Caitlín R. Kiernan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greygirlbeast) wrote2011-11-13 02:05 pm
greygirlbeast) wrote2011-11-13 02:05 pm
Entry tags:
"Cover me in rag and bone sympathy..."
It's dratted Sunday, kittens. COMMENT! I was up until after four ayem, and didn't wake up until fucking noon, so this is going to be very goddamn brief. Weekends are for pussies:
1) Yesterday I managed to write only a little better than a thousand words on "Ex Libris," because I spent over an hour trying to figure out exactly when a particular Providence church burned (I know the exact date on which it was demolished, after the fire).
2) I woke grateful that this was Monday, only to discover that it isn't.
3) For Sirenia Digest #72, I want to do another "Question @ Hand" feature, as we haven't done one in quite a while, and I actually have fun with them. Yeah, fun. Imagine that. Anyway, I'm taking requests. That is, it would be great if people had suggestions, as I'm drawing a blank. So, you know, something along the lines of "What if you had me alone for twenty-four hours with nothing but a spork and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and I was hogtied, and no one would ever know what you did, what would you do to me?" Only more imaginative. That sort of thing, in keeping with the flavor of the digest, which means none of that "I just want to read to you (or let you write) and make you a cup of tea" nonsense. Get your hands dirty. I do it every day.
4) Sunny and chilly here in Providence. "We are shrouded all about with the hideous folds of autumn's death shroud!" See, I can still write bad goth poetry.
5) With any luck, "Ex Libris" isn't only me reworking "The Bone's Prayer" and "Sanderlings." This thought occurred to me yesterday.
6) Today, it has been six years since the day I completed Daughter of Hounds.
7) And, finally, you ought have a look at Sonya Taaffe's (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sovay) new poetry collection, A Mayse-Bikhl. Check out her blog entry on the chapbook. Meanwhile:
You walk on, with dybbuks in you, even when they are yourself. You don't believe in the Messiah, but you keep looking to the east. The life of the world to come feels a lot like this one. You talk to yourself, because someone should always be telling the story. The only person who can take that word off your forehead is you.
Looking East,
Aunt Beast
1) Yesterday I managed to write only a little better than a thousand words on "Ex Libris," because I spent over an hour trying to figure out exactly when a particular Providence church burned (I know the exact date on which it was demolished, after the fire).
2) I woke grateful that this was Monday, only to discover that it isn't.
3) For Sirenia Digest #72, I want to do another "Question @ Hand" feature, as we haven't done one in quite a while, and I actually have fun with them. Yeah, fun. Imagine that. Anyway, I'm taking requests. That is, it would be great if people had suggestions, as I'm drawing a blank. So, you know, something along the lines of "What if you had me alone for twenty-four hours with nothing but a spork and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and I was hogtied, and no one would ever know what you did, what would you do to me?" Only more imaginative. That sort of thing, in keeping with the flavor of the digest, which means none of that "I just want to read to you (or let you write) and make you a cup of tea" nonsense. Get your hands dirty. I do it every day.
4) Sunny and chilly here in Providence. "We are shrouded all about with the hideous folds of autumn's death shroud!" See, I can still write bad goth poetry.
5) With any luck, "Ex Libris" isn't only me reworking "The Bone's Prayer" and "Sanderlings." This thought occurred to me yesterday.
6) Today, it has been six years since the day I completed Daughter of Hounds.
7) And, finally, you ought have a look at Sonya Taaffe's (
sovay) new poetry collection, A Mayse-Bikhl. Check out her blog entry on the chapbook. Meanwhile:You walk on, with dybbuks in you, even when they are yourself. You don't believe in the Messiah, but you keep looking to the east. The life of the world to come feels a lot like this one. You talk to yourself, because someone should always be telling the story. The only person who can take that word off your forehead is you.
Looking East,
Aunt Beast
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Get your hands dirty. I do it every day.
Well, if you want to avoid the 'I'll have you read a book' style of replies, you could ask something along the lines of "What laws were broken to land you and CRK at the police station under arrest, and what are you going to tell the arraigning officer?".
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"What laws were broken to land you and CRK at the police station under arrest, and what are you going to tell the arraigning officer?"
Hmmmm. Almost interesting. Headed in the right direction.
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For now, I'm sick as a dog, my brain is not working well (see my earlier comment to
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I HAVE to set some time aside to read the latest SD. It's been too goddamn busy this week.
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The paragraph from [info]sovay is beautiful
Yerp.
I hate the late fall/winter even here.
Only the summer soothes me. Hope you feel better soon.
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I'd suggest something along the lines of "if you could inflict any disease on me, real or imaginary, what would it be?"
Oooooh. That has possibilities. Maybe if it has to be a fictitious disease, an incurable one that leaves those it inflicts completely crippled...
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Apropos of nothing, I agree with your assessment that the ghosts on American Horror Story are more interesting than the flesh and blood people. I thought that Halloween Part One was one of the better episodes so far.
I'm really looking forward to the Alabaster comic. Steve Lieber is one of my favorite artists. I've met him at a couple of cons. He's a super nice guy too. Your words and Steve's art...perfect.
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The nastier the better.
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Your words and Steve's art...perfect.
This is our goal.
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You would post a written fragment (a found document of some kind) which is supposed to be about you (in whatever construct you deem it to identify you) as a prompt, and your question to readers is:
"Based on this document, what sort of urban legend would you create about me after reading it?"
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You would post a written fragment (a found document of some kind) which is supposed to be about you (in whatever construct you deem it to identify you) as a prompt, and your question to readers is:
"Based on this document, what sort of urban legend would you create about me after reading it?"
Maaaaaybe.
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The autumn leaves are falling like rain in Atlanta...
Now, I'm imagining rain falling like autumn leaves. I'd miss Atlanta, if it had been kind to us.
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I think the problem with this one is that I seem to experience no loss of control.
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And would add, "And what argument(s) would your attorney be compelled to make in your defense?"
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Which of your nightmares would I be? What would you make me dream?
(And thank you.)
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Brought to you by how I once wrote the line "I choke on the emptiness!" and then thought That's either bad goth poetry or bad porn.
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A good line. Autumn seems to appeal to me more and more as I get older. The season feels so much more spectacular over here; an English autumn's a bit paltry in comparison.
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Which of your nightmares would I be? What would you make me dream?
You're welcome.
And not bad. But...the question would be better framed, "What would you make me dream?"
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"If you wanted to see if you could actually torture me with bad Goth poetry, and not just make me laugh at it, what would you write?"
Laugh less.
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Autumn seems to appeal to me more and more as I get older.
A shame I've experienced no such change.
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I thought that was what I asked. I was envisioning an interchange.
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Okay. Misunderstood.
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Question @ Hand
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