Title: Men Who Listen
Rating R for smut
Word Count 1875
The bed was a warm nest, and Thomas held him close even as he said that they should both get up. And Thomas seemed inclined, Kit thought, to make the process more difficult. Dressing seemed to provide vulnerable moments which Kit had not anticipated. Thomas waited until Kit was putting on his shirt; until Kit was muffled in the folds of crumpled linen, arms in the air. In this foolish position he found himself embraced. It was different this way, he felt more exposed,even once he had pulled the shirt down properly. He was still standing half dressed, with his stockings pooled childishly, untied, around his feet.( Read more...Collapse )
He tells me about chemisty and I tell him about Marlowe. And that is just fine.
But Lake effect snow is a whole nother thing.I have never lived anywhere afflicted with it. We lived for a while on the edge of Lake Michigan, but on the wrong side for lake effect snow. (BTW, Lake Michigan is for all purposes an inland sea. It stretches out to the horizon. It has shipwrecks. It has surf sometimes. It feels like swimming in the Atlantic. It just tastes wrong!)
My MIL spent her early girlhood in Cheektuwaga. She remembers diving out of the second floor window for fun, to land safely in a snowdrift. I would perhaps not believe her story if I had not done the same, at school in the Berkshires. (We used the 3rd floor balcony to get a good running start!)
Snow has come to upper New York State. Here are some pictures.
I am glad that Coney Island is on the water. We should get lots of wet wind, and it will be cold, but snow should be less thereby. That is the plan, anyhow. I will let you all know how it turns out.
Title: The Best Hair
Horatio and Archie
Word Count 300
“It's slipping.” Horatio said. His tone was panicked. “Oh God, it is all coming down again-- I told you it wasn't secure.”
“Just hold still Horatio. When you gyrate around that way of course it is going to come down. Have you never noticed the way woman walk? Sort of more smoothly?The way they hold their heads up. That is to prevent just this sort of disaster.”
“I never noticed anything different about he way women walk.” Horatio's voice was plaintive. “They are usually carrying something,” he tried.
Archie transferred the pins to his mouth. He spoke around them, his brows were knit with menace. “Sit down.” He said.
“Wasn't gyrating.” Horatio winced as Archie applied the comb again. “Ow! That pulls! And I don't see why I have to be the girl. Why couldn't--”
“You have the best hair, that is why.”
“I don't see why you couldn't--”
“I have backstage experience Horatio. An entirely different thing. And my hair is straight. That makes it even worse for sliding than yours. There now. That should do it, if you are careful this time. Here, the palla goes this way.
“Are you sure some breeches underneath wouldn't be all right? It is all a bit drafty.”
“I can imagine.” This came with a real smile. And, having spit the hairpins into his hand, a real kiss too. “No breeches. I will investigate any draftiness later, I promise.”
From beyond the canvas curtain Horatio heard Mr Bracegirldle.
“Calpurnia--” Bracegirldle said.
“There now. Go! And keep your hair on!
Archie gave him as small push.
“Here my Lord,” said Horatio.
Walking Hazel tonight. Two boys foot-racing collided with me. No matter what else, kids want to run as fast as they can.
When I was a kid I found a dead one by the side of the road. I knew better, but I picked it up. I just wanted to look. It was not dead, but merely stunned. It bit me right away. That was the night that my mom cleaned my punctured hand with kerosene. (Mom used kerosene for lots of things.) And she gave me a stern lecture about playing with things like that, and bats in particular. Bats, she said, carry rabies and other diseases humans can get. These diseases may not make the bats themselves sick. An injured creature will bite. A dead creature will leak. If you need to examine it for some reason use a stick.
My moim was not an epidemioligist. She was a stay-home mom, and this was about 1974. But she read a lot. And she was right. Bats are probable resovoirs for at least 20 diseases that will kill humans. Ebola in particular, we now now..
Most especially the hammer headed bat. This guy.
He is not handsome, but has a certain charm I think. That is the male, pictured. He has a nose like an elephant seal. He uses it to sing a song to attract the girl bats. He sits very still, in company with other male bats, at the appointed time, and sings. She comes over and makes a pick. They mate, and produce one baby. This is an animal that can live to be 30! They live entirely on fruit. They have a three foot wingspan.
What thoughts would such a creature have? We can never know. But I think we can safely say that we should admire them from a distance, and not harrass, kill, or eat them.
Hello. Just popping in to wave form a distance. I did not end up going to the vineyard.
It was too costly and too far, in the end, to go up and back. The few items that I do want can probably be shipped.
The sand has almost run out on that section of my life. And I feel a sort of airy disconnect. You know how when you are a kid and you keep a bandaid on long after it gets soggy? And you take it off, and the healing self underneath is sort of blanched and unprepared? Like that.
A new me, blinking at the light. We shall see what comes now.
Happy Halloween !
The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.'
If I could put 23 words in a row that were that good, (not even touching on the rest of the poem,) I would be content with life.I return to Houseman over and over, and Kipling too. There must have been something in the water, in those years.
Taken as a shard of writing it could easiy refer to the young men who died 1591-4. (we know there was crap in the water then. Maybe the tapering off of genius is correlated with too much water drinking...) Only Will made it out alive. And Ben Jonson who was younger.
I have decided that reading Marlowe is like prancing in cumulous clouds, or perhaps like a whopping dose of morphine. Nashe, is like curly wooden fretwork, and Jonson is like pushing your face into the sunwarmed earth under a tree. I like all those things. All those things are more complicated than they seem. (Well, I am guessing about the cloud prancing.)
It seems strange that the writing that moves me most is not that of my own country. I love much of it, of course, Emily Dickinson, Millay, Frost, but I always felt that the stories came from somewhere else first. We cannot tell what will move us. I remember reading somewhere that Phil Collins the singer is a world expert on the Alamo. I can imagine him as a little guy, reading about Davy Crockett.
It appears I will be going up to Massachusetts in the next week or two. One final sleep in the house of my childhood. I lived there summers until I was 15. And I lived there full time age 5-15. After 15 I did not really live at home. I was visiting after that. (You cannot send your kids away and expect to have them come back fully your own. that is perhaps the point.)
I think I will be renting a car to go up, so I am going to take Z and Hazel with me. He can help with any heavy lifting, and get a little break from the city. And Hazel will enjoy running on the beach. Thurber (another good one,) said that Marthas Vineyard is a paradise for dogs. And it is very true. So we have that to look foreward to.
But I am not leaving yet. My fan and other fiction has fallen sadly off. Hope to do something about that in the next week.