cucumberseed drew me a haruspex:

His
Autumn War is an extraordinary world.
I spent a portion of this afternoon in Harvard Square with
lesser_celery, mostly looking at books neither of us could afford to buy. We did not talk nearly as much as I would have liked (for which I blame the fact that I disappeared first into A.S. Byatt's
The Matisse Stories (1993) and then a monograph on Miyazaki's
Spirited Away), but at least it was in person rather than pixels. We conversed about the important things, like swine flu and unnatural acts. I should still have brought a camera. He's like spirit photography.
Afterward, I took the bus home. Somewhere between Porter Square and Route 16, two girls got on; I thought at first that one of them had a tattoo above the collar of her T-shirt, but it was a port-wine birthmark that began on her chin and spilled down the left side of her throat where it vanished under the green-and-white cotton. Maybe I still have
time_shark and
Goblin Fruit on the brain, but I looked at her and thought of maenads.
Will you drink out of the blood, the white wine and the red? I don't know if it's fair to steal her face for a story. She was beautiful.
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I remember riding that bus daily, for a short period of time when I was staying with my grandmother and taking a summer course.
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I would dedicate to her unknown. Another story for the queue . . .
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Preach it.
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I just spent five very confused minutes trying to figure out whether
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Fascinating. Sorry about that? No,
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Oh well. We adapt. Thanks for pointing this out.
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I still think your world may be awesome enough the title doesn't need changing. It's so deeply identified with everything that happens in the Provinces.
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I know of at least two books coming out soon entitled Chasing the Dragon. All the good titles and most of the bad ones have been taken. Don't sweat too much about it.
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Let's hear it for memes!
Tell it!
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I reckon it's fair. Writers steal all other things and bodge them together, do we not?
And I'd love to read that story.
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Mining Disaster
(And I never commented here on the strange shifting of contexts I experienced as I recognized the post title: In the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia / Down in the dark of the Cumberland mine / There's blood on the coal and the miners lie ... .)
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Yes. I heard Peggy Seeger sing it live when I was in college and it has haunted me ever since.