Presently, here in London, the sun’s striking the rain-dropped window and it’s a bit like living in a disco ball.
Last night, I had dinner with eg and vi and spilled some cider on the floor. It was a thing involving how the server explained that you were meant to poor Spanish cider in one of those up and down motions that make you look cool unless you spill it on the floor. I tried it twice. Once, it worked. I got cocky and tried again. It worked less well.
Somehow I ended up telling the story about my first day of kindergarten in which I didn’t make it inside the school. What I remember is sitting on the sidewalk with mom and crying until we went back home. The next day she got me in the door by promising to stay where I could see her in the parking lot. I still remember seeing her out there, drinking from a pepsi bottle, keeping watch on her boy.
I have probably written about this before. But, the thing is, last night, after I finished telling that story, vi asked what I was afraid of and it felt wonderful to be asked. A lot of people aren’t so vocal with their inquisitiveness. Maybe it’s because she’s a fellow writer. Or, maybe, as eg said, it’s a sign of deepening friendship that one feels free to go spelunking into the caverns of each other’s fears.
Possibly a little of both.
Happy Tuesday, readers.
Careful with that cider.
Here is a thing, while writing to someone, that I realized about the word ‘weird.’
I realized that weird has come to stand not simply for behavior outside of the norm, but for behavior that merits scrutiny and suspicion, as in perhaps hiding their intent, or attempting to engender obligation, etc.
Dishonesty is totally weird and totally common.
That is all.
Happy Friday, readers.
The last ice storm I remember (other than those featuring a young, pre-ringbearing Elijah Wood), occurred in 1994. I was thirteen. We had a landline. Possibly a rotary phone. When you went for a walk everything was quiet except for the sound of everything slowly breaking, ice melting in the sun, refreezing at night, branches and wires unaccustomed to the weight bending, bending, and then, at last, falling. It was wise not to walk under things during this time.
School was cancelled for a week. I don’t remember doing anything much different than what my sister and I did a few weeks ago, sled and play video games. Sometimes kneel and look at frozen things. Leaves, blossoms, paint brushes. Stillness in unexpected places.
Something else that happened in 1994 was Friends.
I watched the pilot yesterday. It reminded me of that year and of being thirteen and of fearing stillness and sex and not always understanding what the people on tv meant when they said things but wanting and trying to understand the world through this box with the people. What’s amazing is how looking back sometimes feels like looking forward. I can see myself in episodes of Friends looking forward to who I am now. I can see myself wondering when I will date and when I will kiss and when I will fall in love in such a way as to warrant standing still in the pouring rain full of unexpected hope.
So. I watch. And I wave to myself. Hello, I say.
Nice to see you after all this time, I say.
Dear god, my past self says, this parachute is a knapsack.
Chandler was an early role model.
Some things of note.
Strange Horizons, that treasure chest chock full of punk selkies, queer robots, and other such speculative gold, released their readers’ poll for the best of 2014. Many wonderful stories and writers were nominated. I was lucky enough to find myself among the year’s favorite reviewers. Go here. Look at the lists. Read stuff.
A new crop of videographical interfaces, otherwise known as vlogs, otherwise known as a chronicle of the mess one can make of their hair in three minutes and thirty-three seconds, have started appearing.
Check out the first new video here, in which I decide to name my video channel hug your monsters because:
And the latest one here:
And be on the look out for more videos every other Wednesday.
Psst. You can Subscribe here.
The better part of January and February found me in Nashville, visiting my sister, and friends, and tinkering around with various projects, such as the vlog, the novel, and another thing which will not be included in this list of things but may be discussed at some future date in which other things, such as this thing, might be discussed. It snowed a lot my last week in Nashville. It prevented me from flying home to EG, but it also gave me and my sister a few extra days to sled and Mario Kart, to get out old vinyl and listen to Jimi Hendrix. Not a bad deal.
More soon. And always.