From Long to Coney Island
How could I forget Garak? Collectible figurine thereof. We stopped in briefly at Forbidden Planet before losing the rest of our night to the Strand and Rob bought him for three dollars from a case of assorted loose DS9 characters. He spent the rest of the trip setting alarms, running baths, reading maps, enjoying views, trying to get into locked pianos . . . The photos are on Facebook, but Rob is thinking about giving him a Tumblr of his own. 1/8th Gates was an inspiration.
I do not know why the young man at the Strand on Friday night asked if I was an artist, saying it was because of my wrists. (I said I was a writer, which was not what I thought he meant.) Then he told me I should part my hair differently. Rob came in for the second half of this exchange and as just as nonplussed as I was.
On the F train to Coney on Saturday, the two girls in the seat next to me were playing a clapping game. It was one I didn't know: shame, shame, shame, I don't want to go to Mexico no more, more, more . . . They looked between eight and ten. They kept breaking off and arguing with each other about the hand-claps, but they were definite about the lyrics each time. In this age of permanent connectivity and iPhones as soon as a child can tap a screen, I was both slightly surprised and incredibly pleased to see that this kind of play still exists.
Please tell me that I did not do myself a terrible disservice by leaving Nicholas Blake's The Smiler with the Knife (1939) in a hipstery little secondhand shop on Stillwell Ave. It looked excellent from the first couple of pages, but it was a thin little pulp (orange and blue cover, sixties kind of silhouette design) and the pages were already oxidizing to the point where I worried about leaving them on my fingers in flakes as I read. On the other hand, it was two dollars. It had better still be in print, so I can find another copy. Or terrible, so I don't mind about missing this one.
The no-name candy store was Williams Candy and they look like they might be famous, or at least locally known for their candy apples, which I did not get. So there's another thing to go back for.
I mentioned my Tenmen shirt on Sunday, but I did not mention that Rob was also wearing his Achewood T-shirt: What We Need More of Is Science. Because we were going to the World's Fair.
And this is not wholly New York, but I don't care. The last thing I saw online before I turned off the computer and fell over last night (rain-cool wind is even better than air conditioning) was Alicia Cole's "Artemis Speaks to Aphrodite," dedicated to me. It's a wonderful poem, and I am honored to be associated with it. Later this month, Strange Horizons will be publishing her poem for the Coney Island Mermaid Parade and I will shout about it, because it's just that good.
Today I get to do lots of catch-up work.

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Uh, what *would* be a more artistic parting? That's utter nonsense.
Alicia's poem is very, very good indeed.
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I have passed this information on.
That's utter nonsense.
(Thank you. It was confusing. I washed my hair that night and combed it out in the shower as usual. I don't think it hurt my bohemian credentials any.)
Alicia's poem is very, very good indeed.
I love the second stanza: sea nettle, weeds. The tea I brewed was bitter. I was reminded of H.D., the best Greek lyric poet who wrote in English.
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*delicate cough*
Someday soon you will surpass H.D., you know. I'm not even saying that because I like you.
...and how else were you meant to have parted your hair?
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Thank you. I will try not to let Tiny Wittgenstein qualify it. He's been good recently.
...and how else were you meant to have parted your hair?
ARTISTICALLY.
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I have a bus pass in my bag; I'll trade it to see that.
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Psst.
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That makes me so happy. (BTW, googled to find out more and got this video, mentioned several times, plus a mention in a scholarly book that included another verse about Hollywood and Michael Jackson, plus a note referring to another scholar's works from 1988, and then, on the second page of Google results, your entry here. Ah, recursiveness.)
And maybe addenda would be better than errata ?
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I didn't see the video! There was not a verse about Michael Jackson in the version I heard on Saturday; evidently he's faded out of schoolyard culture again. That's neat.
And maybe addenda would be better than errata?
Well, a couple of them were corrections. I felt bad about maligning the candy store and the state of the air conditioning at the Jane.
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I had no idea! (How many Frank Ryans were there?)
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I knew he was someone whose non-pen name I would remember as soon as I wasn't staring at the book in indecision and then forgot to look up when I got home. (I didn't know about Tamasin Day-Lewis, because she was completely off my radar.) Thank you.
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Googling eventually turns up even later editions with Amazon used copies, so you should be able to track it down from booksellers.
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Yay!
Thank you for looking.
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I love the poem, thanks for linking to it.
It's so great right now that there's actually this explosion of speculative poetry. Fifteen years ago there was zilch, and then there was Strange Horizons and now there are all these places and all these people writing and publishing and being great. I originally started putting poetry online in the open because poetry spills out of my ears there was literally nothing else to do with it, and that just isn't true any more. I'm really happy about this.
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That's the outcome I was hoping for. Thank you!
I originally started putting poetry online in the open because poetry spills out of my ears there was literally nothing else to do with it, and that just isn't true any more. I'm really happy about this.
Agreed. I published my first poem twelve years ago now and there were markets, but nothing like the proliferation of the last five years. (I think of the sea-change starting in 2005 and then really becoming visible more recently.) I wish more of them were print, because I do like paper, but I understand why they're not. It should only continue.
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Thanks for linking "Artemis Speaks to Aphrodite." It's grand and graceful and worthy of you. Well done to Alicia Cole.
Today I get to do lots of catch-up work.
Good luck with the lot.
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