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But God only knows, I sold it for a lock of your hair
1. I got home today to find two really neat things in the mail: a card which Dean sent from Maine and my contributor's copy of Mythic Delirium #26. The latter contains my poem "Scythe-Walk," which I wrote for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
teenybuffalo and the afternoon she carried a scythe home from a rummage sale on her shoulder. It also contains her poem "The Sisters," which she wrote for me and her rivers and the ocean. The convergence was neither of our doing and it makes me very happy. (My other favorites from the issue are Rose Lemberg's "The Journeyman in Kestai" and Erik Amundsen's "Under the Asphodel," but one of these is crow-epic and the other a temptation to descend, so please look surprised.) The former is illustrated with a sketch of sea-view. Good by me.
2. Courtesy ofderspatchel, I have a copy of David Macaulay's Great Moments in Architecture (1978). It's the direct precursor to Motel of the Mysteries (1979), which is one of the greatest books about archaeology ever written; if I had to play the comparison game, I'd say the contents resemble a freakish three-way collaboration between Edward Gorey, Chris Van Allsburg, and Charles Addams, although the back-cover text rather beautifully describes them as "the daydreams of a pixilated Piranesi." The captions make half of them. "This plate was formerly believed to represent the meeting of English and Metric."
3. I scalded some of the fingers on my left hand rather badly with hot tea on Wednesday; I went out to dinner that night holding them constantly against my water glass, having wrapped my hand in a bag of frozen broccoli as soon as I got off the bus at Rob's. (Also courtesy: Fuck You, Broccoli. I am actually quite fond of artichokes, but anything with phenylthiocarbamide can fend for itself.) They're healing, but it looks as though the forefinger is going to scar. I need a better cover story. "Very hot ginger tea" just has no experimental cachet at all.
4. I am very charmed by this installment of Wondermark.
5. Did I remember to link the record-breaking Rube Goldberg machine?
I am going to bed. Nobody else had better get sick this week. That includes me.
teenybuffalo and the afternoon she carried a scythe home from a rummage sale on her shoulder. It also contains her poem "The Sisters," which she wrote for me and her rivers and the ocean. The convergence was neither of our doing and it makes me very happy. (My other favorites from the issue are Rose Lemberg's "The Journeyman in Kestai" and Erik Amundsen's "Under the Asphodel," but one of these is crow-epic and the other a temptation to descend, so please look surprised.) The former is illustrated with a sketch of sea-view. Good by me.2. Courtesy of
derspatchel, I have a copy of David Macaulay's Great Moments in Architecture (1978). It's the direct precursor to Motel of the Mysteries (1979), which is one of the greatest books about archaeology ever written; if I had to play the comparison game, I'd say the contents resemble a freakish three-way collaboration between Edward Gorey, Chris Van Allsburg, and Charles Addams, although the back-cover text rather beautifully describes them as "the daydreams of a pixilated Piranesi." The captions make half of them. "This plate was formerly believed to represent the meeting of English and Metric."3. I scalded some of the fingers on my left hand rather badly with hot tea on Wednesday; I went out to dinner that night holding them constantly against my water glass, having wrapped my hand in a bag of frozen broccoli as soon as I got off the bus at Rob's. (Also courtesy: Fuck You, Broccoli. I am actually quite fond of artichokes, but anything with phenylthiocarbamide can fend for itself.) They're healing, but it looks as though the forefinger is going to scar. I need a better cover story. "Very hot ginger tea" just has no experimental cachet at all.
4. I am very charmed by this installment of Wondermark.
5. Did I remember to link the record-breaking Rube Goldberg machine?
I am going to bed. Nobody else had better get sick this week. That includes me.
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I'd forgotten Macaulay had a wicked sense of humor. I don't remember people doing pratfalls off Cathedral, anyway.
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There are little things in the background that show humor: in Cathedral, for ex, in the progress of the vaulting for the nave, there's a birdnest that over a couple pictures is being built, has bird brooding, has hatchlings being fed, and so on. It isn't till around, oh, Underground that the wicked wackies start coming out. And of course Unbuilding is all about the wicked.
---L.