flax-golden tales: sweet oblivion

sweet oblivion

sweet oblivion

They line up for it, in eager rows. It is an honor to be chosen. They are extremely patient and on their best behavior.

It is what they were made for, what they anxiously await with unblinking eyes.

One voice of dissent mutters that four dollars is too low a price, but he is ignored.

It is an honor to be chosen, regardless of price. They all know that the price is just a formality.

To have all thought, all cares obliviated by sticky sweetness.

Nothing matters after that. Nothing at all.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

minor things

I spent part of this morning changing the layout of the flax-golden tales page over on dreamwidth.org. They’ve added more layouts since I started posting over there and I think this is an improvement. It’s a bit crisper and I like the lighter background.

I have tomorrow’s tale all ready to post. I actually wrote it ages ago and had forgotten about it, and it kind of insisted on being posted this week.

I’m having kind of an off-kilter week. I blame the combination of the weather and Monday being crazy concerting day. Getting stuff done, but more in little bits and pieces than any major accomplishments.

I’ve had this window open for about an hour trying to think of something else to add. Clearly, there is nothing else and I should just go make myself a cup of tea.

on boston & tori

My feet hurt. But I am not particularly surprised by this considering I wandered around Boston most of the day yesterday and I desperately need new sandals because my old ones, while comfortable, are sort of falling apart and I think they’ve forgotten about a little thing called arch support.

Wandering around Boston reminded me that I don’t particularly miss living there, especially in the summer. I actually prefer Boston buried under winter slush to sweltering in that concrete-flavored heat.

We were in town for the day to see Tori Amos at the WhateverBankIt’sNamedAfterNow Pavilion, but we went in early and walked around and went to see Julie & Julia. I thought it was delightful, even beyond being a 2+ hour air conditioned respite from the weather. It’s a tad too long and made me desperately hungry, but overall I thought it was marvelous. I commented to the boy that it was fun to see a movie that felt like a romantic comedy but was about already established relationships and the romantic stuff wasn’t the core of the film. I can’t think of anything to compare it to, really, but I very much enjoyed it. A great deal of it is about writing, too. Recommended, but do yourself a favor and eat fist. I was crazy hungry afterward.

(After the movie we went to dinner, of course. Good, but not enough butter.)

We were pretty much melting by concert time, but Tori was all kinds of wonderful as usual. This was our sixth show, and we had better seats than we’ve ever had (17th row, dead center) and oddly most of the row in front of us was empty. The show was great, the encore was amazing and really, other than some nitpicky qualms about the setlist (we’d seen a fair deal of the same songs on the last tour and had been hoping for a bit more variety – setlist, for those wot care) and the thermal discomfort it was marvelous. Tori is simply stellar live. All the stuff from the new album was gorgeous. I’m running out of adjectives, but you likely get my point. Really, it’s difficult to write anything other than OMGILOVETORI and things about rocking socks. Not that I was wearing socks, but if I had been they would have been rocked.

Now I have that post-Tori depression where I rather desperately want to see her play again as soon as possible. And my feet hurt.

In other, less foot-hurting news: I spent a large portion of the weekend (and part of the wandering around in Bostonian hot yesterday) bouncing novel revision ideas off the boy and I think I’ve come up with a good handful of ideas worth pursuing. So I’m very pleased about that and I’m going to try to spend some time today and tomorrow outlining & organizing & letting the ideas simmer some more, and hopefully before long I’ll have a nicely seasoned revision stew to eat, or write. Analogies getting away from me again, tricksy things.

flax-golden tales: five easy steps

five easy steps

five easy steps

Fantastical Expeditions in Five (Comparatively) Easy Steps

1. Draw a ship. It is wise to add sails or oars for ease of travel.
2. Pack for your journey. Be sure to bring extra shoes, a towel, a lucky penny, and a journal to record your adventures.
3. Believe your ship is real.*
4. Climb aboard, very carefully.
5. Politely tell the ship to go wherever it wants to go.

*This is the most difficult step. Practice is recommended.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

flopsy yawning kitten sort of day

yawning tessa

Tessa looks how I feel right now. Maybe without the yawning. But she’s been sprawled out in front of the fan all day and I would really like to be able to do the same but I don’t think I’d fit on that table and I have work to do. Lucky kitten.

I know, I should have the a/c on when it’s this humid. But we’ve had such a mild summer that we haven’t put the air conditioners up. It’s really not that bad with the fans, but it’s uncomfortable enough that I don’t really feel like doing much and would rather flop like Tessa. But I’m trying to be good.

Tarot Queens are going slow, mostly because the humidity makes it hard to paint. I still should be able to finish them by the end of the week, the base layers are down already and they mostly need detailing.

There will be sharable news on the literary agent search soon. I’m still playing the waiting game so nothing is definite yet. I think I’m actually getting better at the waiting game because I stopped biting my nails and I don’t freak out quite so much every time I have new mail.

I am not a summer creature, despite being born in July. I’m craving autumn already, with crisp leaves and pumpkin spice lattes and apple picking and none of this horrid humidity.

flax-golden tales: the yarn merchant

yarn merchant

the yarn merchant

She spins her yarns from dreams and hopes and forgotten wishes on a wheel made of alder wood and dragon bone. She sells them every third Saturday at the market, unless there is no moon. Prices vary by color and content and valor of customer.

The yarns made with nightmares cost extra. Nightmare yarn is volatile and must be handled with great care.

If you are not worthy of her yarn she will turn you away, regardless of what you are willing to pay. She will appraise you in a single glance and there is no arguing with her once you have been dismissed with a wave of a many-ringed, wrinkled hand.

There are other places to purchase yarn at the market, and they have fine yarns, but nothing to compare with these.

Oh, the things that can be knit with these yarns! Provided you have proper needles.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.