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You woke up screaming aloud a prayer from your secret god
John Benson has posted the final table of contents for Not One of Us #34 over at his livejournal, and it is a doozy. The theme is numinous. The work is . . . well, see for yourself.
On the fiction side, you'll find the first published stories of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hans_the_bold and rushthatspeaks, as well as work by the prolific and often-honored Patricia Russo, the far too infrequently seen Patricia J. Esposito, filmmaker Mark Steensland, and finally my own (headache of a) story "Drink Down." Not to mention poetry by SFPA President Mike Allen, Eric Marin of Lone Star Stories and MultiVerse fame, the variously-nominated Karen R. Porter, Lee Clark Zumpe, Kristine Ong Muslim, Kent Kruse, and Jennifer Gomoll; and my first-ever collaboration, Mike Allen's brainchild "Aranea," appears here as well. Art by H.E. Fassl, Augie Wiedemann, Teresa Tunaley, and Russell Dickerson.
(That was some linkdump.)
So, go pick up yourself a subscription, or at least a couple of single issues. Send work: the guidelines are clear. And if you have a question, bother John, not me. But mostly, read the magazine. There is nothing exactly like Not One of Us out there, in the professional or semiprofessional or published-out-of-the-basement world, and that's as it should be. We're all aliens at some level. But you know how it is . . .
On the fiction side, you'll find the first published stories of
hans_the_bold and rushthatspeaks, as well as work by the prolific and often-honored Patricia Russo, the far too infrequently seen Patricia J. Esposito, filmmaker Mark Steensland, and finally my own (headache of a) story "Drink Down." Not to mention poetry by SFPA President Mike Allen, Eric Marin of Lone Star Stories and MultiVerse fame, the variously-nominated Karen R. Porter, Lee Clark Zumpe, Kristine Ong Muslim, Kent Kruse, and Jennifer Gomoll; and my first-ever collaboration, Mike Allen's brainchild "Aranea," appears here as well. Art by H.E. Fassl, Augie Wiedemann, Teresa Tunaley, and Russell Dickerson.(That was some linkdump.)
So, go pick up yourself a subscription, or at least a couple of single issues. Send work: the guidelines are clear. And if you have a question, bother John, not me. But mostly, read the magazine. There is nothing exactly like Not One of Us out there, in the professional or semiprofessional or published-out-of-the-basement world, and that's as it should be. We're all aliens at some level. But you know how it is . . .
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That post title fucking rocks!
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You come out at night, that's when the energy comes
And the dark side's light, and the vampires roam
You strut your rasta wear and your suicide poem
And a cross from a faith that died before Jesus came
You're building a mystery
You live in a church where you sleep with voodoo dolls
And you won't give up the search for the ghosts in the hall
You wear sandals in the snow and a smile that won't wash away
Can you look out the window without your shadow getting in the way?
Oh, you're so beautiful, with an edge and a charm
And so careful when I'm in your arms
'Cause you're working, building a mystery
Holding on and holding in
Yeah, you're working, building a mystery
And choosing so carefully
You woke up screaming aloud a prayer from your secret god
And you feed off our fears and hold back your tears
You give us a tantrum and a know-it-all grin
Just when we need one, when the evening's thin
Oh, you're a beautiful, a beautiful fucked-up man
Setting up your razor-wire shrine
'Cause you're working, building a mystery
Holding on and holding in
Yeah, you're working, building a mystery
And choosing so carefully . . .
You're building a mystery
I first heard the song my senior year of high school, as performed by an all-female student a cappella group. Even so, it pretty much went straight into my box of archetypes, and that's always been one of my favorite lines.
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I might've heard it before, but I don't think I've ever read or understood the lyrics.
Hey, hoarding quotes and choosing them at the right time is an art, too, and reading this one startled me in just the right way.
What was it like, a cappella? I could see it being either really haunting, or completely shoddy next to Sarah's bright voice.