Throwing down roots in my own time
The one silver lining of the slow-motion apocalypse of the supply chain is that having each given the other IOUs for our respective birthdays, ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks and I were able to exchange birthday presents this evening. I had ordered him a dress of purple dragons from Princess Awesome that arrived three months late thanks in part to a typhoon; he had gotten me Sean Sherman and Beth Dooley's The Sioux Chef's Indigenous Kitchen (2017). We read through the latter hungrily. I will need to find a local source of juniper. Then he showed me Patrick McHale's Over the Garden Wall (2014), which I firmly believe should be an October tradition. Within the first few episodes, I was comparing its autumn country to Ray Bradbury and Greer Gilman; by the end of it I would add Nathaniel Hawthorne, H.P. Lovecraft, and Carl Sandburg, but a catalogue of pastiche misses the point that it while it is full of echoes and allusions and hat-tips, it is also very much its own fairy tale and as successful a new one as I have seen in ages. It is funny and eerie and awkward and poignant and intensely liminal. The time-slipped specifically New England flavor was particularly attractive to me. Plus I knew both of the opera singers in the cast, whom I hadn't been expecting at all. I would like to get hold of the soundtrack. The animation would be satisfying just to stare at, but the story seems to have rung hard with me and I am all right with that. In some ways I have had so little of this month.
rushthatspeaks and I were able to exchange birthday presents this evening. I had ordered him a dress of purple dragons from Princess Awesome that arrived three months late thanks in part to a typhoon; he had gotten me Sean Sherman and Beth Dooley's The Sioux Chef's Indigenous Kitchen (2017). We read through the latter hungrily. I will need to find a local source of juniper. Then he showed me Patrick McHale's Over the Garden Wall (2014), which I firmly believe should be an October tradition. Within the first few episodes, I was comparing its autumn country to Ray Bradbury and Greer Gilman; by the end of it I would add Nathaniel Hawthorne, H.P. Lovecraft, and Carl Sandburg, but a catalogue of pastiche misses the point that it while it is full of echoes and allusions and hat-tips, it is also very much its own fairy tale and as successful a new one as I have seen in ages. It is funny and eerie and awkward and poignant and intensely liminal. The time-slipped specifically New England flavor was particularly attractive to me. Plus I knew both of the opera singers in the cast, whom I hadn't been expecting at all. I would like to get hold of the soundtrack. The animation would be satisfying just to stare at, but the story seems to have rung hard with me and I am all right with that. In some ways I have had so little of this month.
no subject
Oooh, besides juniper, I see "venison, duck, blueberries, sage, amaranth, and abundant wildflowers."
It is funny and eerie and awkward and poignant and intensely liminal.
This sounds amazing. I've just put it on my watchlist. And gosh, I'm thrilled to be in that autumnal company.
Happy Rebirthdays!
*hugs*
Nine
no subject
I thought so as soon as I saw it announced! Which was back in the spring. I understand the terrifying number the pandemic is doing on supply and distribution, but I still feel the typhoon was egregious.
Oooh, besides juniper, I see "venison, duck, blueberries, sage, amaranth, and abundant wildflowers."
This sounds amazing. I've just put it on my watchlist. And gosh, I'm thrilled to be in that autumnal company.
I hope you enjoy it! It is profoundly October.
Happy Rebirthdays!
Thank you!