Death is Eternal #390
Monday. March 4, 2024. 2,076 words.
For a brief moment, I forgot that this Death is Eternal was supposed to be free for all. Why is that? Because this is the first newsletter of the month, and the first Death is Eternal of the month is free for all. Why is that? To convince you to upgrade from the free tier to the paid subscription? Has that worked in the past? No. Should I rethink my strategy? Probably... Maybe...
Contents
Any Given Sunday Night
Writing: Word count
Bye! Oh, Wait!
Life (from February 26 to March 10, 2024)
Death is Eternal review #268: No Hard Feelings
The end
1. Any Given Sunday Night
In the hushed dimness of their living room, she reclined against his warmth, her gaze flitting between the flickering glow of the television and the man beside her. The remote control passed through her fingers with a restless energy, a silent commentary on her indecision.
“Didn’t you mention something about writing?” Her voice, soft yet laden with expectation, pierced the tranquil ambiance.
“Hmm?” His response was a mere murmur, his attention torn from the screen to her face, a mask of confusion.
Her eyes, pools of quiet inquiry, met his with a subtle challenge. “You know, that task you were so determined to finish? The module?”
Recognition sparked in his eyes, but it was a flicker, quickly swallowed by the shadows of his own distraction. “Oh, right,” he mumbled, a sheepish admission of his forgetfulness.
A silence hung between them, pregnant with unspoken questions, until she broke it with a gentle prod. “Shouldn’t you be working on that?”
His response was a hesitant shuffle of thoughts, gears grinding against the inertia of his complacency. “I suppose,” he conceded, but his body remained anchored to the couch, tethered by the siren call of procrastination. “But I don’t want to.”
“I could tell.”
“Do you think I should?”
Her patience waned, a subtle shift in her posture betraying her growing frustration. “What do you want me to say?” Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of her exasperation.
His gaze faltered, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of his own guilt. “Nothing,” he murmured, a defeated surrender to her unspoken reproach.
But she refused to let him retreat into the safety of silence. “No, we’re not doing that,” she declared, her voice rising with a quiet insistence. “What do you want me to say?”
Caught in the crossfire of her determination, he felt the weight of her gaze pressing down upon him, a tangible force that demanded his honesty. “I...” His voice trailed off, lost in the labyrinth of his own uncertainty.
Her eyes bore into him, unwavering in their intensity. “You always say that,” she chided softly, a gentle reminder of their shared history. “But what do you truly want?”
The answer eluded him, a slippery phantom dancing just beyond his grasp. “I don’t know,” he confessed, a whispered admission of his own weakness.
But she refused to accept his surrender. “Then we’ll figure it out together,” she declared, her voice a beacon of resolve in the darkness of his indecision.
“If I do it today, I’d be free the rest of the week. But I’m tired and can do it in half an hour. Also, the due date is Wednesday. So, no reason to rush things,” he murmured, the words tinged with weariness yet laced with a hint of determination.
Her brow furrowed in mild surprise, a subtle arch of skepticism shaping her features. “The due date is Wednesday? And you can do it in half an hour?” She spoke with a tone that combined incredulity and cautious optimism.
A nod was his only response, a silent affirmation amidst the uncertainty that enveloped them.
“So sit back here and help me find something to watch.” And so they sat, two souls adrift in the sea of their own uncertainty, navigating the currents of doubt and desire until they found what to watch.
“I just hope I don’t forget to write,” he confessed, a note of concern tainting the air with a touch of apprehension.
“Me too,” she reassured, her words a silent vow etched into the recesses of her mind: Remember him to write.
The end
2. Writing: Word count
As I sit down to write today, I find myself compelled to delve into a topic that has been festering in my mind since last week—word count. Prepare yourselves, dear readers, for what may be a short entry but one filled to the brim with frustration.
Let me preface this by stating that I am a stickler for rules. Rules are not to be trifled with in my world—ask my wife, who has undoubtedly felt the brunt of my adherence to regulations. Among the myriad of rules I hold dear (probably because of my background in journalism), one stands out above the rest—the rule of word count. If you’ve ever had the misfortune of having me edit your work, you’ll know that I approach word count with a fervour bordering on zealotry. I’ve even found myself in hot water at my previous job due to my unwavering commitment to this particular rule, but that’s a tale for another time. Suffice it to say, I live and breathe for the sanctity of word count limits.
However, recent events have left me questioning whether my steadfast dedication to this principle is perhaps misguided. Just last week, as I toiled away on Harvey Turpin, Private Investigator, in “The Bourbon Detective,” I found myself facing the Herculean task of paring down the story to a mere 2,000 words. This was no small feat, considering that the initial draft clocked in at nearly 3,000 words. Trimming away 1,000 words without sacrificing the essence of the story was—and always is—a challenge of epic proportions. But after what felt like an eternity—far longer than it took to pen the initial draft—I finally reached a point where I felt satisfied with the result. And for the record, I achieved this feat using Pages—a detail I feel compelled to emphasize.
Imagine my dismay when upon transferring the draft to Google Docs—the platform where my writing cohort and I consolidate our drafts—I discovered that the short story now amounted to a mere 1,990 words. A difference of ten words may not seem significant at first glance, but in the world of writing, it can mean the difference between success and failure. Ten words have the power to alter the entire complexion of a piece, and so I found myself grappling with a flurry of questions. How could two seemingly identical software platforms produce divergent word counts? Are all words created equal, or is there some insidious discrepancy at play? And most importantly, which count was the correct one?
The notion that word counts could vary depending on the software used to tabulate them struck me as utterly ludicrous and undeniably infuriating. Words are words, are they not? Regardless of the platform or application, there should be a universal standard for counting them. The fact that I now find myself fretting over whether my submissions to literary magazines or contests will fall afoul of the word count rule due to the vagaries of technology is nothing short of absurd. Should I really be burdened with such concerns simply because software cannot agree on a standardized method of counting words? It defies all logic and reason.
In conclusion, the discrepancy in word counts between software platforms is a maddening conundrum that no one should have to contend with. The whims of technology should not compromise the integrity of our work. It’s high time to establish a universal standard for word count calculation, sparing people the unnecessary stress and anxiety accompanying this arbitrary discrepancy. Because, let’s be honest, does the discrepancy make any sense at all?
3. Bye! Oh, Wait!
Here’s where we say our farewell to the free subscribers... Oh, wait! Not this week. This week, everyone can read until the end. If you’re a paying subscriber, you know what to expect. If you aren’t, you should seriously consider becoming one!
4. Life (from February 26 to March 10, 2024)
It’s funny, mind-boggling, and somewhat sad that for the last few weeks, this section has been gigantic and full of interesting content that surely would make you, dear free subscriber, think twice about upgrading your subscription because you couldn’t possibly live without reading weekly about my life adventures, but today, when this section is open for you, I don’t have a lot to say, which is the worst selling point ever.
Life is funny like that, I guess.
At least, the future does reserve some things.
First, on Wednesday, Jessica and I will have a date night watching “Dune" Part Two.” But before that, we must rush to watch “Part One” because it has been so long since we first watched it that we forget it entirely. Although, if I’m being honest, there are big chances we won’t watch and will try to fill in the blanks with whatever we remember while in the theatre. Ideal? No. But life is going to life, so...
Second, on Saturday, after I don’t know how long, Kia will finally fix the problem that could make my car burst into flames. I don’t remember when I first got the recall notification, but I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been driving in fear. However, with my luck, the flames will begin on Friday, the day before the recall appointment. Although, maybe that’s a good thing because then they would have to give me a new car... Wait, is that how things work? Anyway... I’m glad Kia will finally address the problem, and either they’ll fix it before it is too late, or I’ll get something nice—but only after a considerable headache, that’s for sure. By the way, I’ve been driving for more than ten years now, and I never faced a recall. Do you know what that means? I’ll never buy a Kia again.
It wasn’t the most exciting week ever, but one with things happening, which, if you know me at all, it’s almost a miracle!
Oh, I almost forgot! Today, I’ll workshop Harvey Turpin, Private Investigator, in “The Bourbon Detective,” I look forward to the feedback. Last week, I talked about my struggles regarding this Harvey Turpin chapter, and so I want to know what my peers have to say about it. Having feedback when you’re confident is good for the ego, but having peers evaluate your work when you’re unsure about it is when the opinions really matter.
In the end, that was a nice section. It was so nice that maybe I convinced you to read weekly...
5. Death is Eternal review #268
No Hard Feelings
No Hard Feelings offers a refreshing departure from the slew of blockbuster juggernauts dominating cinema screens, reminding audiences of Hollywood’s versatility beyond billion-dollar franchises like Marvel or Barbie. While not groundbreaking, the film holds its own as an enjoyable comedic venture.
The strength of No Hard Feelings lies in its ability to evoke genuine laughs through well-executed comedic moments and a commendable performance from its cast. Despite some pacing issues, particularly in the rapid transformation of the male lead, the film manages to deliver an engaging and satisfying conclusion that avoids clichés and instead offers intriguing character development.
Moreover, the film’s exploration of relationships and personal growth adds depth to its comedic core, resonating with viewers on a more emotional level. This thematic richness, coupled with the film’s humour, elevates No Hard Feelings beyond mere escapism, providing a satisfying blend of entertainment and substance.
Overall, while No Hard Feelings may not reach the heights of cinematic excellence, it succeeds in providing a pleasant viewing experience for those seeking light-hearted entertainment without the burden of lofty expectations.
6. The end
It’s time to end this Death is Eternal because it took me a bit longer than I anticipated, so I’m a bit later to prep this week’s lunch. And as I said over Bluesky, “Preparing meals in advance is an arduous task, especially on the cooking day when the process is pretty time-consuming and exhausting...” I hope you enjoyed this free installment, and hopefully, I did enough to convince you to upgrade your subscription. See you next week, bye!