Tags: algeria touchshriek

Bowie1

a picture in reverse

Just something short before the day begins.

My mind gnaws at these things endlessly, working problems unconsciously even when I am unawares and may think I've neglected or moved along to something else or forgotten or tabled a thing for a future time. And last night, just before bed, I thought —

Magick may be no more than the willful invocation of awe.

Such an obvious and simple thought that it made me dizzy. It appeals to me for at least two reasons: a) it describes my own personal experiences and b) I am ever drawn to ideas which seem too elegant to be true, yet too elegant to possibly be false. And the "no more" part is deceptive, as I've come to suspect very many people today are incapable of awe. And certainly of awe at will. Awe at will. With no self-delusion. Genuine awe at will. Magick would be an awful thing, in the original sense of the word. Which gives me a third reason to favour this tentative epiphany. A fourth would be that it does not seem to be a counterintuitive concept (though, admittedly, one may often be led astray by intuition).

So, now I will gnaw at this consciously. But, for me, I believe it's a breakthrough.

And a bit of Rilke wants to chime in here:

Denn das Schöne is nichts
als des Schrecklichen Anfang, den wir noch grade ertragen
(Thank you, Peter)

Also, I think I know who and what Algeria Touchshriek is. More later...
Shaw

leave it to memory me

I've learned from Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press that, as of this morning, the limited, leather-bound edition of Tales from the Woeful Platypus has very nearly sold out. This edition consists of 274 numbered copies, and only 25 of those now remain. So, if you want the limited, you probably should pre-order now. It includes an extra story, "Excerpt from Memoirs of a Martian Demirep ", and comes with the chapbook version of The Black Alphabet.

I do not suffer from chronic migraines. These days, they hit me hard once every month or two. Unfortunately, today was one of those rare days. I woke with it, and it's still here.

No writing today, just proofreading. We made it through chapters Seven ("Forests of the Night"), Eight ("Proverbs of Hell"), and Nine ("In Caverns of the Grave") of Low Red Moon (pp. 140-205 of the Roc tpb). So, today is merely a W, but tomorrow, I suspect, will be an X.

I've been listening to David Bowie's Outside (1995) quite a lot lately, and as a result I believe that a new alter-ego is forming — Algeria Touchshriek — presently only a shapeless, sleeping thing lodged somewhere at the outermost edge of my consciousness. I am not sure who or what sheheit may become. I suppose that, in the fullness of time, we shall see.

Long months now have I searched for a simple litmus test that would demonstrate what I knew to be true (and I know that was very unscientific of me), that LiveJournal is loads cooler than MySpace. Last night's entry yielded just such a test. LiveJournal recognizes katakana, while MySpace does not. Case closed. Which reminds me, something's gone awry with my ability to crosspost to Blogger. It's been several days now. I try and get these weird "no such file or directory" error messages that I can't makes heads or tails of. I suspect there's some incompatibility between my OS and the new Blogger, but it might be something else. Anyway, sadly, as I do not intend to invest a great deal of time in solving the mystery, this likely spells the end of the mirror at Blogger. I just wish there were a way I could let those who read this journal from Blogger know. It hardly helps to post the news here or at (the inferior) MySpace. Ah, well.

Spooky had some messed up dream this morning, in which select residents of Bikini Bottom were members of the Lovecraft's mythos. She wandered around all morning muttering the eldritch tidings of Spongebob Cthulhupants. I don't know where she gets this stuff. Really.

Last night we watched John A. Davis' The Ant Bully (2006). Truthfully, I was not yet over the bitter tatse that Monster House had left in my mouth, plus I could not help but wonder if the world really needed a third CGI movie about ants (the first two being Antz and A Bugs Life). The answer is a resounding yes. Indeed, The Ant Bully will probably end up on my list of favourite films from this year. It was quite delightful. The voice acting was superb, but what really nailed it was the art direction, creature design, and animation. It was beautiful, and it rocked, and it went a long ways towards lifting my spirits. Afterwards, Spooky read to me from Chapter One ("An Unexpected Party") of The Hobbit. I first read The Hobbit when I was in fifth grade, way back in 1975.

The weather was warmer today. Not a lot, but just enough. We took a short walk along the north edge of Freedom Park, and Spooky located several wax-myrtle bushes (Myrica cerifera), and now she's talking about making bayberry candles. and I learned quite a lot about the Family Myricaceae.

I've noted that comments seem to have fallen off now that I'm doing evening posts. Of course, I have only noted a correlation, not demonstrated a casual connection.