First off, thank you so much to everyone who read the first recap last week and offered their support, comments, or interpretations and experiences with Carrie; it’s awesome to know that people are as excited about this as I am, and it’s been really informative to hear other people’s takes on the character of Carrie and the book in general. Without further ado, on with the next recap!
Earlier today, Adam Wingard, the director of Netflix’s cinematic Death Note adaptation, tweeted this:
So, it’s been a while since I’ve done a good ol’ show review on this humble blog of mine, and, with The Defenders series (the Netflix Original that brings together Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and Iron Fist, who starred in their own series in the lead-up to this) finally dropping yesterday, it seems like I’ve got the perfect bit of blog fodder to dissect. Without further ado let’s talk about the sporadic highs and numerous lows Marvel’s latest release has to offer.
So, it’s been just over a year since I finished university – I graduated in June 2016, which feels like an almost comically long time ago now. And, in the months that have intervened, I have found things…well, different.
It’s been a quiet week blogward and, with my family visiting and just so much work to get done, the rest of August looks like it’s going to be thin on the blog-ground as well. I’m hoping to have a Quit Smoking Diaries entry and a Fifty Shades recap up in the next week, but meantime, let’s return to another addition of TV Characters I Would Fight!
We are raped and we are raped and we are raped and we are raped.
I went to see Hounds of Love today, writer/director Ben Young’s debut feature revolving around the story of an suburban Australian couple (played by Emma Booth and Stephen Curry) carrying out a series of violent abductions, rapes and murders to assuage his twisted sexual appetites. We pick up as they abduct Vicky (Ashleigh Cummings) and carry out a series of physical and sexual assaults on the teenager, and a battle of wills begins between the younger woman and the older.
So, I recently finished up the latest season of Orange is the New Black (yeah, yeah, I know, slow on the uptake). I thought it was pretty good overall, but one subplot in particular seems to have caught the eye of a lot of reviewers and viewers alike is the one revolving around Tiffany Doggett and Charlie Coates.
I’m content right now. I’ve been listening to eighties pop, trying to French inhale with my new vaporiser, and dancing with the cat all night, and I feel good. Which feels like something close to a miracle, because a few months ago, I was so depressed that I was legitimately struggling to get out of bed in the morning, and when I’m in those states, it feels like the only thing facing you is this unassailable wall of shit, on the other side of which is another, more festering, more rancid pile of shit – you know, something like Game of Thrones’ treatment of women in season four. It feels fucking endless, and even though I could lie there, one hand in the eleventh bag of crisps of the day and the other to my mouth so I could chew off what remained of the skin around my fingers, and know that I had gotten out of worse in the past, I just for the life of me couldn’t see a way out of this one. It felt permanent – terminal, in the least fatal way possible.
