greygirlbeast: (Bjorkdroid)
Yes, weird, wet weather. And here we all are, in the aftermath of this somewhat unusual nor'easter. We're lucky; we didn't lose power, though a lot of Rhode Island did (~20,000 as of 7 ayem this morning; power is being restored). Though, honestly, I don't think I've found it as disturbing as have many who've lived here a long time, who seem to perceive it as a singularly peculiar storm. Maybe, this is simply because I don't know the local weather patterns. It was odd seeing the snow on green leaves, and the wind was very loud, and now the ground is strewn with a carpet of dead green leaves; we got possibly two or three inches of wet snow, almost all of which has now melted. Oh, and the worse thing about this storm? The coining of the obnoxious neologism "snowtober."

And my head is in about seventy-five places at the moment.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,131 words on a new piece, "Latitude 41°21'45.89"N, Longitude 71°29'0.62"W." It's a sort of mad tumble, trip-over-itself style. I'm enjoying it, and trying to resist subjecting the finished story to a "cut up" technique before it appears in the Digest. I'm also fascinated that a piece of erotica can bear a longitude and latitude designation as a title (Harlan did this before me, of course, with "Adrift Just Off the Islets of Langerhans: Latitude 38° 54' N, Longitude 77° 00' 13" W") and now I want to see the human body drawn with lines of both, mathematically precise, that any point on any given body can be pinpointed. All is need is for a model (who will model nude of course), a geographer, and a mathematician to volunteer. Anyway, this is the story Vince will be illustrating this month, by the way. And again, my apologies that this issue, #71, will be so late.


Bitter cold is coming tonight. Forecasts of 26˚ Fahrenheit for Providence. I'm thinking a lot about the Occupy Wall Street protesters, and their resolve, and how they have weathered this. How I'm sure various cities hope the cold will end the occupations:

From the ows website:

It's been dumping snow here in NYC all day, high winds and 3 inches of slush on the ground. With the NYPD and FDNY confiscating six generators on Friday and this unprecedented October snow, those occupying Liberty Plaza in downtown NYC are in need of emergency supplies crucial for cold weather survival (and occupation).

Please note the list of winter donation needs provided. I would be there myself if my health allowed. Fuck the career. I would be there if I would be anything more than a burden. So, from a distance, to quote Peter Gabriel, "I will do what I can do." And, of course, we have the horror stories coming out of Oakland and Denver.


Heard new Kate Bush last night. The jury is still out. Mother and I are still collating. Also, we watched the first episode of NBC's Grimm, and as I said of Twitter last night, it is almost not awful. Maybe, in time, it will even be...less almost not awful.

I think that's all for now. I almost fell asleep last night reading The Log from the Sea of Cortez (1951). A wonderful book.

Amid Weird Autumn Weather,
Aunt Beast
greygirlbeast: (chi2)
I made a point of getting to bed early last night. I was asleep by 2 a.m. But then the cat woke me at three, and I didn't get back to sleep until five. I am presently of the opinion that eight hours with nightmares is better than five hours with nightmares. Others may disagree.

At least yesterday was a somewhat productive day. I began and finished the preface for Alabaster. It is now almost a complete ms. It wasn't easy, though, sitting down and summing up my history with Dancy Flammarion, all my feelings for her. Who she is to me. Who she is of me. In the end, the preface came to 1,426 words. Much time was spent going back through both my blog and paper journals, which is never a healthy thing to do, looking at all those days that have come and gone, all those people who have come and gone. But my memory seems not to be what it once was, and it took me about two hours to figure out for certain which I'd written first, "Les Fleurs Empoisonnées" or "The Well of Stars and Shadow." Turns out it's the former, which is what I'd thought; the story was written in the summer of 2001. But I still couldn't remember when I wrote "The Well of Stars and Shadow." With some help from Spooky, I finally determined it was written during the last ten days or so of October 2001, about a month before I began keeping an online journal. Oh, and I wrote in Trilobite: The Writing of Threshold that "The Well of Stars and Shadow" was written in "late 2000." So, whoops. This fading memories thing is very disturbing.

Today, I'm going to do my best to write an entire vignette.

This morning, I was reading Poppy's LJ and a bit of it stuck with me. She wrote, "But I've never seriously doubted that New Orleans was my home and the place I needed to be..." Never in my life have I felt that way about a city. Never in my life have I felt that way about any place. When I was twenty one, I almost felt that way about Boulder, Colorado, but I knew I couldn't stay there. And once I'd left, I knew that I could never go back. I've certainly never felt this way about any part of the southeastern US. And I think it's pretty frelled-up, having been alive this long and never once having felt truly at home. I wonder if psychiatry has gotten around to pathologizing this particular sensation yet? Geographical dysphoria, perhaps?

A thank you to David Kirkpatrick, who has offered to send me a copy of SimLife, which I must admit I've never played.

The auction for letter Z of Frog Toes and Tentacles will begin very shortly after I've completed this entry. Once again, it's being offered with a handmade "cozy," designed by Spooky. I cut the fabric. She did all the stitching, including the embroidered Z. Crushed black velvet outside, red silk inside, to match the cover of the lettered edition. Here are the photos (behind the cut). I'll add a postscript to this entry with a link as soon as the auction begins:

( Letter Z and it's handmade 'cozy' slipcase) )

I think that's it for today. At least, that's it for now. Somewhere, there are words, and now I have to find them.

Postscript: Here's the letter Z auction page. And here's the general auction page.


greygirlbeast: (Default)
Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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