A sum of parts never whole
I slept almost nine hours last night, which was especially nice because the previous night I had slept less than one. The last few days have consisted heavily of appointments and running around, although for fun I have been cooking. This afternoon
spatch and I continued our wanderings of the Great Meadows, which are still full of cattails and loosestrife and birches but also ruts of stiff black mud where there should be water lilies; the boardwalk runs over billows of dry earth. My mother was describing to me a radio program she had heard about global warming and peat bogs, which led me to regret that Seamus Heaney was not still alive to record the reactions of his Tollund Man.
I am very glad to see Emeric Pressburger's The Glass Pearls (1966) getting even more of the love it deserves. I hope the new introduction talks about the hauntology.
After discovering it on a previous walk, I have picked up the small battered mass-market paperback of E. M. Forster's Maurice (1971) from the Little Free Library nearest my parents' house, not because I don't already own the novel or because this edition is in especially good condition, but as far as I can tell it is the first paperback printing from 1973 and I think it's rather neat. The cover art is no James Wilby.
"Lucan in Averno" has generated spectacular fanart from the creator of a webcomic I have been seeing around for years. Drawn on the darkness, garroted in the laurels he bleeds. I love it.
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I am very glad to see Emeric Pressburger's The Glass Pearls (1966) getting even more of the love it deserves. I hope the new introduction talks about the hauntology.
After discovering it on a previous walk, I have picked up the small battered mass-market paperback of E. M. Forster's Maurice (1971) from the Little Free Library nearest my parents' house, not because I don't already own the novel or because this edition is in especially good condition, but as far as I can tell it is the first paperback printing from 1973 and I think it's rather neat. The cover art is no James Wilby.
"Lucan in Averno" has generated spectacular fanart from the creator of a webcomic I have been seeing around for years. Drawn on the darkness, garroted in the laurels he bleeds. I love it.
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Your poetry has the kind of mass to it that can bear fanart. :)
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I had dreams I can't remember except that I don't believe they were nightmares, which was also nice!
Your poetry has the kind of mass to it that can bear fanart.
Thank you.
*hugs*
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ahahahaha 'heft', I meant 'heft' when I put 'mass'. I suppose the metaphor came through either way.
hugs you back I am always delighted to come to know a poet.
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It did! The image of gravitation. It doesn't get pulled off true.
*hugs*
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I wish we could have had more novels from him. Both of the ones we have are masterpieces.
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I lit up at the headline.
I wish we could have had more novels from him. Both of the ones we have are masterpieces.
I still need to find Killing a Mouse on Sunday. I've never once seen it in a used book store. Your description of it remains vivid for me.
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If for your birthday, you win the lottery?
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You're the best.
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That fanart is magnificent. *reblogged*
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Thank you! It took me a little longer, but I slept last night as well.
That fanart is magnificent.
I'm trying to figure out if it would be creepy to offer to buy a print of it from the artist or something.
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That's cool re: the Maurice paperback! The first copy I had was a battered paperback with the 1987 movie poster on the cover.
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I enjoyed it!
That's cool re: the Maurice paperback! The first copy I had was a battered paperback with the 1987 movie poster on the cover.
Oh, nice! My copy in storage doesn't have much in the way of cover art: I think there's some ornamentation and a couple of male figures in silhouette, which is, you know, technically accurate but not very exciting. It was the copy in which I first read the book, though, so I remain emotionally attached to it.
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Thank you. It's amazing to me.
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I really love it!
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I have actually written to the artist to see if I can obtain a print and am now waiting in hope that I have not weirded them out.
The poem itself is beyond my capacity in the same ways I'm sure what I can do is sometimes beyond the people around me, if that makes sense; you have a set of references I entirely lack.
It makes sense; I hope it's not a bad thing.