I left out the last eight verses

Seriously, there should be an emoticon for not actually dead—I'm not, even if this inbox full of unanswered e-mail says otherwise. I got a cold. I dropped off the map. Mostly I've been self-medicating with various books and Flanders and Swann,¹ although last week Eric and I watched Norwegian Insomnia (1997) and this Wednesday Viking Zen showed me The Secret of Kells (2009).

In any case, the mail just brought me two awesome things: Louise Brooks' Lulu in Hollywood (1982), which I suspect of being a birthday present from my best cousins ever,² and my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #44, in which can be found my poem "In the Earth in Those Days." It is about Biblical selkies; asakiyume introduced me to the folklore. Appropriately, it appears in the same issue as Jeannelle Ferreira's "The Seal Wife," also Loren Rhoads' "Catalyst," Patricia Russo's "With the Blue Heart People," and other fine pieces of autumn and change. Go forth and pick up a copy of your own. I am going to read Louise Brooks until I have to leave for a rehearsal. Wish me luck.

1. Probably to no one's surprise but my own, I find that I consider Donald Swann awesome: I am already inclined to respect an ostensible straight man who goes off with Greek tongue-twisters and can sing about hippopotami in Russian even before he decides that going mainstream from light comedy means setting Tolkien to music and writing an opera of Perelandra. I don't suppose anyone has his recording of Sydney Carter's "Lord of the Dance"?

2. Edit: Confirmed. Best cousins ever.