The sun is rising, my silver-seeker
To welcome in the New Year, I blew out ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch's phone with the conch. Almost immediately, my poem "The Ghost Summer" was accepted by Weird Fiction Quarterly. Its title came from the summer I wrote it at the end of. I should like to regard it as a hopeful sign.
As we were driving home, in between ordinary late-night fare like Eux Autres' "Queen Turner" (2010) and Happy Birthday's "Too Shy" (2010), WHRB busted out with the Irish Rovers' "Drunken Sailor" (2012), which we greeted with great confusion and joy. Guesses at what we were listening to at the time ranged from "an encore by the Chieftains?" to "The Robert Newton Memorial Band?"
Since I did in fact blurb Jeannelle M. Ferreira's Bold Privateer (2024), I should tell people that it can be obtained either as e-book or audio and it has a lovely cover, like a crumpled silk of the sea.
Not being under such a rock in this last month that I missed the death of Jimmy Carter, I still hate that he did not get to die into the future he wanted, especially since as far as I can tell he did almost nothing but work for it, long after it was expected of him, out on his own branch of history that too much of the rest did not follow.
As a kind of satyr play to the spook show of Exit (2012), I followed one of its supporting actors into The Sesquipedalianist (2015). It is a five-minute joke of a film, but since it rests its punch line on a famously gratuitous 45-letter word which turned up on the weekly vocabulary sheet in sixth grade just for the entertainment value, it gets a pass from me.
Watching Jimmy Stewart come force ten, zero to Lucia di Lammermoor unglued in After the Thin Man (1936) makes an illuminating preview to his later work with Capra, Mann, Hitchcock, Aldrich, and is absolutely the most amazing part of the film.
Rabbit, rabbit. May there be that in this year to love.
spatch's phone with the conch. Almost immediately, my poem "The Ghost Summer" was accepted by Weird Fiction Quarterly. Its title came from the summer I wrote it at the end of. I should like to regard it as a hopeful sign.As we were driving home, in between ordinary late-night fare like Eux Autres' "Queen Turner" (2010) and Happy Birthday's "Too Shy" (2010), WHRB busted out with the Irish Rovers' "Drunken Sailor" (2012), which we greeted with great confusion and joy. Guesses at what we were listening to at the time ranged from "an encore by the Chieftains?" to "The Robert Newton Memorial Band?"
Since I did in fact blurb Jeannelle M. Ferreira's Bold Privateer (2024), I should tell people that it can be obtained either as e-book or audio and it has a lovely cover, like a crumpled silk of the sea.
Not being under such a rock in this last month that I missed the death of Jimmy Carter, I still hate that he did not get to die into the future he wanted, especially since as far as I can tell he did almost nothing but work for it, long after it was expected of him, out on his own branch of history that too much of the rest did not follow.
As a kind of satyr play to the spook show of Exit (2012), I followed one of its supporting actors into The Sesquipedalianist (2015). It is a five-minute joke of a film, but since it rests its punch line on a famously gratuitous 45-letter word which turned up on the weekly vocabulary sheet in sixth grade just for the entertainment value, it gets a pass from me.
Watching Jimmy Stewart come force ten, zero to Lucia di Lammermoor unglued in After the Thin Man (1936) makes an illuminating preview to his later work with Capra, Mann, Hitchcock, Aldrich, and is absolutely the most amazing part of the film.
Rabbit, rabbit. May there be that in this year to love.