greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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Sometimes you sulk, sometimes you burn...

A bit warm here in Providence. 81F in the apartment right now, and that's with Dr. Muñoz blasting in the middle parlour. It was worse yesterday. But the remnants of Hanna are headed our way, and the promise of rain and cooler weather. Right now, Ike's a scary looking beast, even after dropping to a Category 3.

No writing again, yesterday. Someone made a comment about Clive Barker's "The Hellbound Heart," and I started rereading it, and there went the day. This can't continue. Today, it's back to The Red Tree. Anyway, that's the first time since 1986 or so that I'd read "The Hellbound Heart." It's a far sight better than the film that was made from it (we won't get into the sequels, except to say I have an odd, soft spot for Hellraiser II), but really wasn't as good as I remembered. The sexual elements are too important not to have been handled better. Storywise, the last half wanders about, to and fro, as though it's not quite sure how to wrap everything up. But the Cenobites remain delightfully eerie (and sexy) creations, as does the "Lemarchand configuration." Ironically, in the end, I was left wishing that Barker had written it as a longer work, at least as long as "Cabal." Either that or a much shorter work. Still, it has a spark.

After Spooky picked up our weekly bag of produce at the Dexter Training Grounds (and this week, we got tomatoes, lettuce, kale, two nice eggplants, peaches, and green beans), we headed down to Beavertail. Spooky's taken to watching the tide charts and surf reports, and we knew the waves would be pretty good. We walked back down the green path to the more northerly section of the rocks, far above the lighthouse. We walked until we encountered a large cleft in the rocks at Lionshead (41°27'18.20"N, 71°23'26.98"W), a sort of fissure, roughly 25' across, maybe 20' down to the rising tide. To get around it, we'd have had to follow it west a ways, and night was already coming on, so we stopped there. I allowed myself to pay more attention to the geology than my footing, and stepped on a slick bit of algae and took a fall. I only scraped up my left arm a bit, though I narrowly missed sliding over the edge and into the sloshing water-filled fissure*. I guess I haven't forgotten everything I learned, way back when, when I had to climb rock faces for a living, because I fell well and managed to stop myself from going over. I think it scared the piss out of Spooky, but we were both laughing about it as soon as I'd gotten back up onto stable ground. We spotted an Upland Sandpiper (Bartamia longicauda) in amongst the usual assortment of gulls, cormorants, and plovers. It was dark by the time we made it back to the car, maybe nine thirty before we made it home. I have photos, but don't have the time to get them up this morning. Maybe tonight.

I did a little SL, mostly stuff related to Howards End. We got a couple of sea gulls for the sea cliffs (buying animated scuplty animals in SL always gives me Bladerunner flashbacks), though I think we need about eight more. The terraforming continues. It's taking a little longer than I'd expected. Later, we watched the first half of Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd. I'd taken a Lortab for my damned aching mouth, and it had me woozy and slightly ill, and we went to bed about 2:15 ayem.

Yesterday, I received page proofs to read over for a new Call of Cthulhu gaming supplement that will include the Benefit Street ghouls. Obviously, this is being done with my consent. It's a nerdy sort of flattery, and I never get enough of that.

Please, if you have not already, consider ordering a copy of the NEW mass-market paperback edition of Daughter of Hounds (or picking one up at your local bookshop). Also, subpress is taking pre-orders for my first sf collection, A is for Alien. Thanks.

*Postscript (12:46 p.m.): I just found this news story from July 2007 about a woman falling into the very same fissure. There's a photo.
Tags: clive, reading, summer, sweeney todd, the red tree, the sea, weather, writing

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