Barry Lyndon, eat your heart out.
2021-10-13
My poem "Every Night and All" is now online at Nightmare Magazine.
Most of the pertinent information is contained in the author's note, but I wouldn't have one of its lines without Jill Paton Walsh. I wrote the poem in October; in December, over the phone and a distance of eight states, I did sing someone down.
Most of the pertinent information is contained in the author's note, but I wouldn't have one of its lines without Jill Paton Walsh. I wrote the poem in October; in December, over the phone and a distance of eight states, I did sing someone down.
The really cool thing about tonight was discovering a literal garage band. I could hear them from the parking lot of the Walgreens where ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch was running an errand, although I couldn't see them on account of their being inside a garage; they seemed to be jamming their way through covers, of which we were able to identify Eddie Money's "Baby Hold On" and Queen and Bowie's "Under Pressure." We walked around the block afterward in order to verify their location and stood in the neighboring basketball court a moment to listen, at which I think we were seen because one of the musicians yelled, "Hey! People!" so we waved in an approving fashion and went home with our snacks and medical supplies.
The really uncool thing about tonight was our sink breaking in two places at once. Metal fatigue is real. We have wrapped the faucet with duct tape and placed a bucket under the sink in the cabinet we immediately cleaned out and disinfected, but it does not look like a problem we can fix ourselves—I am not convinced it is a problem that can be fixed so much as replaced—and the absolute last thing either of us wants even now is a total stranger in our space and it's just horrific timing, really. Assuming we receive an immediate plumber, of course. We have gone months in this apartment without a functional oven before. Whatever the timeline, I figure the law of inconvenience will hold sway.
Oh, and for the first time in more than a year and a half a stranger tried to chat me up while I was just existing on a sidewalk, which was not at all charming because he was not wearing a mask and I would have thought that my extremely noncommittal body language and short answers and constant reference to my husband who was just inside the door of the restaurant where we were picking up our dinner would have caused him to get the picture and wander off, but Oscar Shapeley is apparently as unaffected by a global pandemic as he ever was by the Depression. Please enjoy this only emotionally related picture of the demolition where our local auto body shop used to be.
spatch was running an errand, although I couldn't see them on account of their being inside a garage; they seemed to be jamming their way through covers, of which we were able to identify Eddie Money's "Baby Hold On" and Queen and Bowie's "Under Pressure." We walked around the block afterward in order to verify their location and stood in the neighboring basketball court a moment to listen, at which I think we were seen because one of the musicians yelled, "Hey! People!" so we waved in an approving fashion and went home with our snacks and medical supplies.The really uncool thing about tonight was our sink breaking in two places at once. Metal fatigue is real. We have wrapped the faucet with duct tape and placed a bucket under the sink in the cabinet we immediately cleaned out and disinfected, but it does not look like a problem we can fix ourselves—I am not convinced it is a problem that can be fixed so much as replaced—and the absolute last thing either of us wants even now is a total stranger in our space and it's just horrific timing, really. Assuming we receive an immediate plumber, of course. We have gone months in this apartment without a functional oven before. Whatever the timeline, I figure the law of inconvenience will hold sway.
Oh, and for the first time in more than a year and a half a stranger tried to chat me up while I was just existing on a sidewalk, which was not at all charming because he was not wearing a mask and I would have thought that my extremely noncommittal body language and short answers and constant reference to my husband who was just inside the door of the restaurant where we were picking up our dinner would have caused him to get the picture and wander off, but Oscar Shapeley is apparently as unaffected by a global pandemic as he ever was by the Depression. Please enjoy this only emotionally related picture of the demolition where our local auto body shop used to be.
