Good Lord, he hooked me clean out of time
On the one hand I feel like almost nothing happened this week, and on the other if that were true I don't think I'd feel like a freight train had used me as a sidetrack. Speaking of which, I have been hearing whistles again in the night. For a long time, whether because of the pandemic or the GLX, they were rare.
I believe![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks and I may have had a date at the beginning of the week, although I have never thought of dating protocols as relevant to my life. We drove seaward after dark and fetched up at Halford Beach in Winthrop just as the tide was turning; we sat on concrete slabs and rain-misted granite boulders and watched the white wave-break of the shingle reveal itself full of slipper shells and bladderwrack and utterly failed to notice the actual, invitingly scenic bench located farther around the slope from the steps that led down to the cobbles, the kelp, and the sea. I walked to the tide-line and touched the water; it doesn't feel like visiting the ocean otherwise. On the way home, we inadvertently drove onto Deer Island, which I had not realized owed its peninsula to the hurricane of 1938 as opposed to engineers. We rediscovered Route 145 and made it home in time for me to leave my phone in his car.
Courtesy ofashlyme, I have learned there is to be a new novel by Alan Garner. I haven't read anything of his since Boneland (2012). I keep meaning to circle back for Thursbitch (2003) and Where Shall We Run To? (2018).
I just found a note I left for myself in the fall of 2017: "All movies are spirit photography, all books are séances eventually." I wish I knew what had I had been planning to do with the sentiment, other than agree with it. I am more confused in all senses about "A golem is not unlike an art-punk remix of rocks."
I believe
rushthatspeaks and I may have had a date at the beginning of the week, although I have never thought of dating protocols as relevant to my life. We drove seaward after dark and fetched up at Halford Beach in Winthrop just as the tide was turning; we sat on concrete slabs and rain-misted granite boulders and watched the white wave-break of the shingle reveal itself full of slipper shells and bladderwrack and utterly failed to notice the actual, invitingly scenic bench located farther around the slope from the steps that led down to the cobbles, the kelp, and the sea. I walked to the tide-line and touched the water; it doesn't feel like visiting the ocean otherwise. On the way home, we inadvertently drove onto Deer Island, which I had not realized owed its peninsula to the hurricane of 1938 as opposed to engineers. We rediscovered Route 145 and made it home in time for me to leave my phone in his car.Courtesy of
ashlyme, I have learned there is to be a new novel by Alan Garner. I haven't read anything of his since Boneland (2012). I keep meaning to circle back for Thursbitch (2003) and Where Shall We Run To? (2018).I just found a note I left for myself in the fall of 2017: "All movies are spirit photography, all books are séances eventually." I wish I knew what had I had been planning to do with the sentiment, other than agree with it. I am more confused in all senses about "A golem is not unlike an art-punk remix of rocks."
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How much will it annoy me if I love Red Shift (1973) and enjoyed but did not imprint on Strandloper (1996)?
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Likewise, Garner's tiny patch of Cheshire, ten thousand years deep.
Nine
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One of Macfarlane's oceans?
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I liked Boneland but it was rough. I can't tell whether this one will have any fantastical elements in it.
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I believe it's the Uffington White Horse.
I liked Boneland but it was rough. I can't tell whether this one will have any fantastical elements in it.
I can't tell, either. I might enjoy another straight historical from Garner, although the interweaving of time functions just as well as the fantastic in his books.
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When we were still living in Manchester I visited a lot of the places he writes about- including the Thursbitch valley: Scary story, scary place.
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Maybe it was just announced? I'd heard nothing.
When we were still living in Manchester I visited a lot of the places he writes about- including the Thursbitch valley: Scary story, scary place.
Do you have pictures of it?
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I'll have to dig around to see if I can find them.
Thursbitch
Re: Thursbitch
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*gazes, blubberily*
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There was a third degree of an LED-glaring streetlight directly over the beach and houses to either side; it put the lid on many normal date night activities by the sea.
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I had this experience in South Carolina and Hawaii. Skin-temperature water was disorienting. (Waves were great, though.)
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I learned to swim off Cape Elizabeth; I don't expect ocean to be anything but cold.
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Thank you! If it inspires you, feel free.
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P.
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I read it without having read its preceding books (I caught up on them later), but I did enjoy Boneland.
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Accidentally driving onto Deer Island sounds like an adventure (I once got lost south of Boston and had to do my best to avoid being sent to Cape Cod)--I'm glad you made it safely home. I assume you eventually reconnected with your phone.
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I knew he was alive because if he had died I would have heard and objected, but I had no idea he was still writing novels.
Accidentally driving onto Deer Island sounds like an adventure (I once got lost south of Boston and had to do my best to avoid being sent to Cape Cod)--I'm glad you made it safely home.
We had not planned our trip to include the harbor islands!
I assume you eventually reconnected with your phone.
I did!