|
I found a chunk of something--ice? glass? --shaped a little like a cup yesterday morning. I decided it was ice and put a bit of candle in it, so we could have fire and ice, a cold thing cradling a hot thing.
It was a sunny day, so it's hard to see the flame...
By evening, it was clear that the cup was indeed ice, not glass:
And now, a triple of things to share. First, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) dulcinbradbury creates a Medieval version of the Nigerian money-transfer e-mail scam (read it here).
And behindpyramids puts herself forward for the job of wedding cake tester (read her great cover letter here).
And finally, seraphimsigrist shares with us a wonderful poem by Robert Lax, "Sunset Cities," which you can read here.
The thank you goes out to the kind soul who nominated "The Qin Golem" for a Rhysling. Thank you!
I hear...: Blue October: Into the Ocean |
|
--at page 80 of Three Cups of Tea. Why?
Because:
Two decades earlier, an Irish nurse named Dervla Murphy felt the same tug to these mountains. Traveling in the intrepid spirit of Isabella Bird, and ignoring the sage advice of seasoned adventurers who told her Baltistan was impassible in the snow, Murphy crisscrossed the Karakoram in deep winter, on horseback, with her five-year-old daughter.
(Italics mine. Wonderful!)
( introspective rambling )
I hear...: Tanya Davis: Fortress |
|
cottonmanifesto came over to take some pictures of Molly, who is camera-shy--but no worries, because Cotton Manifesto loves dogs and knows how to get them to eat out of her hand (quite literally). Molly was loving that camera before the photo shoot was over--as you can see here. (The pictures are just gorgeous!)
And then? We went for a long walk and saw a huge congregation of crows, a turkey vulture, a bouquet of barbed wire, a frozen waterfall, and mysterious animal tracks (raccoon, as it turns out)--All of which you can see if you click on the link above.
It was a great visit--thanks for coming, Cotton Manifesto!
Three Cups of Tea
Now I am reading Three Cups of Tea (the story of Greg Mortenson, the mountain climber and veteran who worked--and still does work--to build schools in Pakistan). I'm loving it so far. What a charismatic guy Mortenson is (and what a wonderful place that mountainous region is). I'm just in the early pages of the book right now--he figured it would cost him $12,000 to build the school he first set out to build, so he wrote letters to Oprah Winfrey, to news anchors, and eventually to senators and pop stars:
"I had no idea what I was doing," Mortenson remembers. "I just kept a list of everyone who seemed powerful or popular or important and typed them a letter."
He reminds me of the tall one, who is writing to mayors of cities he thinks could benefit from mass transit to advocate for mass transit. You inspire me, Greg Mortenson! (And you inspire me, tall one!) I love people with a dream, who work toward it.
William Faulkner
shikuchi really enjoyed reading As I Lay Dying, which pleased her grandfather, who is a big fan of William Faulkner. Not only is he a big fan, he actually got to meet and have conversations with Faulkner--totally by chance. He ran into him in the street once and in a park another time. For shikuchi's birthday, her grandfather gave her The Sound and the Fury and wrote her a letter about his meetings with Faulkner. She blogged about it here. What I liked best was what she said about Faulkner staying in character :-) That, and how totally perfect is it to have a figure like Faulkner say to you, "You live and you anguish and you write"? That's pretty dang quotable.
I hear...: Eleazar Tillett: The Jolly Thrasher |
|
Numbers
Today is February fifth, and whether you write it European style (5-2-10) or American style (2-5-10), the first two numbers multiplied give you the second number. Numbers are such tricksters, they have a way of doing things like this as if to say, "See how mysterious and important I am?" Funny.
Moths
This morning on the news there was a story about moths, how they entrust themselves to the wind and let themselves get blown to where they want to go. Not aimlessly or witlessly, though: they pick the fastest winds--and end up traveling 60 miles an hour, sometimes--and if the wind changes, they adjust. And predators of the bats know about this migration:
Chapman cites reports of bats in the American Southwest suddenly swarming half a mile up into the sky. "The reason they're going up there is that there is a huge migration of moths coming in and out of Mexico into the Southern states," he says, "and the bats were taking advantage of this."
The Divine Beloved
Some religions have beautiful, sensual prayers to the divine. I really, really love Mann Mohanaa, for instance.
Your form is gorgeous ...
I have surrendered my body and soul...
I crave for you day and night.
I don't think most people's notion of Christian hymns includes that sort of imagery, and yet sometimes...
From Restoration (312b)
I will rise and go to Jesus
He'll embrace me in His arms
In the arms of my dear Savior
O there are ten thousand charms
From Lloyd (503b)
My savior and my King
Thy beauties are divine
Thy lips with blessing overflow
And every grace is Thine
Restoration was written in 1758, and Lloyd was written in 1719.
|
|
Sometimes when the sun goes down, it’s a clear disk, golden, then turning pink or orange. It gets caught in the net of trees at the horizon, and someone hauls it off. Night does. Night fishers. Someone.
Other times there isn’t a disk, it’s just the light, all diffuse. Still the colors and the brightness, and you can see the net of the trees trying to catch it, but it just trickles away.
Some people catch it in cups and drink it for their health. They do this in Mermaid’s Hands, for instance. Either set a cup of water out where it will catch the light of the setting sun, or else take an empty cup and stand in water (it doesn’t have to be ocean water—it could be lake water or a stream), and when the water glows with the colors, dip your cup in.
If I could have caught some today, I would have given it to the guy in the kiosk at the gas station. It’s an old-style gas station where you have to go up to pay; you can’t just pay at the pump. So this guy, he is in this small box, like a toll booth, and it’s cold. He has a space heater, but every time someone comes up to pay, he has to open a window and let in cold air. To keep him company he has only car air fresheners, different flavors of motor oil and gasoline additives, and cigarettes.
If I had caught some of that sunsetting light, say in a bucket, I bet it would have warmth and fragrance, and I would have said to him, “Hey, I have extra of this stuff; do you want some?”
I hear...: Dave Davis and the Warrior River Boys: Two Dimes and a Nickel |
| » washing dishes by candlelight |
|---|
Rather than collecting the dust of a long sleepless night and working spells with it, if you are feeling desiccated or sere, I recommend....
...washing dishes by candlelight
If you add to this some quince vodka (frankly, I suspect any sort of vodka at all would do), you may rediscover wellsprings, or if not, you may not care. And, the dishes will get washed.
(Though others may look at them critically in the future and say, "Who washed this?" Candlelight does not show up every speck and fleck of everything the way electric lights do.)
I found another good word in the dictionary the other day: iceblink.
Main Entry: ice·blink
Pronunciation: \-ˌbliŋk\
Function: noun
Date: 1817
: a glare in the sky over an ice field
Here is a photo of iceblink over an iceberg. It's a Flickr shot courtesy of Greenpeace Esperanza:
Feb. 3rd, 2010 @ 09:58 pm
|
| » osprey_archer on didactic literature |
|---|
We all hate didactic literature... or do we? osprey_archer points out that there were as many didactic stories that she liked, growing up, as there were ones she hated. (She mentions Aesop's Fables, which I loved too--and those are plenty didactic!)
It got me thinking about what literature we term didactic--and even about the term. Is it only didactic if the message is obtrusive and belabored? Anyway, take a look at her entry and share your thoughts (the entry's here).
Feb. 2nd, 2010 @ 10:06 am
|
| » "Cory's Father" up at Strange Horizons |
|---|
I'm thrilled and honored to have had a story accepted by Strange Horizons--and it's up this week!
And it's short :-)
So, take a look, if you have time. Here it is: "Cory's Father"
(Disabling comments because I'm neurotic that way...)
Feb. 1st, 2010 @ 09:16 am
|
| » turnip lantern |
|---|
Some days, you feel you just have to make a turnip lantern
... then you can leave it out on the railing, in the dark, to keep the Wolf Moon company and nonplus the neighbors.
Jan. 30th, 2010 @ 07:53 pm
|
| » voles |
|---|
In this entry, I wondered if maybe voles had made those snow-worm trails. Today Molly-the-dog was snuffling and pawing at a portion of one of those trails, and I was thinking about the last time I saw her snuffling like that, how a little black vole had jumped into the water to get away from her nose--and just as I was thinking that thought, a little black vole scurried away along the very trail that you can just about make out in the top part of the photo.
So. It was voles.
Jan. 30th, 2010 @ 09:13 am
|
| » danceswithwaves takes us into Faery |
|---|
In the auction to raise money to start Tu Publishing, I won a video, to be created by danceswithwaves, for a piece of music of my choosing.
She used images from my Flickr photostream and from the Seattle area. The music is Ensemble Galilei's "The Watershed," which is one of my favorite pieces of instrumental music ever. And the total effect ... is just breathtaking, staggering. She's created a beautiful, beautiful video. So--when you have a free moment, come wander across the border...
Jan. 29th, 2010 @ 08:48 am
|
| » (No Subject) |
|---|
I was working and suddenly was distracted by the sound of wind outside, and looked out, and the air was greenish white, and the trees were barely visible for the gusts of snow. It was a snow host passing by. Here's a five-second video that doesn't do it justice.
A while ago I took a photo of an outsider, from inside. Here is a picture of what the outsider sees.
In the dark you just melt away. You're moving, floating, in the darkness, and your eyes are drawn to these brilliant-bright squares of light.
Jan. 28th, 2010 @ 09:36 pm
|
| » (No Subject) |
|---|
It was warm and flood-filled; now it's cold again and the snow is falling, and tomorrow the temperatures will sink to some place we can't even see.
A highway department truck drove by me, filled with giant wire stars. Each star was as big as I am; they had tails, like comets. They decorated the streetlights on the town common over the holidays and now, on this chilly 28th of January, they're traveling back to wherever they stay for the rest of the year.
It sure was strange to see a truck full of stars, driving through the snow.
It is the end of January, so now I can commit my January playlist to a CD. Here are lines from one of my favorite new songs, Laura Marling's "The Captain and the Hourglass." (YouTube link here if you'd like to hear it.)
The wind and I, we speak the same
But he don't hear so well
If you're gonna have to curse him
Well you're gonna have to yell.
The sky and I, we've had our fights
And I'm coming round to rain
f the rain come round and it don’t go out
Then I’ll never have to speak again
Jan. 28th, 2010 @ 11:07 am
|
| » the mysterious snow worm |
|---|
The mysterious snow worm tunnels through the snow, and we never see it, but when the snow melts a few layers down, its tunnels are revealed.
(I don't know what really makes these little paths. Voles, maybe?)
Jan. 26th, 2010 @ 02:07 pm
|
| » signal boost: assistant editor position |
|---|
From Claire Massey, editor of New Fairy Tales
New Fairy Tales is seeking an assistant editor.
You can live anywhere in the world as long as you have a reliable internet connection.
You must be passionate about fairy tales and related fiction.
Duties will primarily involve reading submissions and discussing them with the editor although there may be opportunities to do some marketing work too. Time-wise it shouldn’t take up more than a couple of hours a week, with perhaps a little more time required close to submission deadlines.
Unfortunately we can’t pay - the magazine run on a voluntary basis and tries to raise money for charity - but you will gain valuable experience working on a growing online magazine.
Please send an email to Claire at editor@newfairytales.co.uk detailing a little bit about yourself, your creative experience, and what you love to read.
Deadline: 15th February 2010
Jan. 26th, 2010 @ 12:08 pm
|
| » a different type of water creature |
|---|
I took a bath surrounded by four washcloths, and suddenly remembered a creature my sister invented: the Wave-tahn.
When we were kids, we took baths together, and we'd sink down and make our knees be islands. We'd swirl the washcloths around like huge eels or sea serpents, and she called them Wave-tahns. We also had a plastic swan and some plastic ducks--these poor creatures were often prey of the Wave-tahns, who would drape over them and drag them down.
Did you invent and name creatures in your childhood? (Some of you I know do so today, so I imagine you did when younger, too.)
Jan. 26th, 2010 @ 02:48 am
|
| » floodlights |
|---|
(1) Floodlight is an evocative word
(2) There are flash flood warnings on the radio
Floodlights
Rain on the snow, rain on the ice—snowmelt and rainwater in the roads and in the swamps, the water level rising. Flash flood warnings. Low places becoming lakes, high places becoming islands. The water’s tapping on the windows, lapping at the doorjamb.
Look out those rain-streaked windows at the world of water, and maybe you’ll see floodlights—strange golden lights in the dark waters. Ancient creatures, strange eels and angler fish, bathydemersal, abyssal, bring these lights; they are self-radiant. They find a passage—all water is one water—from their midnight depths up to the gray surface, to our freshmade lakes and temporary rivers.
Their floodlights illuminate the waters. Some prophesy by them, others try to navigate by them. With its surface mottled and glowing from the floodlights, the water itself seems one giant being, extending itself across and over and through the earth, dissolving it, melting it, insubstantiating it, taking the world back to the first days of creation.
( the water reaching up toward the road )</a>
Jan. 25th, 2010 @ 02:21 pm
|
| » the borderlands at dawn |
|---|
Walking in the border regions between here and there, I was watching the sky. Glories are coming....
The smokestack of an abandoned furnace greets that golden tide. In a treetop, black birds also watch.
At ground level, the fire hydrant and the bush stand side by side. Theirs is a love that bridges the divide between born and created things.
Jan. 24th, 2010 @ 10:06 am
|
| » Dance of the Very Large Array |
|---|
....... this wasn't what I intended on posting, but........
Dance of the Very Large Array
White wings unfolded
and faces turned to the sky
they dance,
cranes of the New Mexico desert
calling to mates
across the galaxy
[thanks Janni!]
from http://www.mpifr-bonn.mpg.de/public/Dir_Larissa/
from http://www.judysphotos.com/albums.php
Jan. 22nd, 2010 @ 09:34 pm
|
| » ensky ... and a question about a haunting |
|---|
These two things are completely unrelated. I wanted to ask the question about the haunting, but then found this great word (while looking up a different word).
Main Entry: en·sky
Pronunciation: \in-ˈskī, en-\
Function: transitive verb
Date: 1603
: exalt I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted — Shakespeare
I thought it was going to mean "place in the sky" --which I guess is sort of what "exalt" does mean.
Okay, and here is the question.
You are told the banks of a river are haunted by the ghost of someone whom the ancestors of the people in a nearby town killed (gruesomely) in an act of mob justice some generations earlier. The ghost now lures people to their dooms, so beware the riverbanks, say the townspeople.
Question: What is your first assumption regarding the guilt or innocence of the person who became the ghost, and why? What informs your opinions? (Ghost stories? Horror stories? Folklore?)
Jan. 20th, 2010 @ 07:10 pm
|
|
|
