And I'll be kissing you in the boneyard
Meanwhile, I got home from singing and running erands to discover, in among the snail-mail, my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #41, whose table of contents is a thing of great beauty. Stories by Patricia Russo and Erik Amundsen, poems by Gemma Files, Francesca Forrest, Elizabeth Bear, David Kopaska-Merkel and Kendall Evans, and that doesn't include the other half of the magazine. This issue's theme is morbidity and mortality, so those of you who are subscribers may consider it your printed Tenebrae. Those of you who are not subscribers, why not? My poems "Anon" and "Cryptogamy" may also be found therein.
In short, I am calling this week a success. Monday, I spent half the day at the Boston Museum of Science, acquired a DVD of Danton (1983, Andrzej Wajda) with a gift certificate Eric gave me for St. Swithin's Day, and found out my name now shows up in Dutch astronomical journals. Tuesday, I cooked mussels with coconut milk and lemon grass; Wednesday, I distracted Eric from Readercon and said hello to Eddy, who is visiting from Santa Cruz. Thursday,
This whole not sucking out loud thing, I could get used to it.

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For one thing, it would be nice to see more of you. But mostly, you should be happy and well and writing yourself green in the fingers.
Nine
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I like most of my stars. I just want them in their proper configurations. Thank you.
But mostly, you should be happy and well and writing yourself green in the fingers.
From you, that sounds like something sheela-na-gig.
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Heh. No; Wojciech Pszoniak's Robespierre spends a certain amount of his screentime in the kind of white sweat I can sympathize with, even if I would personally avoid the man like the black death. I do recommend the rest of the film, though.
Though obviously I also found it fascinating because I'd read Danton's Death quite a bit by the time I was--twelve, or something, so my compare-and-contrast impulse was on high.
I have never read Danton's Death. Which is embarrassing, because I have read and/or heard at least three versions of Woyzeck, including the opera by Berg and Tom Waits' Blood Money. I kind of imprinted on Camille Desmoulins in Tanith Lee's The Gods Are Thirsty (1996) in grad school . . .
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Yeah, I love The Gods Are Thirsty. Though it always makes me want to write A/U threesome fic, and derail the Terror through hot OT3 sex.
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(Patrice Chéreau is rather fine as him, too.)
Though it always makes me want to write A/U threesome fic, and derail the Terror through hot OT3 sex.
*ksnerk*
. . . so what's stopping you?
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Your name is in a Dutch astronomical journal?
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Understood! For selfish as well as altruistic reasons, may that be soon!
(Though if that means you will take longer to finish that story I want to read, is it fair to wish you to be slightly less employed? Alas.)
Your name is in a Dutch astronomical journal?
Online, anyway.
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I'm in the glass and marble atrium of the library right now, myself. Will probably be heading shortly for the public library to see if I can get a look at some of their non-circulating sources. Am coughing less. Hopefully all of our stars are in better positions.
Am looking forward to reading your further thoughts on Coriolanus.
Congratulations on the recent publications. And where/what were you singing, if I might ask?
I hope your uncle, you, and all your family, have a lovely visit.
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Thank you!
And where/what were you singing, if I might ask?
Just a voice lesson; working on "Dove sono" from Le nozze di Figaro. It went very well, though.
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Most welcome!
Just a voice lesson; working on "Dove sono" from Le nozze di Figaro. It went very well, though.
Excellent. I'm glad that you're singing actively. (I'm not much, these days, I'm afraid.)