greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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"And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass of what was everything."

I've just gotten word that Lee Moyer's cover for Two Worlds and In Between has been nominated for a Chelsey Award. Though, gotta admit, I'm a little – no very, in awe of Tom Kidd's cover for the Subterranean Press edition of Harlan's Deathbird Stories. Though, obviously, I hope it's Lee who wins.


Yesterday, I wrote 1,658 words and finished "Quiet Houses," which will appear in Sirenia Digest #79. I very much hope you like it. I do. Very Angela Carter, only a little less ornate. Also, Spooky finished with Round #1 of the editing of the Blood Oranges typescript. It was really only checking to be sure she hadn't missed anything Saturday afternoon and night (and then she ran a shitton of errands while I wrote).

It's a balmy 69˚F. In late June. Honestly, I might be able to stay in New England another year or two. But this bullshit cold weather is doing me too much damage. I swear to dog, I'd move to the south of France, or any country with a Mediterranean coastline (that was not also in dangerous political and social turmoil), if only publishers would pay me, you know, an actual living wage. I sure as fuck won't move back to the south. Not the fascist state of Florida. Maybe southern California. I can't hope for Hawaii. Mexico or Central America, maybe. So long as it's warm and there's a coastline.


I was just reading about sovay's computer going kaput, and her trials at the Apple store. What really caught my attention was this bit: "I am the only person with a book in this entire store. Everyone else around me waits staring into their phones or the air. I'm reading ethnography from 1912, but I feel like I'm conducting it a hundred years later." And yeah, Kathryn and I are seeing this everywhere, and we have been for the last several years. People stand around talking into little black devices – in public – and these are often very personal conversations, or arguments, or just utter who-gives-a-shit-about-your-life bullshit. Not emergencies. This is what we've come to? Never mind the idiots who text and talk while they drive (though it's illegal here). Has society disconnected this much from where they stand? Has it lost its tether to the moment? Must it publicly babble like the insane? Obviously, it has. The silent privacy of reading while one, say, waits in the Apple store, or rides a bus, or a train, or a plane, is no longer sufficient. All contact, all the time.

Aunt Beast
Tags: angela carter, cover art, editing, harlan, idiots with their mobile devices, lee moyer, sirenia digest, sonya
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