Kathryn has a cold, and I seem to be catching it.
Today was Charlemagne Records' last day. I mentioned the imminent demise of Charlemagne back on December 4th, when Kathryn told me, the 42-year-old Five Points South record shop I first visited in 1978, when I was still in high school. This afternoon, Kathryn and I stopped by, because I'd have regretted not going. She got an old Burl Ives record. I got a poster that was tacked to the counter beneath the cash register. As I was leaving the shop, the Rufus Wainwright cover of "Hallelujah" started playing, and I am not ashamed to say that I cried.
Piece by piece....
Tonight...well, actually, everything sorta went to shit after Charlemagne (how often have historians said that?), starting with Publix not having a pecan pie. Oh, but Fresh Market had one of the worst pecan pies I've ever tried to eat! What the fuck is wrong with the world when you can't find a goddamn pecan pie in Alabama? Anyway, I came home and watched a documentary about the demise of Egypt's Old Kingdom and another about Hannibal's route through the Alps.
You know, I'm gonna leave out the crappy stuff. Who cares.
Tonight, we watched Wes Andersen's The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), which Spooky and I usually watch at Christmas. The Tenenbaums came late this year.
It wasn't such a bad year, 2019. I've sure as hell had far worse recently. If nothing else, it was probably my most productive year, as an author, in a while. I wrote eleven new short stories for Sirenia Digest, plus three very long Dancy Flammarion stories for Subterranean Press, and I wrote most of The Tindalos Asset, which I'd been working on since late 2017.
I'll say more about 2019 tomorrow, unless I feel too bad to sit at the computer, in which case I won't. And Sirenia Digest subscribers should have the new issue by now.
See You Next Year,
1:42 p.m., Charlemagne Records (1977-2019)