth / fifth post being an ad, had changed Instagram from being something positive in my life to a sad, disheartening place to spend time.

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