Yesterday, I marched quite a bit farther than expected, 2,383 steps, which by my personal standard (the only one that can matter in this instance) makes it a very good marching day, indeed. All the way up to the top of that steep final hill and most of the way back down the other side. When I made camp, I could see my goal so clearly that I almost decided to push on. But I was exhausted, and my steps would have been faltering, at best. I might have twisted an ankle in the dark. I might have done a shoddy job of THE END. Better that I have waited until today. No looking back, and there can be only joy and relief at the conclusion of this very difficult four-month march.
A question from
activistgirl regarding "Untitled 20," which appears in Tales from the Woeful Platypus (reprinted from Sirenia Digest #2):
Halfway through Tales from the Woeful Platypus and it's been great! "Untitled 20" is my favorite thus far, if I have to pick. Were you thinking of The Postal Service's or Iron and Wine's version of "Such Great Heights"? Kinda mundane question but I think it makes a difference...Sorry if you've answered this one before!
I was thinking of the version by Iron and Wine. I've not answered this one before. And "Untitled 20" happens to be one of my favourite pieces from Sirenia Digest, though I could not explain precisely why. I'd love to see hear more reaction to Tales from the Woeful Platypus, by the way. Don't be so frelling shy.
Yesterday, I came across a blog somewhere out there in which Elizabeth Hand was described as the older, less-annoying sister of Poppy Z. Brite and Caitlín Kiernan. I probably should be used to this sort of thing by now, these peculiar, almost unfathomable insults from total strangers. I mean, I guess this is meant as an insult, in that I am declared "annoying" (though I frequently am, annoying that is). On the interweb, all self-styled smart cookies will have their say.
Spooky spent most of yesterday working on her first owl doll, which I think is going to be one of her best yet. She also posted a new
ditl ("A day in the week they murdered my favorite tree."), in which I make a couple of guest appearances. After dinner, I had a hot bath, and we watched Werner Herzog's My Best Friend: Klaus Kinski (1999), then read Chapter Four of A Slight Trick of the Mind. Very late, after midnight, a marvelous wind arose, roaring through high branches and across rooftops. I read Chapter Eleven of In the Wake of Madness ("George Black"). I think I was asleep a little after three, early for me.
I should repeat the eBay announcement from yesterday's entry:
Please take a moment to have a look at the latest eBay auctions. There's a copy of the ARC of From Weird and Distant Shores, one of the last I'll be able to offer. The same is true of the copies of "On the Road to Jefferson" and Candles for Elizabeth. There's also an ARC of the Subterranean Press edition of Low Red Moon and a copy of The Five of Cups.
Anyway, yes, the platypus bleats once more.
A question from
activistgirl regarding "Untitled 20," which appears in Tales from the Woeful Platypus (reprinted from Sirenia Digest #2):Halfway through Tales from the Woeful Platypus and it's been great! "Untitled 20" is my favorite thus far, if I have to pick. Were you thinking of The Postal Service's or Iron and Wine's version of "Such Great Heights"? Kinda mundane question but I think it makes a difference...Sorry if you've answered this one before!
I was thinking of the version by Iron and Wine. I've not answered this one before. And "Untitled 20" happens to be one of my favourite pieces from Sirenia Digest, though I could not explain precisely why. I'd love to see hear more reaction to Tales from the Woeful Platypus, by the way. Don't be so frelling shy.
Yesterday, I came across a blog somewhere out there in which Elizabeth Hand was described as the older, less-annoying sister of Poppy Z. Brite and Caitlín Kiernan. I probably should be used to this sort of thing by now, these peculiar, almost unfathomable insults from total strangers. I mean, I guess this is meant as an insult, in that I am declared "annoying" (though I frequently am, annoying that is). On the interweb, all self-styled smart cookies will have their say.
Spooky spent most of yesterday working on her first owl doll, which I think is going to be one of her best yet. She also posted a new
ditl ("A day in the week they murdered my favorite tree."), in which I make a couple of guest appearances. After dinner, I had a hot bath, and we watched Werner Herzog's My Best Friend: Klaus Kinski (1999), then read Chapter Four of A Slight Trick of the Mind. Very late, after midnight, a marvelous wind arose, roaring through high branches and across rooftops. I read Chapter Eleven of In the Wake of Madness ("George Black"). I think I was asleep a little after three, early for me.I should repeat the eBay announcement from yesterday's entry:
Please take a moment to have a look at the latest eBay auctions. There's a copy of the ARC of From Weird and Distant Shores, one of the last I'll be able to offer. The same is true of the copies of "On the Road to Jefferson" and Candles for Elizabeth. There's also an ARC of the Subterranean Press edition of Low Red Moon and a copy of The Five of Cups.
Anyway, yes, the platypus bleats once more.
- Current Location:Nicholson Crater
- Current Mood:
relieved - Current Music:R.E.M., "These Days"
Comments
And the thing is, I'm way more annoying than my fiction.
Paper clay.
Thank you. She's been rather troublesome this week, but the paint did wonders for how I feel about her.
Unfortunately, she is being difficult about clothing now. What a pest.
If your style weren't compelling and memorable, she wouldn't have thought to insult you, so on that score I'd rank it as a compliment. A voice in the wilderness of the Internet crying out that your prose is bad is probably not going to make much difference to your readers, and I'd think anyone who'd enjoy your style would not be put off by the "purple" descriptor. One person's "purple" is another's "magical" or "sensual" or whatever.
It seems, more often than not, in this time when prose is ruled by the Style of No Style, that "purple" might be slapped upon the work of any author with a hint of voice. They want Wonderbread, I think, gooey and white and without much flavour beyond that sweet blandness.
I may never have actually eaten Wonderbread (for real), and your description has made me not want to eat it ever. There! You've done more good!
It was a "Secret Santa" gift, which i asked for :)
I love the look of the book, with the artwork printed directly
on the cover, a 100 year old style.
And the artwork itself with the touches of Art Nouveau (but with
the pattern of the design suggesting a Veve)
The title alone is totally unique and irresistible...
I've only browsed through it so far but what i've read suggests
that i should take my time reading each story, they seem moody
with evocative language and feeling.
Thanks For This :)
on the cover, a 100 year old style.
This is certainly one of my favourite things about the two books.
I also like the trend of insulting one author to praise another. I still occasionally get people teling me how I can write circles around Stephen King or whatever, which only tells me that they know absolutely nothing about me.
God, people are such utter shit, most of 'em. Every once in a while I get to thinking they are unique, fascinating creatures, but the world always slaps me back into shape.
I sort of thought, in this instance, we were all three getting the slur, though, yeah. I guess Elizabeth Hand was being slurred the least. And at our expense.
God, people are such utter shit, most of 'em. Every once in a while I get to thinking they are unique, fascinating creatures, but the world always slaps me back into shape.
Indeed. Only, I do the "every once in a while thing" very often anymore.
http://tinyurl.com/yoyand
Nice. Thank you. :-)
Yep. Sometime soon.
I was thinking of the version by Iron and Wine.
That was my guess...it's more earthy (there I go with the effing puns).
And "Untitled 20" happens to be one of my favourite pieces from Sirenia Digest, though I could not explain precisely why.
That story's been haunting me since I read it. Until I gave up clay for metals I was aiming for a focus on ceramics for my 3D minor. I really miss the smell of clay. I think the reason I love spelunking is also the smell, so it makes me miss that as well. I guess that's just one of the amazing things about writing-you never know what chords you might strike with your readers!
Me and mud, we go way back...
So far i've read it in bed, and in church when forced to go to my cousins christening (much to my family's disgust), its the perfect size to carry around to read whenever one has a spare five minutes. My favorite story is still Untitled 17, but they're all amazing in their own ways.
Okay. I think you have some sort of special award coming.
The platypus is pleased.