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I gave my life to Christ at a discount price 'cause it was broken
The experimental marzipan-lingonberry cake went over well—at least, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sen_no_ongaku and sigerson seemed to want to keep it, by which I count the experiment a success and the two of them pretty awesome test subjects. I went over for dinner in the evening; they had made salad and a variant on quiche lorraine and I had the chance to talk to them outside of Tea for the first time in too many months. I explained Tiny Wittgenstein. They told me about Rinde Eckert. I repeated my disbelief at the way this year has gone so far, about which I am not complaining. Julian waved me goodnight.
On the way back from Allston, the man sitting next to me on the bus asked if the book I was reading was any good. I said it was, because it was my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #47, which arrived in the mail just in time for me to take it on another bus this afternoon along with my laptop and the cake. It contains two of my poems, "Reiselied" and "The Hero's Journey." They were written a few days apart in September; the first was a late-night takeoff from a comment byasakiyume ("I once saw a guy selling poetry by the train station") and the second a desperately sleep-deprived piece of depression in the voice of Dido in the underworld, Aeneid 6.445–474. It's a strong issue. Story-wise, I was especially struck by Daniel Kaysen's "The Glass Presence," Francesca Forrest's "Here at the End of All Things," and Mike Allen's "Twa Sisters"; for poetry, Jeff Jeppeson nails the iconography of the plague doctor in "Dr. Crow" and I don't care that she wrote it in partial response to "The Clock House," I am going to rave about Jeannelle Ferreira's "Universal Engines (for Christopher Morcom)," because it is a beautiful continuation of ghost-lives and the mechanics of spirit and love.
Todaylesser_celery and I are supposed to finish the second season of Millennium. I'll let you know if anything entertaining happens to my brain.
sen_no_ongaku and sigerson seemed to want to keep it, by which I count the experiment a success and the two of them pretty awesome test subjects. I went over for dinner in the evening; they had made salad and a variant on quiche lorraine and I had the chance to talk to them outside of Tea for the first time in too many months. I explained Tiny Wittgenstein. They told me about Rinde Eckert. I repeated my disbelief at the way this year has gone so far, about which I am not complaining. Julian waved me goodnight.On the way back from Allston, the man sitting next to me on the bus asked if the book I was reading was any good. I said it was, because it was my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #47, which arrived in the mail just in time for me to take it on another bus this afternoon along with my laptop and the cake. It contains two of my poems, "Reiselied" and "The Hero's Journey." They were written a few days apart in September; the first was a late-night takeoff from a comment by
asakiyume ("I once saw a guy selling poetry by the train station") and the second a desperately sleep-deprived piece of depression in the voice of Dido in the underworld, Aeneid 6.445–474. It's a strong issue. Story-wise, I was especially struck by Daniel Kaysen's "The Glass Presence," Francesca Forrest's "Here at the End of All Things," and Mike Allen's "Twa Sisters"; for poetry, Jeff Jeppeson nails the iconography of the plague doctor in "Dr. Crow" and I don't care that she wrote it in partial response to "The Clock House," I am going to rave about Jeannelle Ferreira's "Universal Engines (for Christopher Morcom)," because it is a beautiful continuation of ghost-lives and the mechanics of spirit and love.Today
lesser_celery and I are supposed to finish the second season of Millennium. I'll let you know if anything entertaining happens to my brain.
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Enjoy (??) Millennium! I hope nothing happens to your brain!
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I'm thinking I should get extra copies of Not One of Us, so I could hand them out to strangers--like your man on the bus.
marzipan and lingonberries... mmmm!
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Do you mind strangers on the bus asking about whatever you're reading?
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