I keep unplanning the same Sunday. Leg
and flower, breeze and terrier, I have no garden
and couldn’t be happier. Please, don’t lose me
here. I am sorry my clutch is all
tendon and no discipline: the heart is a severed
kind of muscle and alone.
I can hear yours in your room. I hear mine
in another room. In another’s.
—Brenda Shaughnessy, from “Epithalament”
"I’m studying to be a librarian."
"What’s the sexiest part about being a librarian?"
"I’d say the width of our knowledge. The rest of academia seems to have a rather specific focal point, whereas librarians need to know enough to serve as a guide for researchers of every discipline."
why would you ask her that
i am also confused why he would ask her that as well. im also starting to boil with anger
The sexiest part about being a librarian is how easy it’d be to kill a man between the stacks and get away with it
great going asshole, sexually harass women on the street cos you have a popular blog and think you’re important? piece of shit
Good answer on her part, considering the constraints she was under and suddenness of the ugly question.
27 seconds of where I am going on Friday
Every once in a while, it’s fun to try to change your writing style so that you sound alien to yourself and you worry you will never get back to yourself and start shaking a little and your edges crack and tumble outwards.
When’s the last time you ever offered a panel for a conference and got fan mail? This comes from someone who attended the “Flash Evolution: Flash Novella” session for Conversations and Connections.
My ears have pricked up. I need to go and investigate this.
Also fan mail is a lovely idea: send nice discrete notes to yr favourite writers whenever.
okay! I went looking for my creative drive and found some, kind of linty, down in an old drafts folder. A poem I always liked that was missing something. So I found that missing something (it was kind of slimy like duckweed) and put that in, and then submitted to PANK mostly so I could give PANK $3 and have something else to wait for.
I also started a flash fiction collection, going to be called ‘Monstirs’ (spelled that way so people will pronounce it the way I do) but as I only have 5 relevant stories and a handful of ideas this may take some time.
I have mostly entirely checked out early this week.
I’ve had to stop writing novel #3 in order to give D time to read some of it. I’m having one of those crises of confidence in what I’ve written so far - understandable, I think, given it’s pretty far out of my comfort range/I’ve deliberately been trying to write it simply and plot-based, two areas of weakness in my skill set.
It’s sunny and all I want is chocolate and for this sunshine to hold over the weekend for when D and I and our two friends M and A go camping on the isle of Arran in that deer-ridden place by the sea loch I posted about yesterday.
No, I also want to go into a bookshop and browse and pick up like six books to take to the coffee shop inside the bookshop and decide which ones I want to buy and then pay my money and take the chosen books home and put one in my rucksack for the trainride to the western coast, and to read on the swing that pushes out over the loch.
A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.
There is an episode of Supernatural from a few seasons ago where a couple are so stricken with love and hunger and loneliness that when they kiss for the first time they start to eat each other, and keep going until they are both dead on the kitchen floor.
I have a lot of problems with the way ‘realism’ is used in literature and criticism. I tend to think it is an ill-defined term, not a useful way to think of most fiction, and it spawns some of the worst criticism. ‘It didn’t feel realistic!’ is the go-to complaint for everyone from Amazon reviewers to undergrad workshoppers who didn’t bother to understand what a text was trying to do.
I remember having peers in workshop who couldn’t talk about non-realist work as anything other than satire. If you wrote a story about vacuum-pigs, you’d get comments like, ‘What is the vacuum-pig satirizing? What does the tower of sinks represent? I don’t get it!’