crisp morning

[greygirlbeast]

The last few nights, the dreams have been a slow black storm. I awake more exhausted than when I went to sleep. If only I could find a cure for sleep...

Yesterday, the mail brought me copies of the new issue of Tähtivaeltaja, a Finnish sf/fantasy zine, which has an eight-page article on my books and comics. And this is really drad and all, only I can't make heads nor tails of Finnish, so, for all I know, it could be eight pages extolling the virtues of soy beans, with titles of my stories scattered randomly about to keep me fooled. I see bad online translations in my not-too-distant future. I will note that the article includes the abominable cover of the Meisha Merlin edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder. Otherwise, it looks great.

Also yesterday, I read Spooky the first half of Chapter Nine of Daughter of Hounds. It's nice. Solid. I like it very, very much, and it made me kind of ill, reading it, to think that I've allowed the novel to languish for a month or more. I'm going to try to get to work on the second half of the chapter today; I'm going to try very, very hard.

Also (also), I read David Kerr's "Epiphany for Aliens" (Again, Dangerous Visions). Spooky went to the L5P Halloween Parade, but I was feeling even more anti-social than usual and stayed home. She took lots of pictures, some of which I think she'll post in her LJ later today. The Klingons on Harleys are my favorite. Then, last night, two houses across the street held some sort of wild-ass party that went on until the police shut it down. I'm not going to call it a Halloween party, because no one was in costume so far as I could see, which was even more annoying than all the drunken rowdiness and the people parking on the frelling sidewalk in front of our house and so on and so forth. I refuse to accept that Halloween is merely another opportunity for yuppie scum to attempt to relive the glorious blur of their frat days with bad music and cheap yellow beer in big red plastic cups.

Here's a link (thanks, Kirin!) that made me laugh and roll my eyes and grind my teeth and curse the marginally literate idiots of the world — all at once. Check out Matthew Baldwin's "Lone Star Statements," being excerpts from one-star Amazon.com "reviews" of books from Time’s list of the 100 best novels from 1923 to the present. I was especially taken with the "review" of Catcher in the Rye, which simply states, "“So many other good books...don’t waste your time on this one. J.D. Salinger went into hiding because he was embarrassed.” Also, the "review" of Slaughterhouse-Five (too dumb to quote), which gives me new hope that the human race really is artificially selecting itself backwards towards Homo erectus. I shouldn't say that. I have it on good authority that Homo erectus had a perfectly fine sense of wonder and ability to suspend disbelief. My apologies to all the souls of all good Homo erectus, past and future, for having compared them to the squinting scuttlefish who shat out these "reviews." You deserve better. Of course, so does Kurt Vonnegut.

Okay. Go write, Caitlín. At least, go think about how you're a bum if you don't write. Time to make the doughnuts. But please have a look at our eBay auctions. Remember: every "Buy It Now" purchase gets a monster doodle. Thanks!

Comments

[stardustgirl.livejournal.com]

I refuse to accept that Halloween is merely another opportunity for yuppie scum to attempt to relive the glorious blur of their frat days with bad music and cheap yellow beer in big red plastic cups.

Ha! And don't forget the trophy wives they married who now use Halloween as an opportunity to sanctimoniously announce that they don't encourage the the "darker" aspects of it, and instead opt for day-glo pink pumpkins and politicially-correct trauma-free costuming. Bimbos.

If you really want to know what your Finnish interview says, you might drop Jouni (he was at Fiddler's Green) an email. He's on altfanthingie too.

[greygirlbeast.livejournal.com]

Ha! And don't forget the trophy wives they married who now use Halloween as an opportunity to sanctimoniously announce that they don't encourage the the "darker" aspects of it, and instead opt for day-glo pink pumpkins and politicially-correct trauma-free costuming. Bimbos.

Gods, don't get me started on the drunken yuppie bimbos. I swear, last night our street might have served as a set for Night of the Drunken Yuppie Bimbos. I can see the tagline now: Gentrification was only the beginning. Gagh. Okay. I gotta go find some mouthwash...

[robyn-ma.livejournal.com]

'And this is really drad and all, only I can't make heads nor tails of Finnish, so, for all I know, it could be eight pages extolling the virtues of soy beans, with titles of my stories scattered randomly about to keep me fooled.'

'Birminghamiin Alabamaan'

Almost sounds exotic.

'Näin Caitlin kytkeytyy irlantilaisten, ulkomailla uransa tehneiden ja kauhun saralla vaikuttaneiden kirjailijoiden joukkoon'

Loosely translated: 'Caitlin's characters aren't likable, and people can't have seven parents.'

'Hän ei myöskään miellä itseään kauhukirjailijaksi ja on kehittänyt termin ”gothnoir” kuvailemaan omaa tuotantoaan.'

That's my second favorite recognizable word turning up seemingly randomly in a bowl of Finnish. Second only to:

'painoksena Kiernanin hardcore-fanien'

Now that's just dirty.

I enjoy the magazine cover art, too: 'Here is Kiernanin is holding the big gun whilst exterminating the people of stupid.'

What's up with the chick in high heels near your name on the webpage, though? Maybe that's their default 'Today we are profiling the writer with the femaleness' illustration.

[greygirlbeast.livejournal.com]

Loosely translated: 'Caitlin's characters aren't likable, and people can't have seven parents.'

*snork*

I enjoy the magazine cover art, too: 'Here is Kiernanin is holding the big gun whilst exterminating the people of stupid.'

I am utterly enamoured with the cover art, even if they did get my skin colour wrong.

[setsuled.livejournal.com]

I am utterly enamoured with the cover art, even if they did get my skin colour wrong.

There's something very Nar'eth-ish about it. Even the shape of the hair.

[greygirlbeast.livejournal.com]

There's something very Nar'eth-ish about it. Even the shape of the hair.

Isn't there, though? It pleases me (and her).

[grandmofhelsing.livejournal.com]

Actually, the one-star review of "Gravity's Rainbow" is pretty damn funny. Not that I've gotten around to reading "Gravity's Rainbow" yet, but the book is very thick and props up all of the other books on the same shelf quite ably.

[mcdolemite.livejournal.com]

I was tempted to respond on Amazon.com to the idiotic things that wotsername said there about Poppy's book, but I see that Poppy already made my point for me (that the idea of you commanding her to write a foodie novel is absurd). I seem to dimly recall that person from Poppy's usenet group. She was the idiot who accused Rain Graves of being fat (that wasn't her main beef with Rain, just an indication of her residence in the bizarro world).

My latest LJ post goes into some stuff that's probably too tawdry for your taste, but the first half, about the Minnesotte Iceman, might be of interest to you. Do you know any more about the thing that what I posted there? I'm tempted to expand this into something publishable.

[setsuled.livejournal.com]

I shouldn't say that. I have it on good authority that Homo erectus had a perfectly fine sense of wonder and ability to suspend disbelief. My apologies to all the souls of all good Homo erectus, past and future, for having compared them to the squinting scuttlefish who shat out these "reviews."

Yeah. It's interesting how often these jerks, in their attempt to seem intellectually above great works, come off as missing the simplest of points. It's cartoonish. It's like someone saying "When hell freezes over" and someone else replying, "But--wait, hell's supposed to be really hot. No. No, I'm afraid I cannot accept the idea that hell may at some point freeze over."

It sort of reminds me of Leon's Voight-Kampff test at the beginning of Blade Runner. I used to think Leon was laying it on a little thick . . .