"The mirror casts mon reflet partout."
A sunny day, and everything is turning green, that softest, palest yellow-green of early spring. Flowers, large and small. But there's a chill in the air, a breeze I'd much prefer were not there. I took a brief walk with Spooky, and the air was a little too chilly for my liking. Currently, it's 65˚F; our high was 67˚F.
Still recovering. Annoyingly, I think I felt better yesterday than I did today. I was certainly more productive yesterday. Today I exchanged email with SubPress and an editor/author, and I tried to work on "Night Fishing" but only wrote a pathetic paragraph or so. Spooky was more productive than I, and she got the Big Cartel shop off the ground. Right now, we're offering "Year One" of Sirenia Digest (Dec. 2005-Dec. 2006), both as individual issues and bundled. Most of those issues contain at least one Vince Locke illustration, by the way. This is where it all began.
The afternoon's movie was Sam Mendes' Skyfall (2012).
This morning I finished my re-read of Lonesome Dove (1985), which I love more each time I go back to it. This afternoon, I came across some very illuminating words from Larry McMurty about the novel:
It's hard to go wrong if one writes at length about the Old West, still the phantom leg of the American psyche. I thought I had written about a harsh time and some pretty harsh people, but, to the public at large, I had produced something nearer to an idealization; instead of a poor man's Inferno, filled with violence, faithlessness and betrayal, I had actually delivered a kind of Gone With The Wind of the West, a turnabout I'll be mulling over for a long, long time.
Myself, I never saw Lonesome Dove as a romanticizing or idealizing anything. But I do see what he's saying about how many people received the book; all we write are mirrors. And the comparison with the Inferno is apt, I think. Oh, nd I've begun reading Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin's American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer (2005).
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
1:12 p.m.
Still recovering. Annoyingly, I think I felt better yesterday than I did today. I was certainly more productive yesterday. Today I exchanged email with SubPress and an editor/author, and I tried to work on "Night Fishing" but only wrote a pathetic paragraph or so. Spooky was more productive than I, and she got the Big Cartel shop off the ground. Right now, we're offering "Year One" of Sirenia Digest (Dec. 2005-Dec. 2006), both as individual issues and bundled. Most of those issues contain at least one Vince Locke illustration, by the way. This is where it all began.
The afternoon's movie was Sam Mendes' Skyfall (2012).
This morning I finished my re-read of Lonesome Dove (1985), which I love more each time I go back to it. This afternoon, I came across some very illuminating words from Larry McMurty about the novel:
It's hard to go wrong if one writes at length about the Old West, still the phantom leg of the American psyche. I thought I had written about a harsh time and some pretty harsh people, but, to the public at large, I had produced something nearer to an idealization; instead of a poor man's Inferno, filled with violence, faithlessness and betrayal, I had actually delivered a kind of Gone With The Wind of the West, a turnabout I'll be mulling over for a long, long time.
Myself, I never saw Lonesome Dove as a romanticizing or idealizing anything. But I do see what he's saying about how many people received the book; all we write are mirrors. And the comparison with the Inferno is apt, I think. Oh, nd I've begun reading Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin's American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer (2005).
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
1:12 p.m.