Have I mentioned that October is my favorite month? The weather is cooler, the sun is less obnoxious, and it contains events such as The Witches Ball, which I will be attending. It also inspires projects that contain so many of my favorite things that my brain might just explode. For example: a short story, inspired by Ray Bradbury, written by Michael Swanwick, on actual October leaves, which were then photographed, interspersed with pictures of Laurel Hill Cemetery, with the final product also made into a book. Michael Swanwick talks about the project here and you can view the photos here.
October also contains the KGB Fantastic Fiction raffle, which opens on the 11th, and gives you the opportunity to win awesome prizes, while supporting wonderful fiction. Last time they held the raffle, I won some kick-ass stuff, and I never win anything. I’m living proof…it could happen to you!
In a recent post, I lamented that my dreams are nowhere near as cool as Michael Swanwick’s. While on the way to the train station this morning, I remembered* a dream I had last night, which, while still not as cool, at least feels like progress.
I was sitting around with a bunch of people I haven’t seen since elementary school. A mouse ran across the floor in front of me, which prompted me to yell “My boots are full of mice!” I looked down and saw that I was wearing big, black, knee-high galoshes. Little mouse heads and tails kept popping up as the mice ran up and down my legs. I removed my boots, and poured a stream of mice out of each.
*I was prompted to remember this dream by a leaf blowing past my foot, which looked like a bit like a mouse to my half-asleep brain. I actually said “My boots are full of mice,” aloud, and the dream came rushing back to me. It’s probably best that no one else was around.
Yesterday, Michael Swanwick pointed readers of his blog to a collection of excerpts from his dream diary, which was published in the Readercon 13 program under the awesome title of Lord Vacant on the Boulevard of Naked Angels. As it turns out, the man is just as brilliant in his sleep as he is awake. He dreams in fascinating fragments of prose, filled with beautiful scraps and haunting imagery. I’m jealous. My dreams are nowhere near that coherent, or interesting. At the same time, I’m grateful that the world contains sleeping minds capable of dreaming like that. I’m also grateful that, thanks to Michael Swanwick, the world now contains this phrase: “Weasels wease. That’s all there is to it.” Truer words were never spoken.
Being A Round-Up of Randomness Under a Different Name
Michael Swanwick writes a short story on a Jarful of Keys.
Sad and beautiful: An abandoned book warehouse in England.
Kyle Cassidy takes beautiful photographs. Just in general. Seriously, spend some time poking around his site. He’s got some wonderful pictures of the Philadelphia Poe reading (linked from his journal) and a very cool series of pictures of fantasy and science fiction authors in their creative spaces at whereiwrite. Authors writing and/or surrounded by books – if it isn’t a fetish, it should be.
And some recommended reading top it off.
Dreams of Elephants and Ice by Mari Ness
Keepity Keep by Carole Lanham
Invasive Species by Janni Lee Simner
The Four Hundred Thousand by Livia Llewellyn