greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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"Every Day I Write the Book"

I need to thank a few people for recent gifts. First, Kim Turner who sent me a copy of Windsor McCay's Dream of the Rarebit Fiend (1904-1913). A huge and beautiful and wonderful volume, and I am extremely thankful. Also, Stephen Spector sent a CD with various Decemberists rarities. And then, this morning, the USPS brought me a package from Poppy (docbrite) containing a small box of absinthe-flavored chocolates from New Orleans' own Sucré. Watch it, people. You're going to spoil me.

Yesterday was a genuinely remarkable writing day, and I managed 1,820 words, and finished "The Thousand-and-Third Tale of Scheherazade." This is the first of my two "Poe tribute" stories for Sirenia Digest #38. Today, I will begin the second story.

My thanks to Sonya (sovay) for figuring out that Crowley's Hudson River "Aesopus Island" is now (and may have been then) "Esopus Island."

I ventured out into the world yesterday, into Outside, and hardly any of the snow has melted. We crossed the Providence River on our way to the market, and it remains partially frozen. Since the Epic Extraction (January 10th), I'd only really left the house once, for the drive to Moosup Valley (on January 16th). I realized yesterday that, over the course of some 16 days, I'd been Outside maybe five hours, total, which is bad even for me. I have resolved to do better. My world is out there, not in here.

Last night, we watched the newest episode of Battlestar Galactica, "A Disquiet Follows My Soul." It was, all in all, a solid episode, but I can't help but point out that, with the story drawing to a close, it's time to stop introducing more subplots and devote the available time to addressing those that are pre-existing. Afterwards, we watched Gil Kenan's City of Ember, an adaptation of Jeanne Duprau's novel (which I have not read). On the one hand, it's a beautiful film, to be sure, and Ember is a marvelously realized world. But, on the other, many of the cast members seemed to be set on autopilot (the older actors, mainly), and the plot holes were so numerous that even I couldn't ignore them. I do try, normally. Plot is not usually foremost on my mind. Other things interest me more, and, usually, if a writer or filmmaker has done a sufficient job tending to such matters as mood and characterization and worldbuilding, I'm willing to overlook a shoddy job of plot construction, that thing Margaret Atwood referred to as "a what and a what and a what." (Exact quote, from "Happy Endings", "That's about all that can be said for plots, which anyway are just one thing after another, a what and a what and a what.") In the end, I wanted to like City of Ember much more than I actually could.

Sorry to keep harping on this, but, if you have not yet ordered a copy of A is for Alien, I hope that you will do so today. Just look at the cover. How can you possibly resist?

Spooky has decalred I cannot legally change my name to "La Bête Gris." I mean, I could, legally, but she forbids it. So, maybe it will be a nom de plum for certain of my writings to come.

And the platypus says the dodo says that's enough journalizing for one day, and I'm wondering, since when does the platypus do the dodo's bidding?
Tags: a is for alien, magick, movies, outside, platypus, sirenia, writing

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