To your heart from mine, one line to keep us safe
My poem "The House Snakes" has been accepted by Uncanny Magazine. It's the one that ambushed me night before last when I was trying to write about a different Bronze Age Aegean civilization; it owes something to Mary Renault's The King Must Die (1958), like a difference of opinion. There was a snake goddess of gold and ivory on display at the MFA when I was a child; she may be a modern fake, but I loved and used to visit her. I wouldn't have thought of her as one of my touchstones, but there is something about Ariadne I keep returning to.
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a_reasonable_man drove me and Autolycus to the cat's appointment this afternoon, he also lent me his phone to document some of the surrounding post-industrial brick. I liked this recession of layers and textures best. I really need to find some good pictures of the Hood plant back in the day.
Last night I rewatched The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003) for the first time since 2006. It is still a terrible movie—I believe now it was the earliest blockbuster I could identify as having traded emotional connective tissue for boom, not to its benefit—and I still have an unmanageable amount of feelings about Jason Flemyng's Dr. Jekyll.
Since
a_reasonable_man drove me and Autolycus to the cat's appointment this afternoon, he also lent me his phone to document some of the surrounding post-industrial brick. I liked this recession of layers and textures best. I really need to find some good pictures of the Hood plant back in the day.
Last night I rewatched The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003) for the first time since 2006. It is still a terrible movie—I believe now it was the earliest blockbuster I could identify as having traded emotional connective tissue for boom, not to its benefit—and I still have an unmanageable amount of feelings about Jason Flemyng's Dr. Jekyll.
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