Be safe, be seen, be anyone you like
While looking for something else, I found a page of notes I made to myself last summer, it looks like on the way to/during NecronomiCon. The first one reads as though it might have been shaping up to be a post, but I have (appropriately) no idea where it was going:
There are ways in which traveling by myself, especially at night, feels better than going anywhere else any other way. This strikes me as dangerous and also in some way irresponsible: one of the classic noir fantasies is to walk right out of your life and into someone else's and in most of these stories someone forgets to mind the gap. Taking the night train is itself like traveling into a dream. Outside of the safe confines of routine, you might be anyone. Might even surprise yourself. Pleasantly or unpleasantly, the journey doesn't care. Like Dionysos. When the walls fall down, it's just you against the sky, and you'd better be strong enough to stand on your own. So many characters in these dream plays find out they aren't.
In other news, I just read my own dream record dating back to 1999 (some years nothing written down, some years it's like I was never even awake) and I think I have some kind of reflective hangover. What I wish I had was the breathing room to write fiction. I feel terribly as though I am forgetting, or have already forgotten, how.
[edit] I took a hot shower and reminded myself that I am underslept and still sick to the point that I may bail on tomorrow's chorus rehearsal and that tonight's Hanukkah party was a success but also intensely full of people: in other words, not in good condition for accurate self-evaluation. I suspect it did not help to transcribe a bunch of half-finished introspection. I am going to read some more Raymond Durgnat, who delighted me almost on page one by suggesting that one could read Psycho (1960) as a werewolf story, as I do, and see what I can do about the sleep end of this problem.
There are ways in which traveling by myself, especially at night, feels better than going anywhere else any other way. This strikes me as dangerous and also in some way irresponsible: one of the classic noir fantasies is to walk right out of your life and into someone else's and in most of these stories someone forgets to mind the gap. Taking the night train is itself like traveling into a dream. Outside of the safe confines of routine, you might be anyone. Might even surprise yourself. Pleasantly or unpleasantly, the journey doesn't care. Like Dionysos. When the walls fall down, it's just you against the sky, and you'd better be strong enough to stand on your own. So many characters in these dream plays find out they aren't.
In other news, I just read my own dream record dating back to 1999 (some years nothing written down, some years it's like I was never even awake) and I think I have some kind of reflective hangover. What I wish I had was the breathing room to write fiction. I feel terribly as though I am forgetting, or have already forgotten, how.
[edit] I took a hot shower and reminded myself that I am underslept and still sick to the point that I may bail on tomorrow's chorus rehearsal and that tonight's Hanukkah party was a success but also intensely full of people: in other words, not in good condition for accurate self-evaluation. I suspect it did not help to transcribe a bunch of half-finished introspection. I am going to read some more Raymond Durgnat, who delighted me almost on page one by suggesting that one could read Psycho (1960) as a werewolf story, as I do, and see what I can do about the sleep end of this problem.

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Thank you! It helps to feel there would be an audience. Also, see edit: the absence of breathing room is a real problem, but I think I am feeling unnecessarily dismal about its effects, and instead of thinking about them I should probably try to sleep.
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I did not get as much sleep as I wanted, but I have had an incredibly inefficient day, so I hope that counts for something.
I could try to write to a prompt if you wanted, although I don't know that I can make promises.
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I could try to write to a prompt if you wanted, although I don't know that I can make promises.
I was going to say YAY and also I can't think of things! And then I remembered, that's why I collect random generators. So in the interests of nothing other than maybe raising a smile at least (and if a few words, then that's wonderful), I put a rather random collection of people in the genremixer:
Evy Carnahan / Sapphire / Van Helsing - Lights & reunions
Steel / Van Helsing / Silver - Forest & hostile climate
Van Helsing / Curium - Awe/Wonder & Tradition & historical roleplay
Sapphire / Silver - Reunited
Steel / Sapphire - tragic past & family & insomnia
Curium / Lead - Speed dating
Steel / Sapphire - Hotel/Motel & Pillow/Blanket fort
Sapphire / Evy Carnahan / Curium - tentacles
Sapphire / Van Helsing - Milestone
Sherlock Holmes / Curium / Sapphire - werewolves & Hotel/Motel & Opposites
Sapphire - five things
Evy Carnahan / Curium - Private
Sapphire / Steel - Hangover & Unicorns
Lead / Evy Carnahan - closeted & poltergeist
(I meant to delete more, but they're too much fun, so I left most of them.)
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Thank you! I will see if anything happens. "Hangover & Unicorns," wow.
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I love that generator. And I only refreshed it once, so that is what remains undeleted of the first 20. It got tentacles in pretty quick, I was glad to see. ;-)
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In the SFF community it can sometimes feel like we're only writing for each other and that no one else ever sees/has interest in what we're doing. On the one hand, hey! That's a pretty awesome community to be writing for. But I'd like to also add that your writing--here I'm not talking generic you but Sovay-you--does reach a wider audience. It's just that those readers don't *talk* much (don't leave reviews, aren't active online). But you know they're out there from the random comments you find from time to time referring to you. There are readers. I was aware of/impressed by your writing before I knew you here.
... I hope you did get some sleep.
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I am working on it!
But you know they're out there from the random comments you find from time to time referring to you. There are readers. I was aware of/impressed by your writing before I knew you here.
I don't think I knew that about you. Thank you for telling me.
... I hope you did get some sleep.
I did, although I appear to have woken up from it sicker than I went to sleep. I am going to try to have a very quiet day.
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...man if i could make that a real thing i would be so many people's Best People Ever.
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You would.