She is raging,
And the storm blows up in her eyes.
She will suffer the needle chill.
She's running to stand...still. ~ U2
The past is never dead. It's not even past. ~ William Faulkner
Last night, I rezzed into...wait. Does anyone still say "rezzed in"? Was that just some stupid Second Life phrase? Probably it was. Anyway, last night I pop into GW2, and there's this ENORMOUS fucking pinnacle of candy corn jutting out of the ground. Waiting to be mined.
Waiting to be mined. Yes.
And, turns out, on Tyria, okay....no, let's dispense with the pretense at suspension of disbelief, as the game developers clearly have. In GW2, no one's even fucking trying to tart up Halloween as an alien-world festival of the dead/harvest festival only analogous to earthly Halloween. Hell, even WoW calls it something else. And no one will care that NCSoft is celebrating Halloween on Tyria, because gaming "culture" is, by and large, in the main, just that stupid. For my part, I'm staying out of the game until after the "event" has passed and I can get back to what flimsy excuse for immersion it has to offer. But Jesus motherfucking shit. Giant candy corn? When you can make me loathe the only holiday I can stand, you've really outdone yourself. But...it's FUN! You know, how about an Candyland MMO. I think that would make them all happy. Candyland with hit points and stat effects and whatnot.
You can be pleasant, or you can be true. You can mince words, or you can write.
I'm about four-fifths of the way through Paola Bacigalupi's The Windup Girl, for anyone who's doing the book of the month thing. I should have it finished by the 31st. Not sure yet what next month's book will be. And, yeah. If I can read one novel-length work of fiction a month, I'm doing good.
Last night, we attended the Seventh Annual Iron Pour at the Steel Yard. Our fourth year. We were not disappointed. Last year was sort of tame, a bit safe. Last night, a molten battle between viking warriors and a dragon was enacted, and, at one point, showers of sparks sailed out over the audience three times, as liquid metal collided with shields. I smelled burning hair. We were in the front row, but on my sweater was hit. Before the show, we ate grilled cheese sandwiches from the Championship Melt food truck and talked with Billy, my piercer from Rockstar (he works security). It was three hours, the only good three hours I've had sober in...a while. Didn't last, but it was nice while it did. There are death-defying photos behind the cut:
Spooky, at twilight.
The dragon, that breathed iron.
We were about eight feet from this shower.
Sparks in the night.
The funeral pyre.
All photographs Copyright © 2012 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
Hating the Silly,