"Home's face: how it ages when you're away." (7 Vicodin)
I went to bed at two thirty, was asleep by three, and Kathryn didn't wake me until almost noon. I haven't slept nearly that much at a stretch in many, many months. I have no idea what finally made it happen last night. I'm no longer taking any sleep aids, and I've hardly been sleeping. So, while I'm disoriented and whatnot, it was desperately needed. And right towards the very end, I dreamt of swimming in a deep lake in Alabama, high in the mountains. On the shore was an old stone house that had been built by one of my great grandmothers. The land was green and wild.
As the northeast careens through the vicissitudes of this strange Green Autumn, we've been having some warm days. Like yesterday. Today, however, Providence is overcast and drear. Chilly. Only 70˚F. No, there are no Dog Days in New England.
The wheel of the year. Green Autumn. Autumn. Winter. Cold Spring.
I've been working on a new story, which I hope to finish in the next couple of days. I began it on the 16th, and then there was the OD and...stuff...and Necronomicon. I appropriated a title (with all due respect) from David Tibet*, and it's called "Black Ships Seen South of Heaven." Yesterday, I wrote 1,006 words. On Tuesday, I did 1,120 words. On Monday, I wrote 1,037 words on the story. Meanwhile, I'm "behind schedule" on everything. But at least I'm writing. Somehow, that no longer feels like what's expected of me. Or...I don't know what I'm trying to say.
I've become a haphazard blogger.
Most interesting thing I said yesterday: "I'd have fucked William Burroughs when he was a leathery old man."
Here are some of the photos from Necronomicon, and there should be more tomorrow. I admit, there's a certain monotony to these. I'll put some up tomorrow that aren't a series of almost identical photos of me (on Sunday in the Grand Ballroom of the Biltmore Hotel, immediately before and during a sex, gender, and identity panel at an HPL convention):
Here, I threaten to eat Jason Brock's face.
This amazing ghoul skull was sculpted by a Providence artists, Gage Prentiss. When I wrote "Pickman's Other Model (1929)" and Vince Locke was working on the illustration for it, we talked about how I saw ghoul skulls, and I suggested a human/hyena hybrid. Which is was the same conclusion that Gage, independently, arrived at. After all, you need teeth that can crack bones. I will own one of these someday, when I have $600 to spare. I will sit beside my Smilidon skull.
From the 17th Floor of the Biltmore, the view east, towards College Hill.
View to the southeast, towards the Manchester Power Plant, Fox Point hurricane barrier, and the head of Narragansett Bay.
The dome of Providence City Hall.
All photographs Copyright © 2013 by Kathryn A. Pollnac
Sticky,
Aunt Beast
* For the record, I only borrow titles from the works of other artists after those artists have published or otherwise published the title or distinct phrase, and, even then, I sometimes ask permission as a professional courtesy.
As the northeast careens through the vicissitudes of this strange Green Autumn, we've been having some warm days. Like yesterday. Today, however, Providence is overcast and drear. Chilly. Only 70˚F. No, there are no Dog Days in New England.
The wheel of the year. Green Autumn. Autumn. Winter. Cold Spring.
I've been working on a new story, which I hope to finish in the next couple of days. I began it on the 16th, and then there was the OD and...stuff...and Necronomicon. I appropriated a title (with all due respect) from David Tibet*, and it's called "Black Ships Seen South of Heaven." Yesterday, I wrote 1,006 words. On Tuesday, I did 1,120 words. On Monday, I wrote 1,037 words on the story. Meanwhile, I'm "behind schedule" on everything. But at least I'm writing. Somehow, that no longer feels like what's expected of me. Or...I don't know what I'm trying to say.
I've become a haphazard blogger.
Most interesting thing I said yesterday: "I'd have fucked William Burroughs when he was a leathery old man."
Here are some of the photos from Necronomicon, and there should be more tomorrow. I admit, there's a certain monotony to these. I'll put some up tomorrow that aren't a series of almost identical photos of me (on Sunday in the Grand Ballroom of the Biltmore Hotel, immediately before and during a sex, gender, and identity panel at an HPL convention):
Here, I threaten to eat Jason Brock's face.
This amazing ghoul skull was sculpted by a Providence artists, Gage Prentiss. When I wrote "Pickman's Other Model (1929)" and Vince Locke was working on the illustration for it, we talked about how I saw ghoul skulls, and I suggested a human/hyena hybrid. Which is was the same conclusion that Gage, independently, arrived at. After all, you need teeth that can crack bones. I will own one of these someday, when I have $600 to spare. I will sit beside my Smilidon skull.
From the 17th Floor of the Biltmore, the view east, towards College Hill.
View to the southeast, towards the Manchester Power Plant, Fox Point hurricane barrier, and the head of Narragansett Bay.
The dome of Providence City Hall.
All photographs Copyright © 2013 by Kathryn A. Pollnac
Sticky,
Aunt Beast
* For the record, I only borrow titles from the works of other artists after those artists have published or otherwise published the title or distinct phrase, and, even then, I sometimes ask permission as a professional courtesy.