Dearest darkness, and cover me from the sun.

[greygirlbeast]

I'd not heard that Oakland Cemetery was damaged in the tornado of March 14th, the one that hit downtown Atlanta and the Fulton Cotton Mill lofts. The cemetery is directly west of the lofts, and, I know now that part of my mind has been trying hard not to consider the possibility that Oakland was hit. Of course, we haven't driven over there, because I didn't want to know how bad it was. Look at me, sticking my head in the sand. But last night I got email from Mike, one of my readers on MySpace, that Oakland was, indeed, hit and badly hit. This is the cemetery where I was interviewed last April for Frank Woodward's forthcoming Lovecraft documentary. Margaret Mitchell is buried there, along with various governors and Civil War veterans. I've read that eighty-six trees were uprooted as the storm passed through Oakland, including crape myrtles, magnolias, and oaks. Some of the trees were at least a century and a half old. And there are not many places in Atlanta that have ever made me feel any sense of peace, that even feel like places, but Oakland is one of them. Back when Atlanta still had a goth scene, lovely Victorian picnics were held at Oakland. It was one of the few reminders of history in a city that has worked so fervently to forget its history. So, I was horrified at the news. And yet, I thought, at least it wasn't the zoo that was hit, or the aquarium, or the botanical gardens. But still. Below is a photograph Spooky took last spring. I do not know if any of those trees are still standing. The cemetery is now closed, indefinitely, to visitors, and an evaluation is underway to determine what will be required for the restoration.





As for yesterday, I wound up going outside after all, chilly weather or no chilly weather. I needed to get over to Emory University to find a couple of books I want to read again before writing my afterword for A is for Alien, including John J. Pierce's Odd Genre: A Study in Imagination and Evolution (1994) and Slusser and Rabkin's Aliens: The Anthropology of Science Fiction (1987). At least there were no civil-defence sirens this time. We did hear a chickadee, as we were leaving, but never spotted it. Also, yesterday, I sent a copy of the new edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder to Jeff VanderMeer. Well, actually, Spooky's the one who made the trip to the p.o., not me. She also sent the "typescript" of A is for Alien to Sonya (sovay) and the signed contracts for the same book to subpress. A new issue of the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology arrived. Really not much else to say for yesterday.

A small seizure last night. Not one of the big tooth-cracking ones. I just went somewhere else for thirty seconds or a minute or so. Still, it scares the hell out of me and Spooky both. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue mentioning the fits here. The seizure days.

I have a phone call from my agent at four p.m., and I'm hoping to do some writing first, so I should wrap this up. I have something in mind, a very short piece to accompany "Pickman's Other Model" in Sirenia Digest #28. So, time to gather up my platypus and get to it.

Postscript (3:26 p.m.) — A contest. I'm taking requests for the short second piece, a vignette (approx. 2,000 words), for this month's issue of Sirenia Digest. Something overtly erotic, something sharp, something nasty*. Please leave your suggestions here or email to greygirlbeast(at)gmail(dot)com, suggestions, requests, whatever, and should I choose your request/suggestion, I will send you your choice of either a signed and personalized copy of the Beowulf novelization or the new mmp of Murder of Angels. C'mon, people. Challenge me.

* "nasty" sensu "malicious; spiteful" and/or "painful or dangerous; grave" and/or "morally offensive; indecent."

Comments

[scarletboi.livejournal.com]

On a completely different note...

LOLTrilobites.

[sisyphusiren.livejournal.com]

Hah! I just put the LOL Trilobites on my LJ today.

[troublebox.livejournal.com]

I'm taking requests for the short second piece …

How about some biblical porn? Have you ever done Eve and the snake as a subject?

[sisyphusiren.livejournal.com]

Something overtly erotic, something sharp, something nasty*.

* "nasty" sensu "malicious; spiteful" and/or "painful or dangerous; grave" and/or "morally offensive; indecent."

My inner history geek/pervert gave me "something with corsets, broadswords and willing rape victims."

And I rarely question my innter history geek/pervert.

[robyn-ma.livejournal.com]

'Something overtly erotic, something sharp, something nasty.'

Two words: Phallus dentata.

Oh, and if you trust me even a little bit, go see Doomsday. It rocks like a large rocking thing. Go in knowing that it's going to be a lovingly cheesy John Carpenter/George Miller pastiche and you're good.

contest / suggestions

[pushingarock.livejournal.com]

Flaying.
Definitely something with flaying.

[reverendcrofoot.livejournal.com]

(huh) Nasty you say. Blah zeh I am sure, but Incest is always a taboo and can be quiet nasty, maybe a man who had a child just to be a lover. Or always wanted a girl instead of a boy, so sneaks him hormones.

I had an Idea of doing an oral history of orphanage that caters to rich people desires by raising children to be predisposed to certain fetishes. Of course being raised that way the characters would have no idea that are being payed for their services they would think they are falling in love or something.

I also hope you continue mentioning Seizure days since in my mind they are important and a part of your life.

[stsisyphus.livejournal.com]

There are other things, in the night, which cause even the most jaded creatures to pause. Perhaps not out of fear, but prudence, and an acknowledgement that not all things disturbed must necessarily be dis-covered.

This thing, it has the shape of a woman, but it is a temporary state. She has hungers, both masticatory and carnal. Sometimes they overlap. Sometimes by design, sometimes by desperation, sometimes simply because there is some sport in it. She is changing, of course, to something less pure, less harmonious, more simply base and mortal. There are things s/he has done to halt this, for a time. The damned zipper won't stay fucking closed, and is skipping teeth.

Omelets get made. The husks need to be devoured disposed of.

sirenia ideation

[cithra.livejournal.com]

Pain exists to remind us we are alive, and yet we can not truly remember it once it is past. Otherwise we would never touch, and we must touch. Otherwise we would shun the world, that we must not shun. Otherwise there would be no beginnings, only the end. Pain is the touchstone we cannot hold, the boundary of our awareness, the circumscription of our world.