I'll sing my hands out of the earth and call them to me

[sovay]

A copy of Mythic Delirium #20 has just arrived at the house. Technically it belongs to my mother, since the subscribers' copies went out before the contributors'. Nevertheless, I am going to steal it and read it, trout hearts by Neil Gaiman, hand-inked illustration, epic table of contents and all. My poem "Zeitgeber" is in there, too. I've been in sixteen issues of Mythic Delirium. I owe hekatombs to time_shark: not for taking the poems, but for providing somewhere so neat for them to go, all the roots and freewheeling the title implies. Here's to the next ten years.

"Madonna of the Cave" has been accepted by ericmarin for Lone Star Stories. It is sort of the poem about golems handful_ofdust prompted me to write, sort of pieces of other things, like Lilith. (Speaking of whom, both erzebet and tithenai inform me that the miniature book of "Postscripts from the Red Sea" will very soon be available. I have even seen photographic evidence. Watch this, er, parenthesis.)

J.G. Ballard. His memory for the strangest of blessings.

Comments

[sovay]

But "Man my parents are such JERKS and I hate this LIFE" is not something I fall into sympathy with.

I don't think we're meant to. It's very clear that Morris and Joanne Campbell are good parents—the issue is not whether they are going to change, but whether Helena is going to be able to work through her images of them.

I don't like the other world reduced to a mere psychological tool. I want it to be unambiguously real, and have psychological explanations, if they have to be offered, be ones for people who can't deal with the reality of the other world.

I interpreted it as real—it may have been created by Helena's drawings, but by now it has its own independent existence. Valentine has to come from somewhere.

Hope my negative remarks don't get you down.

Why? It's a movie I like; it's not one I wrote!

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Why? It's a movie I like; it's not one I wrote!

When I like something, I want others to like it in the same way--or certain others, at least. I'm not sure I'd fall into that "certain others" category for you, but you do, for me, for some things: If I were to tell you about something I liked that I thought you'd like, I'd be somewhat downcast if you didn't like it, though how downcast I'd be would depend on what you didn't like.

That reaction is an artifact of childhood, I suspect. In general, now, if I stop and think about it, I can curb it--after all, other people aren't clones of me, etc. etc. But I still have enough of that residual feeling to want, when I like someone, to react to something they like in a way that's similar to how they react.

I'm long winded today.

[sovay]

When I like something, I want others to like it in the same way--or certain others, at least.

Of course I would like you to like something I recommended to you. But I am not going to be offended on its behalf if you don't.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

I was more worried about causing disappointment than offense--but the thing is, I **liked** the movie. I liked it a lot. I just had reservations (as expressed in undue length above). But my overall reaction was positive. So why did I spend so long discussing negatives? I guess they needled at me. I liked it a whole lot and wanted not to be needled by those things.