Quarantine blogging: “there is no way in which this film is not fucked up”

The husband is watching Midsomar in the office, and it literally sounds bizarre.

I seem to have lost my taste for horror movies. This isn’t due to the pandemic; it’s been like this for a while, now. Not sure what happened there. Horror novels and dark fantasy stories are still my thing, though. I dunno, maybe I’m just tired of jump scares. I am very jumpy, and that’s exhausting. I really do prefer just being creeped out to bouncing like a goddamned pinball.

Kiddo is having to journal A LOT for distance learning, poor mite. I get it: history in the making, journals are good writing assignments. The teachers are trying to get them to think and engage, and one of his teachers is doing a photo journal, which I think is neat. But I also remember being 12 and not wanting to say anything personal to my teacher, good grief, dude, you gave me a C on my science project why would I want to tell you about “my most important person” or some shit?

Anyway, I guess the boy’s English teacher is cool. For today’s writing prompt he got into hating quarantine. He’s been pretty much housebound for three weeks, now, so I definitely get it. But he’s been great about it. No complaining, no whining. I don’t know if I’m impressed by his maturity or angry that he’s having to be mature.

Published by Laura E. Price

I read (you can check out my Goodreads if you want; it's linked on my blog). I write (I’ve been published in Cicada, On Spec, Strange Horizons, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Betwixt, Metaphorosis, Gallery of Curiosities, The Cassandra Project; the stuff that’s available online is linked on my blog). I plan for the inevitable zombie apocalypse and welcome the coming of the gorilla revolution. Or the anarchist rabbits. Whichever happens first. (I also blame my husband for basically everything.)

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