Rabbit, rabbit. It is now my birthday month.
This morning was appalling; I would not wish it on the start of any month. Very tired, very stressed, very cold and very rainy, and I woke from one of the worst nightmares I can remember in years. Fortunately, some things got better.
1. Just before dinner, the mail brought my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #52. Look at that number. It's like a Platonic year of alienation. This latest is the alternative issue and it offers a splendid array of divergences, including poems by
ashlyme,
hawkwing_lb, and
ajodasso as well as fiction by
asakiyume and equally terrific work by people who I don't know on LJ, like Finn Clarke and Patricia Russo. My short story "Like Milkweed" was inspired by something Asakiyume said while discussing burdock; it is as much about monarch butterflies as it is science fiction. I have also a poem in the issue, "The Antiquities of Herculaneum"; that one is the direct result of reading a disaster movie review and thinking the dead of Vesuvius deserved better. Written mostly to Talking Heads' "Sax and Violins," I don't know why. Pick up a copy! I find the black-and-white cover shot of mushrooms extraordinarily beautiful.
2. The Park Street cockroach lives! I saw it this morning as I came back from my dentist's appointment and other downtown errands; it was skittering healthily around the stairs, feelers twangling, quite unsquashed. I felt an unexpected rush of affection and reassurance. Like the ravens at the Tower of London. Boston shall not fall this week.
3. I am now reading poetry submissions for Strange Horizons for the months of October and November. Send me all the different voices you've got.
I must go make sure the latest adorable thing the cats have done was not also destructive.
P.S. I love everything about nudibranchs.
P.P.S.
sairaali brought me honey from Germany! Definitely better.
This morning was appalling; I would not wish it on the start of any month. Very tired, very stressed, very cold and very rainy, and I woke from one of the worst nightmares I can remember in years. Fortunately, some things got better.
1. Just before dinner, the mail brought my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #52. Look at that number. It's like a Platonic year of alienation. This latest is the alternative issue and it offers a splendid array of divergences, including poems by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
2. The Park Street cockroach lives! I saw it this morning as I came back from my dentist's appointment and other downtown errands; it was skittering healthily around the stairs, feelers twangling, quite unsquashed. I felt an unexpected rush of affection and reassurance. Like the ravens at the Tower of London. Boston shall not fall this week.
3. I am now reading poetry submissions for Strange Horizons for the months of October and November. Send me all the different voices you've got.
I must go make sure the latest adorable thing the cats have done was not also destructive.
P.S. I love everything about nudibranchs.
P.P.S.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)