This week I am curled up in corners with blankets, reading and writing and reading some more.
Tessa is “helping.”
Am not quite on an internet hiatus, but I have a lot of non-internet things vying for my attention (including Tessa) so blog posts about shiny objects and various other subjects shall have to wait for now.
piano player
I stopped trying to explain why I wanted a player piano, even though everyone asked, including the piano movers.
They probably figured it was meant to be a curiosity piece and not an instrument.
“You already have a great stereo, lady,” one of the movers said when they were leaving.
I just shrugged.
It’s different, the way a real piano echoes. The way the sound reverberates in the air.
No recording can sound like real keys and hammers and strings right there in the room.
And learning to play a standard piano myself would defeat the purpose.
This way, I can pretend he still plays “Clair de Lune” for me.
If I close my eyes, it’s almost the same.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
I still have tons of things to post about but some of them require photographs that I haven’t taken yet.
Also, am baffled that it’s March already. But March brings Sleep No More, and therefore I welcome it wholeheartedly, even in my skepticism about the passing of time.
I have been petting my shiny, shiny ARCs. A few have scampered off to new homes already, and the fates of the remaining ones are being pondered. I have ideas but I need to see how practical they’ll be to execute.
I spent part of the weekend painting, because I haven’t painted anything in ages and I had new old sheet music to play with.
They’re a companion series to a trio of paintings I did last year called music for the apocalypse. This bunch is music for the apocalypse part II: nocturnes. They should be up on Etsy by the end of the week.
Other than that I’m all reading, writing & waiting for the snow to melt while I slowly work my way through my ever-growing to-do list.
There are photos of shiny objects forthcoming, too.
I received a rather rained-on cardboard box this morning.
This is what was inside:
These are Advance Reader Copies of THE NIGHT CIRCUS. Commonly referred to as ARCs, which I’m still not entirely sure stands for Advanced Reading or Advance Reader or some combination thereof. I’m pretty certain that the C is for Copy, though. Even though these say “Edition” on the front.
They’re hard to photograph because all of the silver is metallic and shiny. They’re really gorgeous, and this isn’t even the final cover.
I have been dying to share a look at the interior design ever since saw a preview of it ages ago, because I absolutely adore it, and now I have permission to share.
I’d tell you I love it so much because I think it’s evocative of both the Stargazer and the bonfire, but that wouldn’t make sense to that many of you yet. Ah well.
I only have ten copies so I am thinking very carefully about what to do with each one. There will likely be some sort of contest/giveaway at some point.
And I kind of want to leave one in some mysterious location somewhere and give clues to find it. Maybe after the snow melts.
zombie snow squirrels on the rampage
“There is no such thing as a zombie snow squirrel,” I say, even though he has his serious eyebrows on. Normally the eyebrows are a good indicator as to whether or not he’s kidding.
“You don’t get out much, do you?” he asks, rhetorical because he knows the answer. “The squirrels go mad from lack of acorns and too much snow and when they can’t take it anymore they go into this sort of undead coma thing and then they rampage.”
“They rampage?”
“Yeah. Rampaging zombie snow squirrels are always a problem this time of year. I can get you a slingshot if you don’t have one. It’s a halfway decent way to fend them off unless you get ambushed.”
I wait for him to laugh, but he doesn’t.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
