My poems "Ariadne in Queens" and "A Vixen When She Went to School" are now available in the latest issue of The Cascadia Subduction Zone. The first was inspired by a comment of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asakiyume's after I watched The Big Combo (1955) and influenced by a fifth-century vase painting; the second is not the story I thought of writing after the Boston Lyric Opera's A Midsummer Night's Dream in 2011, but it is Hermia/Puck, so I regret nothing. The rest of the issue contains poetry by Deborah Davitt and Lesley Wheeler, flash fiction by Susana Vallejo translated by Lawrence Schimel, and reviews including an appreciation of Le Guin's "The Shobies' Story" by Julie Phillips. Pick a copy up!
Otherwise I have a medical procedure tomorrow and that's about the most I can say for today. Have some links.
1. The Daily Beast provides a thoughtful consideration of Stan Lee and his legacy. That said, I remain amused by the comment I saw yesterday on Facebook: "With all the fuss about Stan Lee, you'd think he invented dying," immediately footnoted by someone else in sotto voce lowercase, "jack kirby did it first".
2. I didn't know Robin Robertson had written a novel inspired by film noir. I mean, I'd have read it. I like how he writes about the ten movies he kept returning to. (Hume Cronyn is not in the photograph the Guardian chose to illustrate Brute Force (1947), though, whatever the caption says. That little guy in the glasses is—wait for it—Whit Bissell.)
3. Having just seen the very noir, very Ida Lupino-directed Outrage (1950), I strongly disagree with Kino Lorber's description of The Hitch-Hiker (1953) as "the only classic film noir directed by a woman"—I'd rather see Lupino referred to as the only female director of classic film noir, without making her individual movies slug it out for the title—but at least my library system has a copy of their DVD, meaning I won't have to resort to YouTube. I hope to report back soon.
Last night I watched Felix E. Feist's The Threat (1949) and Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat's I See a Dark Stranger (1946). I am not sure I'll write about either, but the former offered me the chance to describe Charles McGraw tospatch as looking like "God punched a rock just enough to give it cheekbones."
asakiyume's after I watched The Big Combo (1955) and influenced by a fifth-century vase painting; the second is not the story I thought of writing after the Boston Lyric Opera's A Midsummer Night's Dream in 2011, but it is Hermia/Puck, so I regret nothing. The rest of the issue contains poetry by Deborah Davitt and Lesley Wheeler, flash fiction by Susana Vallejo translated by Lawrence Schimel, and reviews including an appreciation of Le Guin's "The Shobies' Story" by Julie Phillips. Pick a copy up!Otherwise I have a medical procedure tomorrow and that's about the most I can say for today. Have some links.
1. The Daily Beast provides a thoughtful consideration of Stan Lee and his legacy. That said, I remain amused by the comment I saw yesterday on Facebook: "With all the fuss about Stan Lee, you'd think he invented dying," immediately footnoted by someone else in sotto voce lowercase, "jack kirby did it first".
2. I didn't know Robin Robertson had written a novel inspired by film noir. I mean, I'd have read it. I like how he writes about the ten movies he kept returning to. (Hume Cronyn is not in the photograph the Guardian chose to illustrate Brute Force (1947), though, whatever the caption says. That little guy in the glasses is—wait for it—Whit Bissell.)
3. Having just seen the very noir, very Ida Lupino-directed Outrage (1950), I strongly disagree with Kino Lorber's description of The Hitch-Hiker (1953) as "the only classic film noir directed by a woman"—I'd rather see Lupino referred to as the only female director of classic film noir, without making her individual movies slug it out for the title—but at least my library system has a copy of their DVD, meaning I won't have to resort to YouTube. I hope to report back soon.
Last night I watched Felix E. Feist's The Threat (1949) and Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat's I See a Dark Stranger (1946). I am not sure I'll write about either, but the former offered me the chance to describe Charles McGraw to
spatch as looking like "God punched a rock just enough to give it cheekbones."
