Greer Gilman's Blog, page 9

Age of treason

And there sits the child emperor amid the ruin of his toys. “Now with real mob action! Rule of law not included.”

Damn him. Damn them all.

Nine

"And now good-morrow to our waking souls..."

Well, that—symbolically at least—is that for 2020.  Circumstances are not bounded by calendars, and last year's losses are irreparable.  I went out onto the Common and anathematized; then at midnight, rang in 2021 with my mother's string of sweet-voiced temple bells.

May it bring the world healing, light and life and to all of you.

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Walking music

Boskone 58 has prompted me:  "Authors, artists, and creators often listen to music while they work. If you have a playlist you'd like to share or an album to recommend, please add it here. We'll be compiling a list of lists to help Boskone attendees get their creative juices flowing."

After I wrote this, I discovered that there's only space for a link:  so this post is it.

I work in silence; but I walk to music, gathering story round me like an atmosphere, like thundersnow.  Trad folk, mostly.  There are always Watersons and Carthys in the mix:  they are the groundbass of Cloud.  There is often Playford, because moving through a dance is choreography for scenes.  Bach is for puzzle-solving.

These are a few of the tracks I was listening to over and over, while finishing Cloud & Ashes.  The mix was fluid, depending on what scene I was working on, so this isn’t a set playlist.  Thinking up stories calls for a different set of songs and tunes:  ballads are a wellspring for me.  By the end, the river moves swiftly.

Hesperus, "Packington's Pound"       


The Broadside Band, "Childgrove"

Lal & Mike Waterson, "Fine Horseman"

Dolores Keane & John Faulkner, "
Mouth Music"

(I can’t find the version I have online.  It has a bodhran driving it, and isn’t paired with a fiddle tune, but this will give you an idea.)


Eileen McGann, "The Rolling Of The Stones"


Anne Lister, "Beech and Willow"


The Broadside Band, "Mr. Beveridge's Magot"


Richard Thompson, "Remember O Thou Man"

(The version that I have is also live, though not this performance.)

Bare Necessities, "Trip to Kilburn"


Bare Necessities, "Easter Thursday"

Against the pandemic, I find Noel Coward bracing:  not his sentimental songs, but the commonsensical cynicism of “Why must the show go on?” and the rousing pessimism of “There are bad times just around the corner.”

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"Villagers all, this frosty tide..."

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate that feast!  And a pleasant winter's day to all.

This time I remembered to order Peking duck, and put on my good spruce bluegreen outfit to eat it in.  movingfinger , bless their kind heart, had sent me a dark rich fruitcake and a Milanese cherry panettone, charmingly wrapped in a paper with lions and unicorns and mermaids with swords.  Tucked in was a little packet of "zucchero impalpabile."  That has to be magic!  Others, no less thoughtful, have sent fine chocolates.  I only wish I could get to Tosci's.  That would be perfect.

On Christmas Eve afternoon, I got to meet Fox and family on their doorstep, bringing presents, and Fox had drawn me a Christmas stocking, and rushthatspeaks and gaudior   gave me Susanna Clarke's Piranesi. Lovely.

I'd saved up the wintriest jigsaw puzzles I own for Advent and the Twelve Days.  I've just done a gorgeous Hunters in the Snow (Peaceful Puzzles) and an Artifact Adoration of the Magi whose whimsies are an inset nativity scene, and am now embarked on a fabulous Liberty Journey of the Magi, to the sound of carols and wassails (Watersons, &c.).

While I drank my tea, I read the "Dulce domum" chapter from The Wind in the Willows. No really.  I love it, and it seemed to dis-ironize and unimprison the idea of home, to make return a discovery.  Besides, it lets in company.

Villagers all, this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide,
Though wind may follow, and snow beside,
Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours in the morning!

May the New Year bring immunity! And next Christmas, real carollers!

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And the great dance goes on

Saturn has sided with Jupiter, and is moving down the hey. Honour your partner!

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At the year's midnight, meeting

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Lightfast

Joy, health, love, and peace be with you at the sun's returning.

And to my Antipodean friends at Midsummer—revel in the light!

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By Jupiter!

No hope of seeing the conjunction this evening, I thought: it's much too cloudy. But I went up on the roof at five o'clock anyway, and was rewarded by a transient but perfect view. So fortunate there was a rivulet of clarity in just the right place at the right time.



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Old cronies

Jupiter and Saturn crowdling up in each other's arms. I imagine them in sables and babaric jewelry.







Alas, the winter solstice itself will be rainy, but the view this evening was flawless.  I wish my good camera hadn't gone wonky when I can't get it fixed, but the iPhone did pretty well.

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Kingdom of Elfin

The snow drowned the city. It sank beneath the whiteness like some elfish Ys, fathoms deep in enchantment. Even the prosaic strings of lights sublimed, blue-violet like an unknown element, an eldritch halogen.



Look down, and it was Elfand, mantled in magic; look out, a bleak Poughkeepsie.





By morning, all was snug, with every twiglet eiderdowned, smoke rising from a splendid hearthfire.




But as evening fell, the trees unvelveted their claws. Snug-at-home looked just a little threatened.



"And I awoke and found me here, on the cold hill’s side..."



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