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greygirlbeastLast night the dreams were a proper reality storm. I don't know if I've ever called them that before, but it's a fitting appellation. Reality storms. In my dreams, I'm unaware that I am dreaming. To my knowledge, there have been only two exceptions in all my life (both in 2004, I think). I might have said this here before, the not knowing that I'm dreaming thing. And I don't expect anyone to be interested in my nightmares and the dreams that may as well be nightmares, except for the fact that the "landscape" of my dreams has almost everything to do with the narrative structure and syntax of my fiction, and much to do with its content. The worst sort of reality storm, though, are those in which I encounter interdream memories. That is, memories from previous dreams. Still no awareness of my waking life, but I might come upon a place or person and clearly recall them from before, from some earlier dream. Sometimes, upon waking, I have conscious recollections of the earlier dreams and sometimes I don't (so the "memories" may be false, in some cases). Within the dream, these memories only serve to bolster "reality" and make waking that much more jarring. Anyway, if I'm a bit off center this morning, a bit more than usual, blame the storms in my sleeping mind. Or just blame me, and be done with it.
At least we finished proofing Low Red Moon yesterday. Today, it goes back to NYC. My corrections and changes were fairly extensive. We were at it most of the day — chapters Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, and the epilogue ("Stations of the Cross," "At the River's Edge," "Mother Hydra," and "The Land of Dreams," respectively; pp. 264-337 in the Roc tpb). Though we started fairly early, by one o'clock, I was working on the ms. until 9:10 p.m. (CaST). And though it's not an accusation I'm aware has ever been leveled at me, if anyone ever does accuse me of being in the writing thing "just for the money," if nothing else I can point to the time spent on these corrections and laugh in herhisits silly, frelling face. By a conservative estimate, Spooky and I have devoted 15-20 hrs. on Low Red Moon corrections since we began on Tuesday, December 5th. We were paid for none of this time, of course. This was entirely voluntary. It's not too difficult to calculate what that time comes to in "wages" lost, time I could have spent writing new stories for which I would be earning money, and the sum is significant. I don't know why I'm going on about this. Exhaustion, more than anything else, I suspect.
Anyway, the thing I said yesterday about brutality and shame and "unrealised realities," remember that? Yesterday, I started reading Chapter Twelve, and right there in the very first paragraph I find:
The same dream every time Deacon closes his eyes long enough to begin drifting down towards sleep, the same dream or close enough that it may as well be, all the horrors of Sunday night replayed again and again as if he's looking for some way to make it all come out differently. Some alternate, happy ending yet to be discovered, hidden deep within the minutiae, right there for the taking if only his stubborn subconscious self is allowed to pick through the broken pieces enough times. Guilt and regret and a loss that he's only just beginning to comprehend, the bourbon in his belly and the migraine that doesn't get any better no matter how much he drinks.
So, I take this as an indication that my "guilt" over the story was already manifest as I was writing it.
Marvelously warm again yesterday. But there was a wind and some clouds, so it felt cooler, though it really wasn't. I opened the office and living-room windows to air the place out a bit. I hate that shut-away winter smell. We're supposed to have low 70s by this weekend. We had a very long walk in the afternoon, southwest as far as the intersection of North Highland and Bemina Ave. NE. Back in the 1960s, 217 acres were cleared to make way for a section of highway. More than 500 homes dating back to the late 19th Century were destroyed in the process. Local outcry halted the highway construction, but the houses had already been demolished. Atlanta, like most Southern cities, has a long history of trying to forget itself. Anyway, that's why we have Freedom Park. It's the highway that never was. The thought of all those houses, the damage done to these neighborhoods, saddens me, but at least something good eventually came of it.
Just before bed last night, there was a rambling, poorly focused conversation about the hostility too often encountered among NeoPagans to critical thought and the natural sciences, and how this is exactly the opposite of the way things ought to be, perhaps even the opposite of the way things were in the American NeoPagan community as recently as the late 1970s. Also, the general perception of magick as technology (not science, but technology), as something to be used primarily to exploit a resource/s for personal material gain, rather than as a means of reaching a better understanding of the world. Please god/s/ess, help me get this job, win the lottery, cheat on my taxes, not get sick, find someone who loves me, etc. and etc. What can the universe do for me, rather than how can I exist in equilibrium with the universe. In this way, I think a lot of witches try to exploit Nature precisely the same way that "ordinary," non-magickal technologies exploit Nature. I say try because I continue to perceive most "magick" as only superstition and wishful thinking. But still, there's an ill intent at work here. And, at some point, I suggested that the word most abused and least understood among NeoPagans and Wiccans must surely be energy. But I am going on, aren't I? And probably pissing off people I don't actually mean to piss off. Sorry.
Spooky relisted the green-haired boy from Alabaster on eBay last night. Also, another of her dolls, which I've been quite smitten with. I am ever smitten with blind things. Anyway, yeah, the green-haired boy comes with one of the lettered copies of Alabaster (you pick the letter) and the "Highway 97" chapbook. Have a look. I'm probably going to list a few other things, as long as she's cranked up the eBay engine again.
Mostly, I'm still liking The Lost Room. There were some annoying moments last night, bits clearly thrown in an attempt to satisfy a perceived demographic with romance and touching sex. But I am of the opinion that one should not have sex in Room 10, anymore than one should have sex in 5 and 1/2 minute hallways or beneath the roof of Hill House. It'll be interesting to see how they wrap it all up tonight.
At least we finished proofing Low Red Moon yesterday. Today, it goes back to NYC. My corrections and changes were fairly extensive. We were at it most of the day — chapters Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, and the epilogue ("Stations of the Cross," "At the River's Edge," "Mother Hydra," and "The Land of Dreams," respectively; pp. 264-337 in the Roc tpb). Though we started fairly early, by one o'clock, I was working on the ms. until 9:10 p.m. (CaST). And though it's not an accusation I'm aware has ever been leveled at me, if anyone ever does accuse me of being in the writing thing "just for the money," if nothing else I can point to the time spent on these corrections and laugh in herhisits silly, frelling face. By a conservative estimate, Spooky and I have devoted 15-20 hrs. on Low Red Moon corrections since we began on Tuesday, December 5th. We were paid for none of this time, of course. This was entirely voluntary. It's not too difficult to calculate what that time comes to in "wages" lost, time I could have spent writing new stories for which I would be earning money, and the sum is significant. I don't know why I'm going on about this. Exhaustion, more than anything else, I suspect.
Anyway, the thing I said yesterday about brutality and shame and "unrealised realities," remember that? Yesterday, I started reading Chapter Twelve, and right there in the very first paragraph I find:
The same dream every time Deacon closes his eyes long enough to begin drifting down towards sleep, the same dream or close enough that it may as well be, all the horrors of Sunday night replayed again and again as if he's looking for some way to make it all come out differently. Some alternate, happy ending yet to be discovered, hidden deep within the minutiae, right there for the taking if only his stubborn subconscious self is allowed to pick through the broken pieces enough times. Guilt and regret and a loss that he's only just beginning to comprehend, the bourbon in his belly and the migraine that doesn't get any better no matter how much he drinks.
So, I take this as an indication that my "guilt" over the story was already manifest as I was writing it.
Marvelously warm again yesterday. But there was a wind and some clouds, so it felt cooler, though it really wasn't. I opened the office and living-room windows to air the place out a bit. I hate that shut-away winter smell. We're supposed to have low 70s by this weekend. We had a very long walk in the afternoon, southwest as far as the intersection of North Highland and Bemina Ave. NE. Back in the 1960s, 217 acres were cleared to make way for a section of highway. More than 500 homes dating back to the late 19th Century were destroyed in the process. Local outcry halted the highway construction, but the houses had already been demolished. Atlanta, like most Southern cities, has a long history of trying to forget itself. Anyway, that's why we have Freedom Park. It's the highway that never was. The thought of all those houses, the damage done to these neighborhoods, saddens me, but at least something good eventually came of it.
Just before bed last night, there was a rambling, poorly focused conversation about the hostility too often encountered among NeoPagans to critical thought and the natural sciences, and how this is exactly the opposite of the way things ought to be, perhaps even the opposite of the way things were in the American NeoPagan community as recently as the late 1970s. Also, the general perception of magick as technology (not science, but technology), as something to be used primarily to exploit a resource/s for personal material gain, rather than as a means of reaching a better understanding of the world. Please god/s/ess, help me get this job, win the lottery, cheat on my taxes, not get sick, find someone who loves me, etc. and etc. What can the universe do for me, rather than how can I exist in equilibrium with the universe. In this way, I think a lot of witches try to exploit Nature precisely the same way that "ordinary," non-magickal technologies exploit Nature. I say try because I continue to perceive most "magick" as only superstition and wishful thinking. But still, there's an ill intent at work here. And, at some point, I suggested that the word most abused and least understood among NeoPagans and Wiccans must surely be energy. But I am going on, aren't I? And probably pissing off people I don't actually mean to piss off. Sorry.
Spooky relisted the green-haired boy from Alabaster on eBay last night. Also, another of her dolls, which I've been quite smitten with. I am ever smitten with blind things. Anyway, yeah, the green-haired boy comes with one of the lettered copies of Alabaster (you pick the letter) and the "Highway 97" chapbook. Have a look. I'm probably going to list a few other things, as long as she's cranked up the eBay engine again.
Mostly, I'm still liking The Lost Room. There were some annoying moments last night, bits clearly thrown in an attempt to satisfy a perceived demographic with romance and touching sex. But I am of the opinion that one should not have sex in Room 10, anymore than one should have sex in 5 and 1/2 minute hallways or beneath the roof of Hill House. It'll be interesting to see how they wrap it all up tonight.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 05:48 pm (UTC)So true! I think that this is caused by the same thing a lot of other problems within the NeoPagan (and particularly, the Wiccan) communities: non-conversion. Most NeoPagans never truly convert to their NeoPagan religions, instead holding on to their previously Western Judeo-Christian beliefs, often without realizing that that is what they're doing.
NeoPaganism becomes a new surface mask for the previous belief system. So instead of truly appreciating and serving Nature, they hold on to the belief that Nature is meant to serve them, which stems from Biblical teachings. Really makes you wonder why so many NeoPagans describe themselves as following "Nature religions."
~Morgan
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 08:04 pm (UTC)That's a good way of expressing it.
Yes, I think this is, in large part, a failure to actually, fully, change the fundamental way that one sees herhisitself in relation to the universe. Humanity is the center of nothing, except humanity. No special place. Merely another component, so to speak. I see the development of Western thought as leading increasing away from that worldview where humans lie at the center of things. Copernicus, Galileo, Darwin, Einstein, etc. But NeoPagans seem no better at genuinely grasping the full implications of it than do Xtians, etc.
blame the cold medicine
Date: 2006-12-13 06:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 07:19 pm (UTC)You realize, of course, that merely mentioning this will prompt us to demand details.
The worst sort of reality storm, though, are those in which I encounter interdream memories. That is, memories from previous dreams.
I believe you've said before that you don't have lucid dreaming, but do these memories allow you to navigate the terrain of your dream any more easily? While I have had memories of previous dreams (as they are sometimes repetitive) which can allow me to adapt the dream narrative slightly (avoid that pitfall, punch the monster, etc.), this isn't the same as having "interdream memories" - memories which are unique only to the dreamscape itself and only able to be accessed during those reality storms, and are not memorable simply because the dream experience is being duplicated.
...magick as technology....What can the universe do for me, rather than how can I exist in equilibrium with the universe. In this way, I think a lot of witches try to exploit Nature precisely the same way that "ordinary," non-magickal technologies exploit Nature.
A cunning comparison, Nar'. I'm definitely going to make note of it.
...I am of the opinion that one should not have sex in Room 10, anymore than one should have sex in 5 and 1/2 minute hallways or beneath the roof of Hill House.
What about sex adjacent to a hole situated in a disused room (http://www.amazon.com/Cipher-Kathe-Koja/dp/0440207827/sr=8-3/qid=1166036175/ref=pd_bbs_sr_3/102-0129176-6717761?ie=UTF8&s=books)?
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 07:57 pm (UTC)What about sex adjacent to a hole situated in a disused room?
No, not there either. Though I believe Kathe did have that occur (I've not read the novel in many years now).
You realize, of course, that merely mentioning this will prompt us todemand details.
Not this one. Some of those worlds have to go to the grave with me.
I believe you've said before that you don't have lucid dreaming, but do these memories allow you to navigate the terrain of your dream any more easily?
I'm not sure I know how to answer that.
A cunning comparison, Nar'. I'm definitely going to make note of it.
I feel like I still haven't managed to say what I'm try to say.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 11:28 pm (UTC)The sentiment as expressed makes sense to me: technology of whatever kind as a means to make use of one's environment rather than exist most efficiently—which is not the same as most comfortably, or whatever word implies that the universe will gratify one's own desires—within it. The ritual stops being about appreciation and becomes about benefit, and that's the wrong direction.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 04:08 am (UTC)Yes! If only I possessed this superpower which allows you to be concise.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 04:27 am (UTC)I'm just condensing! The ideas were clear.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 08:40 pm (UTC)Also, too many points of agreement, to spend the requisite time talking of it, but also disagreement. Hm.
Hope you have a productive day.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 09:46 pm (UTC)This is true. Though, these days, I find I have a great deal of contempt for chaos magick and Discordianism (etc.), they are at least very up about there fixation with magick as tech, as a means of manipulating the universe for their benefit, etc. The same is largely true for "ceremonial magick" (Golden Dawn, OTO, freemasonry, etc.).
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 10:57 pm (UTC)I always read those lines as an echo of Threshold, that this time around there is no rewind:
"I'm not going to let you die this time," the child says, and Chance opens her eyes, coughs and stares amazed into its pretty face. Not its face, her face, her hazel-brown eyes and mouse-brown hair, the face of her and Deacon's child already half-grown. "I figured it all out. You only have to hang on a little bit longer. Daddy's almost here . . . It doesn't have to end the same way," the child says. "I know that it doesn't have to end the same way every time . . . Tonight, the dream will be different . . . and when I wake up, you'll be alive. When I wake up, everything will always have been different."
. . .
"I wish it didn't have to end this way," the child says. "I wish the story could have a better ending. I wish it could end, 'And they all left the tunnel, went home and never met another monster and lived happily ever after.'"
"That would be a fine story," Chance tells her. "That would be a very fine story."
In context of Daughter of Hounds, they are particularly interesting to re-read.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 11:03 pm (UTC)That works, too.
In context of Daughter of Hounds, they are particularly interesting to re-read.
Having written Daughter of Hounds, reading the novel this time, everything carried so much more weight.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 11:17 pm (UTC)I imagine it will have that sense for readers who found Daughter of Hounds first—knowing the results, but seeing the places where all the possibilities could still have been different. And still might be, some of them.
Do you have any idea which novels people tend to start with? I read Threshold before I read Silk, but after that Low Red Moon and Murder of Angels in their chronological order; I can't quite imagine what either of the latter would have looked like to me if I hadn't read the novels that preceded them, but clearly this happens.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 04:09 am (UTC)Do you have any idea which novels people tend to start with?
I honestly do not.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 02:09 am (UTC)Certainly not me, I agree completely.
Energy is more than a quick thrill from dancing widdershins and seeing that cute girl nekkid.
I could go on for hours...
Dreams & Energy
Date: 2006-12-14 03:40 am (UTC)The stuff about living dream-lives with memories of the dream-world itself, real or imagined, has given me much to think about. There was for example a dream continuity I used to dream about which was very oppressive, the lighting was always grayish, and there was a continuing feeling of impending doom, something very Lovecraftian, although nothing actually happened. Then, all of a sudden, the dreams stopped and I've never dreamed it again for about 15 years... somehow, that feels even stranger, although I could not say precisely why.
There are other dreams which are not particularly interesting in themselves, but I am amazed at the detail in which the geography of my city is changed and expanded. I know perfectly, even in waking, how to get to certain junctions, streets, a fascinating bookstore where I always find treasures which it is an agony to lose upon waking, a street market, and a large mall... all of which are expanded upon certain sections of my city in a very coherent way. I probably could draw a map of this "alternate Guadalajara"...
*chuckle*
Date: 2006-12-14 05:23 am (UTC)As far as dream worlds: My own sense of "reality" is a arguably a bit psychotic to the typical Western ontology. I really don't like the division of the material and the spiritual realms. I think it's a false dichotomy imposed by centuries of Judeo-Christian philosophy. I live in a world rich with vibrant spiritual life that I can interact with at will. The only division is one of "focusing one's eyes" properly.
At the same time, I also think my dreams are just another layer of reality. It's a space that's safer than the waking world for some types of interactions. Dreams have power.
Re: *chuckle*
Date: 2006-12-14 12:11 pm (UTC)And -damn, I guess it's only fitting that I've just had the strongest deja vu in months while reading your words! :-P
Re: *chuckle*
Date: 2006-12-14 04:25 pm (UTC)mystery
Date: 2006-12-14 04:12 am (UTC)as someone who writes, without knowing whether i want to be a working writer or whether i do this just to amuse myself, i find your take on mystery fascinating. it's probably what drew me to your writing, as i also hold the belief that the things one can imagine are always scarier than the actual boogeyman. for instance, if you'd described exactly what was in the waterworks in Threshold, it'd probably still scare the bejesus out of me, but likely not as much as the monsters i imagine. same with House of Leaves, as you mentioned.
in my own stories, i sometimes hit a brick wall that is my own suspension of disbelief. though i've conjuerd these things, i may not fully understand how or why they happen. then i get all wrapped up in worrying whether or not anyone else is going to "buy" them. then, once i've written it, i worry that i've either (a) explained too much and thus made it trite or cheesy or just plain silly or (b) explained so little that a potential reader would toss the manuscript across the room in frustration. so, with all of that, my question to you is this: do you know the "answers" to your own mysteries? do you ever feel the need to justify a suspension of disbelief, even to yourself? or are you content to leave your mysteries as mysteries, even to your own mind? an example being the hemispherical world in Murder of Angels. do you, as its creator, know all of its nuances, or are you content with the little mysteries it gives you?
i apologize for the long comment. twice over if what i'm trying to say still didn't come out right.
Re: mystery
Date: 2006-12-14 04:25 am (UTC)I may quote this comment in tomorrow morning's LJ entry, with a fuller reply. But for now...
do you know the "answers" to your own mysteries? do you ever feel the need to justify a suspension of disbelief, even to yourself? or are you content to leave your mysteries as mysteries, even to your own mind? an example being the hemispherical world in Murder of Angels. do you, as its creator, know all of its nuances, or are you content with the little mysteries it gives you?
No. I don't know the answers to my own mysteries. I cannot, off the top of my head, think of a single one that I know the answer to. I don't know what the things in the water works tunnel are. I don't know how Spyder and Scarborough and Niki wound up in that place together. I don't know what was in the bottle the green-haired boy brought Dancy, or where he came from. When these questions are left unanswered, I'm not being dishonest with the reader. I simply never found the answers myself. Usually, that's because I preferred to leave the questions unanswered in my own mind. Maybe someday I'll draw a map of the hemispherical world, but I have not yet. Mostly, it's a big blank for me. The mysteries mean more to me than the possible solutions. I'll take a really good guestion, filled with endless possibility, over a sterile concrete answer any day of the week.