sovay | I hear you polishing your teeth sometimes

The dentist observed that my front teeth were very sharply angled cutting surfaces, so she filled them in with with composite to a less wedgelike shape that should provide reinforcement against the pressure and torque of biting into things—although I have been cautioned against very hard breads—and prevent any further nectarine-esque disasters. I keep running my tongue over the new edges, which are much duller than I'm used to. I feel oddly defenseless against my natural predators.

I went back to the Harvard Book Store for Aaron Frisch and Gary Kelley's Dark Fiddler (2008), because for God's sake it's a children's picture book about Paganini. There has to be somebody I can warp at an early age with it. I returned home to the limited edition of Caitlín R. Kiernan's The Ammonite Violin & Others, with accompanying chapbook of "Sanderlings" and gorgeous jacket and endpapers by Richard Kirk. For obvious reasons, this is so much better than dentistry.

yhlee set me a music meme right before Readercon; I never posted the results. Have five songs that begin with the letter L. Tell me if you'd like a letter.

My Favorite, "L = P"

Alone in your dorm, you pull the fire alarm
You're scared of the words that you might write
If you stay in again tonight

Elysian Fields, "Lady in the Lake"

But it doesn't matter anyway
I'm on the wrong side of the water

PJ Harvey, "Liverpool Tide"

Shipwrecks above Liverpool's tide
We walk alone against the sky

Less Than Jake, "Look What Happened"

And I swear it's the last time
And I swear it's my last try
And we'll walk in circles around this whole block
Walk on the cracks of the same old sidewalks
And we'll talk about leaving town
And we'll talk about leaving

The Secret History, "Love Theme (From the World That Never Was)"

I gave my life to Christ at a discount price
'Cause it was broken

I cannot understand why Peter Greenaway never filmed Angela Carter.

Rosa is winning. He is sending his music to Hollywood producers who believe the public will never tire of the Western. Who believe that guns and deserts, cow-boys, Indians and ranchers are the new and permanent mythology. Silenus is the whisky priest and Hercules is the rancher's saviour. Venus is the saloon vamp, Juno, the cow-boy's wife. Jupiter with a tin star is the good sheriff and Pluto, with the blood-stained whip, is the bad. All are settled on Mount Hollywood instead of Mount Olympus, where Crassus and Midas are Gods too, dealing the money, fingering the gold. Rosa is truly embarked on a lucrative career, writing music scores for assembly-line westerns. Does he think himself to be the Apollo or the Orpheus or the Marsyas of Mount Hollywood music?
—Peter Greenaway, Rosa (1993)

I hear you polishing your teeth sometimes

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