Caitlín R. Kiernan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greygirlbeast) wrote2011-11-21 01:13 pm
greygirlbeast) wrote2011-11-21 01:13 pm
Hamingjusamur Björk Day!
On this day in 1965, the stars were right, and the Old Ones dropped some especially gnarly acid and, in the throes of their LSD-induced mischief, delivered unto Iceland the sparkly, polymorphous girl-thing duly named Björk Guðmundsdóttir. So don't tell me we don't have proof of alien civilizations. Hamingjusamur Björk Day!
Today is going to be weird. I feel it coming, like a great black tsunami.
As for yesterday, well...let's put it this way: Fuck me dead. After spending three days I could ill afford to lose trying to write "Sexing the Weird" I realized (about 6 p.m. last night) that I was writing shit and, at least, had the good sense to stop. Eighteen pages of shit. And if I'd kept going, I'd have wasted another day or two, and have thirty-two pages of shit. So, I've just emailed Bill Schafer to tell him there will be no introduction to Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart, or if there will be, it will be very short. Something like, "This is my weird sex book about weird sex." Only I'll have it translated into Icelandic first. Or Finnish. Or maybe Basque. Basque is suitably weird. But yeah, washout. And throwing away words is among the most distasteful things I have to do as a writer, which is one reason I do not write in drafts. But better to know when you've made a horrid mess of things than to be such a moron that you just keep on keeping on.
Last night, I took a hot bath and tried to drown my horror at all those lost words in innumerable hours of Rift. Iron Pine Peaks was hit by the Endless Air Invasion®. No, really. I think one of the programmers spilled his Cheetos and Mountain Dew in a server. The baddies just kept fucking respawning, and there were no air rifts to close to stop the attacks, so an impromptu alliance of Guardians and Defiants were forced to band together to protect the imbued wardstone outside the Chancel of Labors against the merciless forces of Crucia's Storm Legion. This insanity continued about an hour and forty-five minutes before we realized the game had burped, and the "boss" was never comin' round to end the event. But, hey...stuff blew up. Thank you, Mountain Dew.
Just this second got word from Subterranean Press that preorders on Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart "will start soon, likely in a few weeks." So, there you go. Ba da pa pa. Oh, and signature pages are on their way to me. Whee!
Er...I guess that's it for now. But you should join us in Rift for RP and party favors, ice cream and yetis. Defiant side, Faeblight shard. Watchers of the Unseen. Our guild especially needs warriors. Bahmi make good warriors. But, yeah. Come. Play. You'll wonder how you ever lived without it. I shit you not, kittens.
Meanwhile, I have an obsidian tsunami to face.
Virðingarfyllst,
Föður–Eða Móðursystir Óþokki
Today is going to be weird. I feel it coming, like a great black tsunami.
As for yesterday, well...let's put it this way: Fuck me dead. After spending three days I could ill afford to lose trying to write "Sexing the Weird" I realized (about 6 p.m. last night) that I was writing shit and, at least, had the good sense to stop. Eighteen pages of shit. And if I'd kept going, I'd have wasted another day or two, and have thirty-two pages of shit. So, I've just emailed Bill Schafer to tell him there will be no introduction to Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart, or if there will be, it will be very short. Something like, "This is my weird sex book about weird sex." Only I'll have it translated into Icelandic first. Or Finnish. Or maybe Basque. Basque is suitably weird. But yeah, washout. And throwing away words is among the most distasteful things I have to do as a writer, which is one reason I do not write in drafts. But better to know when you've made a horrid mess of things than to be such a moron that you just keep on keeping on.
Last night, I took a hot bath and tried to drown my horror at all those lost words in innumerable hours of Rift. Iron Pine Peaks was hit by the Endless Air Invasion®. No, really. I think one of the programmers spilled his Cheetos and Mountain Dew in a server. The baddies just kept fucking respawning, and there were no air rifts to close to stop the attacks, so an impromptu alliance of Guardians and Defiants were forced to band together to protect the imbued wardstone outside the Chancel of Labors against the merciless forces of Crucia's Storm Legion. This insanity continued about an hour and forty-five minutes before we realized the game had burped, and the "boss" was never comin' round to end the event. But, hey...stuff blew up. Thank you, Mountain Dew.
Just this second got word from Subterranean Press that preorders on Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart "will start soon, likely in a few weeks." So, there you go. Ba da pa pa. Oh, and signature pages are on their way to me. Whee!
Er...I guess that's it for now. But you should join us in Rift for RP and party favors, ice cream and yetis. Defiant side, Faeblight shard. Watchers of the Unseen. Our guild especially needs warriors. Bahmi make good warriors. But, yeah. Come. Play. You'll wonder how you ever lived without it. I shit you not, kittens.
Meanwhile, I have an obsidian tsunami to face.
Virðingarfyllst,
Föður–Eða Móðursystir Óþokki
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with short introductory essay on the transhuman omnisexuality featured in Bjork's videos and performance art...
That would be so cool. Write it for me.
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Damn. I was really looking forward to reading this.
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Damn. I was really looking forward to reading this.
Well, you have my permission to write it.
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I've been ignoring my brand new kindle ever since :)
I might lose the war, but I win the battle.
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Huzzah!
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Huzzah for Bjork as well. For some reason, I'm now wondering what might have happened if she'd fucked Bowie, and what might be born from that. It'd be a better story than Dunwich Horror...
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I'm now wondering what might have happened if she'd fucked Bowie,
All my dreams would come to fruition.
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..now I have to get the brain scrub out, with a visual of Bjork offering everyone ice cream Yeti pops..
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..now I have to get the brain scrub out, with a visual of Bjork offering everyone ice cream Yeti pops..
Hey, that image works for me!
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"Sexing the Weird" - Maybe that could be an article for an upcoming issue of "Sirenia Digest"?
Maybe. I don't know. Possibly.
EX libris
Re: EX libris
Will the chapbook with 5 chambered heart be all new or also work from Sirenia digest?
Some of box. "The Yellow Alphabet" was in SD, but the 10k-word novella, "Ex Libris," that's new.
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I can't do a thing about the storm, but:
Swaying tide, caress me
Seaweed, kelp, and brine
Deep waters, dark and heaving sea
No memories, just deep breathing
No name, no shame nor time
A dark regret enfolds this shape of mine
Till the tide turns, the sea calls out once more
Till the tide turns and the sea calls out once more
—John Doyle, "Selkie"
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Thank you. I needed that.
The wave shattered, as obsidian does, cut me a fair bit, and has returned from whence it came, and now I'll heal.
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It was a great deal of fun, and a most enjoyable way to keep myself awake against all natural laws, but I shall never. Ever. EVER. Do anything like that again, and I dearly hope to never relive the confluence of factors which led to my gaining LV 20 within 48 hours of opening my account.
If only those kids in Nightmare On Elm Street had rocket pigs to keep them going, it would have ended so differently.