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Through hollow lands and hilly lands
I think this year's Halloween party was a success. There was mulled cider and pomegranates and cranberry cake, the ritual evisceration and inflammation of the sacrificial gourds, and a mix of costumed attendance and not, so that my brother and his fiancée were a pair of vampires (this year, with professional teeth: I watched their smiles confuse pumpkin-buyers at Wilson Farms this afternoon), ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fleurdelis28 lurked academically as the Raccoon of Furtiveness (with her black-framed glasses and dreamcatcher), lignota called from Alewife a nereid in sea-scrolled blue (white-veiled, braided with shells and coral), and eredien was tamago sushi (with a stacked headdress of pillows, because she is just that awesome); lesser_celery as his childhood namesake pumpkin, nineweaving with the mask and broad hat of one of her guisers, and Eric showed up as a Red Sox fan, which how exactly makes this night different from all other nights? Two friends of the family came, as themselves with beer; a Mithraic friend from Brandeis whom I see far too infrequently unexpectedly turned up; the first-time pumpkin carved by shmeislin's friend whose livejournal handle I do not yet know was a fern-light stunner. (I dressed as a student from the Rijksuniversiteit in Ostia Naye, which exists only in "The Mirror of Venus" and the ongoing novella. It provided a good excuse for the eighteenth-century shirt and the futhark scarf.) The conversation was of excellent caliber. There should be photographs, tomorrow. The rain on the street sounds like the hush of waves.
fleurdelis28 lurked academically as the Raccoon of Furtiveness (with her black-framed glasses and dreamcatcher), lignota called from Alewife a nereid in sea-scrolled blue (white-veiled, braided with shells and coral), and eredien was tamago sushi (with a stacked headdress of pillows, because she is just that awesome); lesser_celery as his childhood namesake pumpkin, nineweaving with the mask and broad hat of one of her guisers, and Eric showed up as a Red Sox fan, which how exactly makes this night different from all other nights? Two friends of the family came, as themselves with beer; a Mithraic friend from Brandeis whom I see far too infrequently unexpectedly turned up; the first-time pumpkin carved by shmeislin's friend whose livejournal handle I do not yet know was a fern-light stunner. (I dressed as a student from the Rijksuniversiteit in Ostia Naye, which exists only in "The Mirror of Venus" and the ongoing novella. It provided a good excuse for the eighteenth-century shirt and the futhark scarf.) The conversation was of excellent caliber. There should be photographs, tomorrow. The rain on the street sounds like the hush of waves.
no subject
"The Mirror of Venus" is as yet uncollected; it was published in
Thanks!