"In the darkest part of you that you have ever seen." (Redux)
Cold and cloudy here today. Week after the bomb weather. Month after Chicxulub. Cold. But I'm refusing either sweater or space heater. Not yet. Not this soon. There's talk of eighties this weekend, some crazy breath of Saint Martin's summer after the first wave of chill. It's all a fever in New England. Wish you were here.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,343 words, beginning and finishing the third section of "A Birth in the Wood of Self-Murderers." You get Dante, Blake, Conrad, and Dylan Thomas, plus dryads and keys to Hell. And a spaceship adrift. Thank me later.
And it has me in the frame of mind to read The Heart of Darkness again.
Today, in theory, I pull Sirenia Digest together. We shall see, shall we not?
Another Decade Getting High Until You're Free,
Aunt Beast
Yesterday, I wrote 1,343 words, beginning and finishing the third section of "A Birth in the Wood of Self-Murderers." You get Dante, Blake, Conrad, and Dylan Thomas, plus dryads and keys to Hell. And a spaceship adrift. Thank me later.
And it has me in the frame of mind to read The Heart of Darkness again.
Today, in theory, I pull Sirenia Digest together. We shall see, shall we not?
Another Decade Getting High Until You're Free,
Aunt Beast