I found myself in tears this morning on the train.
Well, not tears, but that sort of misty eyed almost tear state that great art can bring me too sometimes.
A friend of mine lent me a copy of
A History of Violence I did not know who Vince Locke was. I did not know what to expect graphically.
I do not have words. Others might not feel the same way as my reasons are at least 50% personal, but...
So, after having my mind blown six ways from Sunday I spent the rest of the trip listening to Leonard Cohen and reading Mathematical Castrophe.
And had my mind blown again. I hadn't touched the poems in that folio for at 6 4 months, and had forgotten how powerful some of them are.
Expect something about scholae, steam powered centaurs and knife-handed sentinals in
the_oaths_city within the next day or two.
And if anyone's interest I'm open to reposting some poetry too.