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Entry No. 5,402

Sunny this morning, with clouds. There will likely be thunderstorms later today, just like yesterday. I love the rhythm of summer in north-central Alabama – hot and humid days and, often, evenings cooled by thunderstorms. Currently, it's 82˚F, the humidity at 74%, and the heat index at 87%.


Harlan's death keeps rising up and smacking me in the face. Someday it will feel real, but not yet. A world without Harlan Ellison is almost unimaginable to me.

Like the wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerors and commoners alike. And all that we are, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment.
~ H.E., "Paladin of the Lost Hour" (1985)


Yesterday was one of the most physically exhausting days I've had in a very long time. First, we woke up at Mom's, unloaded boxes of stock books, then drove back to Birmingham for another load (stopping in Irondale to get breakfast from Jack's). After that second trip to Leeds, I shelved books in my office, and I managed to pretty much finish with the two paleo' shelves, all those hundreds of volumes. So, I've now shelved about 4 out of 10 bookcases, after two weeks here.

After the bookcases, Spooky and I decided to put the bed together. It's an awkward wrought-iron canopy affair, and it's been disassembled since we took it apart last July and decided to sleep on mattresses on the floor a while. It really needs three people to put together, but we did it anyway. Stepping up onto a chair to hold part of the canopy in place, I hurt my already ailing left knee, but we finally got it together, after about an hour of work. We rewarded ourselves with a trip to Target at Brookwood Village for new sheets and pillows and pillow cases (our old ones were, well, gross) and with Chinese takeout – beef fried rice and steamed dumpling with sinister mystery meat inside. Later, we watched the rest of Season Two of GLOW, which we'd begun at my mother's Friday night. I loved the first season, but Season Two is even better, and the last episode is very, very good. If you've not given this Netflix series a try, do so.

And that was, more or less, yesterday.


10:30 a.m.


( 2 comments — Have your say! )
Jul. 1st, 2018 07:24 pm (UTC)
Fried rice for lunch it is then.
Albeit the non-carnivore kind.
Jaime Weida
Jul. 1st, 2018 10:44 pm (UTC)
Congratulations on the move, and good luck with the ordeal of unpacking. (The first major move of my life I remember was when I was about five and my parents moved into a new house. I said to my mom, “Won’t it be fun unpacking and arranging everything!” Mom VERY emphatically said, “NO IT WON’T.” I have experience of that now.) While I’m sorry that I probably won’t get to hear you speak again between your retirement from public events and the distance (Providence isn’t that far from NYC, where I live, after all), I am glad that you are back home in a place that makes you happier.

Also, condolences on Harlan Ellison. I never got to meet him, but I always wanted to, and am sad that I never will. I have a number of books signed by him and some of the old paperbacks you showed in a previous post. It is very nice to hear that he was so helpful to you; I know he had a history of being generous to other writers. I am sure you have already read it, but Neil Gaiman also posted a memorial to Ellison on his journal. “The Whimper of Whipped Dogs” from Deathbird Stories is one of the most chilling stories I have ever read and I regularly teach it in my English classes. Not all the students always get it, but those who do, REALLY get it.

I actually found out about his death in the middle of teaching my class last week. A student asked me about something I’d showed them previously online, so I brought up the website. And it contained a notice of Ellison’s death. I just kind of sat there saying, “Oh. Oh DAMN. OH FUCK.” (I never curse when teaching so my students immediately knew something was up.) At least I got to talk to them a little bit about Ellison, about whom only one of them knew, and recommend some of his stories.

Oh, and I DO still read this journal regularly, even though I seldom comment.

(I am the person in the black dress who spoke to you after your panel at StokerCon and who talked to you after your reading a few years ago at the KGB Bar in NYC. At the latter time my right arm was in a cast and I was wearing the “7” necklace from The Drowning Girl that Spooky made. (That necklace currently hangs in a place of honour in my office.) Of course, you’ve met so many fans that I don’t expect you to remember me; but your writing has had a major impact on my life and my scholarship.)
( 2 comments — Have your say! )

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