So apparently I can’t watch *good* movies on the treadmill.

The better the movie or show, the less I like it while exercising.  But I’m halfway through Death Race 2050 at this point and I’m apparently OK with that*.  Kind of weird, really – especially since I can read pretty much anything and still be fine. Then again, I’ve long since taught myself to read anywhere and at any time.

I suspect that I won’t want to watch merely bad films, though. I am going to need the Cheese.  All of the Movie Cheese.

Moe Lane

*My God, but it’s absolutely dumb. The good kind of dumb, which comes when you actually have an artistic vision and attempt to fulfill it. I’m never going to watch it again and I think Roger Corman’s more than a bit of an ass, but am I not entertained?  …Yes. Yes, I am.

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So, the Netflix/treadmill thing might actually work.

I walked for a half hour while watching the beginning of the pilot for Supergirl.  Actual exercise was had and it’s obviously better for me than obsessively doing the social media click cycle looking for responses, likes, shares, and — God forbid — people signing up for my Patreon. Oh, and processing rejection slips: I’m finally starting to get some of those.  I was starting to worry that I was sending this stuff out and they were hitting the equivalent of a brick wall, or something like that*.

So, productive day, in its way.

Moe Lane

*Sure, I’d rather cash checks. But one of the submissions got bounced because the magazine was going out of business, which isn’t the story’s fault, at least. Which is a morbid way of looking at it, to be sure, but then: ‘morbid’ describes the publishing industry right down to a T.

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