And ghosts walk in the fire of angels

So this afternoon I met rushthatspeaks and jinian at Rodney's in Central Square and then we met ajodasso and rinue at Toscanini's and then we shot B-roll for a science fiction film. I have never been part of even a microbudget film before. We dressed for the future out of our own clothes, some scarves and props. derspatchel pointed us toward MIT's Simmons Hall. Apparently the correct term is not extras, it's background, and if I turn up for two seconds as background in an offworld montage, I will consider this an afternoon entirely well spent. If I don't turn up for two seconds as background in an offworld montage, I will consider it an afternoon entirely well spent. It was like silent film. It was a lot of fun.

And then I stopped off at Blue Shirt Café in Davis Square and helped Rob sort pages. There was an exciting moment when I realized I'd left my four-dollar record of Songs by Tom Lehrer (1953) in Rush's car. It was retrieved and presented to its proper owner. I hung on to the play by Peter Ustinov. (The ninety-four-cent shelf at Rodney's is no slouch. I only left Christopher Fry's The Dark Is Light Enough (1954) because I couldn't remember if I already owned it.)

And then I got home to discover that my poem "In the Firebird Museum" is now online at Stone Telling, with a haunting illustration by Yuri Dojc. This is the one I wrote the same night as my poem currently in inkscrawl: I think it was meant at the time for rose_lemberg, but it found its way to her in the end. This magazine gets better with every issue.

(Discovered earlier, but deserving of post: Jeff VanderMeer writes about Beyond Binary and interviews britmandelo.)

Today, in short: pretty damn fine.