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Wednesday Update
Jul. 23rd, 2014 09:59 amMaybe it's the cost of having The Walking Dead in my head all the time, but I've been having the most horrifying dreams. Last night, at one point, I looked out the window only to see what must be a cruise missile (ancient technology at this point, but the face of nuclear terror in my youth) streak past, bound for the centre of the city; Steve and I hugged Cal close, waiting for the blast. Then it shifted and I was doing a double reading with Dave Nickle, which went really badly. We went outside, paused next to his open car and then had to shoo a bunch of tourists out of it after they assumed it was a taxi. When we finally got in, however, the car took off by itself; "oh crap," Dave exclaimed, "it must be after curfew!" The car parked itself in an underground lot, where we were told that everything inside the trunk would be confiscated, including my backpack (full of current notes, as usual). I went into a fit of screaming hysterics and was still begging and pleading with the authorities when I woke up.
Monday night/morning, on the other hand--after that long sleepless period while everything in my gut turned unexpectedly to liquid--it was a total Children of Old Leech scenario: a movie screening at some post-apocalyptic drive-in, gravel-pits, rusted-out wrecks and sand-traps everywhere, most inhabited by giant insects and skin-suited lizard-people. The usherette had no arms, and wore a rough tunic sewn from naugahyde pulled from car-seats, dyed red. There was a giant, squishy head wrapped up in butcher's paper shoved behind one of the booths near the barbecue pit that seemed to act as her boss, because she kept unwrapping it a little and consulting it, surreptitiously; the movie that was playing was a kind of Western/musical about a travelling medicine show leader from the 1800s allowing himself to be violently lynched and mutilated in a martyr-like fashion, so that his blood would irrigate and consecrate the spot where he died to darkness. Near the end, things devolved into a sort of "family reunion" between cast and audience members, the characters stepping off-screen to confront them, since it was (of course) no coincidence that they'd chosen to come here...
And now it's Wednesday, overcast and steamy. I'm six parts through "This Old Death," which currently has four kudos and 94 hits on the AO3--12,600+ words, for Christ's sweet sake. What fuck am I doing to myself, she asked, ruefully.
Ah well. If it didn't "need" to be done on some level, I guess, I wouldn't be able to do it at all. Right?
Okay, back we go.
Monday night/morning, on the other hand--after that long sleepless period while everything in my gut turned unexpectedly to liquid--it was a total Children of Old Leech scenario: a movie screening at some post-apocalyptic drive-in, gravel-pits, rusted-out wrecks and sand-traps everywhere, most inhabited by giant insects and skin-suited lizard-people. The usherette had no arms, and wore a rough tunic sewn from naugahyde pulled from car-seats, dyed red. There was a giant, squishy head wrapped up in butcher's paper shoved behind one of the booths near the barbecue pit that seemed to act as her boss, because she kept unwrapping it a little and consulting it, surreptitiously; the movie that was playing was a kind of Western/musical about a travelling medicine show leader from the 1800s allowing himself to be violently lynched and mutilated in a martyr-like fashion, so that his blood would irrigate and consecrate the spot where he died to darkness. Near the end, things devolved into a sort of "family reunion" between cast and audience members, the characters stepping off-screen to confront them, since it was (of course) no coincidence that they'd chosen to come here...
And now it's Wednesday, overcast and steamy. I'm six parts through "This Old Death," which currently has four kudos and 94 hits on the AO3--12,600+ words, for Christ's sweet sake. What fuck am I doing to myself, she asked, ruefully.
Ah well. If it didn't "need" to be done on some level, I guess, I wouldn't be able to do it at all. Right?
Okay, back we go.
