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.


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

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

  2. ah, hot chocolate, nothings better

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

  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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