Wednesday, January 24, 2007

I don't remember, dragons and hot drink.

1. Looking for an email I sent recently, I realise I have items in my folders going back to 2005. I spot a set of correspondence that was very hard to read and to write. Looking over them again, the misery I felt at the time doesn't come back, except as a vague memory. It feels as if I am being told about something that has happened to someone else. I select them all, click delete, and they are gone.

2. Paper Dragons by James P. Blaylock. This story is heavy with mist and wet trees and waiting. It's about a man who is building a dragons from silk, oil, 'a spray of fine wire spun into a braid', silver scales, piano wire, copper and bones. And it's about a scientist camping on the cliffs waiting for a behemoth hermit crab, 'blind and gnarled from spectacular pressures'. And it's about suspecting -- but not knowing -- that there might be boney, beaky creatures floating unseen in cloud chasms. It's one of my favourite short stories; and every so often, I'll think of it and want to read it again. Tonight, while Katie cooks supper, I curl up on my sofa and read it.

3. Katie brings me a mug of hot chocolate to help keep out the cold.

4 comments:

  1. I'm so happy for your catharsis! Big hug!

    ... that short story sounds cool. maybe i'll check it out some time.

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  2. ah, hot chocolate, nothings better

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  3. Oh, if only other unpleasantries could be erased at the push of a button! Hot chocolate is a very good consolation, though.

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  4. See if you can find a copy of the children's book, Everyone Knows What a Dragon Looks Like. It's marvelous, but very difficult to find these days.

    I don't suppose you'd consider coming over here and deleting my emails for me? I can't seem to do it. ha ha.

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