Okay, this one I like. Admittedly, all the heavy lifting was done by real artists. And it is a squids-in-space pic. Still. Kind of nifty for forty-five seconds' work.
While the battle between good and evil was reaching its climax, that between truth and beauty was just getting nasty.
What can you do to fight terrorism? You yourself, I mean. To fight real terrorism.
Refuse to be terrorized. Live your life as you would without terrorism.
D & S -- Russets, reds, & umbers -- with here and there [intricacy?] of gold. Needlework.
"That was my first wife's dress."
She looked down on her admittedly admirable figure. "It fits me perfectly. She must have been a very beautiful woman."
From any other woman, the words would have sounded boastful. [Something]
"Yes," he managed, "she was."
Bob told me he'd stopped by to say goodbye. That he had a gig in California that could be the start of a real career and was leaving tomorrow. That his band had achieved "every white rock band's dream and hired a black female back-up singer." And that he'd retooled "I Am the Walrus" as a slow romantic number.
Back then, understand, nobody did covers of Beatles songs. The very idea was blasphemous. It was like writing your own American Constitution or revamping the Ten Commandments. But Bob the Musician had done exactly that.
In heaven's name, I asked. Why?
Bob the Musician smiled. "I just wanted to see yuppies slow-dancing to me singing 'Yellow-matter custard dripping from a dead dog's eye,'" he said.
Then he hoisted his guitar and left.
Thirty seconds later, the diner's owner came over and said, "Do you know that guy you were talking to? He left without paying his bill."
"I never saw him before in my life," I said.
... "Love Me, Do" in a slow and serene manner, and at the break genially scolded the audience for not getting that it was supposed to be funny.
I can't speak for the rest of the audience -- maybe they were boobs, I don't know -- but personally I listened raptly because her rendition had an unearthly purity I found entrancing. It put me in mind of another slowed-down Beatles standard which I've never actually heard but I've remembered fondly for decades.
It was back in the Seventies -- probably '76 -- and I was sitting in a diner having a cup of coffee and a doughnut one afternoon when another diner moved his plate and cup and sat down beside me. It was Bob the Musician. I knew Bob's last name, mind you, and still do, but back then, when I as young, it was just sensible policy not to refer to anybody by their full, traceable moniker. So Bob the Musician he was. ...
I enjoyed it. She enjoyed it. He enjoyed it too. All eight of us enjoyed it. In the morning Chuck made great mountains of scrambled eggs. Then we broke out the champagne. When Dan became a candidate for president, suddenly that evening became a big deal.
Listen. We did it. We're not ashamed. We'd do it with anybody and not be ashamed. Sex is natural. Sex is beautiful. There is nothing wrong with people pleasing each other with their bodies. Let me repeat it: We would do it with everybody.
Except you, of course.
The cockroach will outlive us all --
So everybody say.
Why I should care this, being dead,
Is more than I can -- hey!
When all the human race is gone
Extinct and am no more,
Then surely no one can complain
That this poem neither scans nor rhymes.
There is always music in the house of love. Sometimes it is so quiet that you have to close your eyes and still your heart to hear it. Sometimes it is absolutely silent. But it is always there.
Ships came and went in the harbor. Jugglers sang in the street.
An Anecdote That Starts Out Looking Like It's Going to be About Janis Ian But Which is Actually About Bob the Musician
Last Friday I went to hear Janis perform at the Sellarsville Theatre. Good show. At one point, though, she began to say
1. Mr. S. explains the workings of a Gatling gun to the Queen of the Fairies
2. The Seely Court finds Swanwick guilty of crimes against the imagination
3. A sad scene as Mr. S. is executed by a combination of electrocution and the ringing of church bells
4. Acting on a tip, the Bunko Squad opens Swanwick's tomb and finds only a half-eaten bag of chips and an old Ace Special
5. The old trickster is spotted in a bar in Perth Amboy, enjoying a Boodles martini, very dry, straight up, with a twist, in the company of a certain redhead
Open: In a land mine field
Open: In a birth control clinic
Open: In the President's bedroom
Open: On Europa
Open: Seventeen hours into your shift as an intern
Open: On Sixth Avenue, carrying a Shakespeare second folio
Open: On a chicken ranch, weeping
Open: Two feet off the side of a major bridge
Open: In a war zone
Open: In a high school
Open: In the Recursive Postmodern School of Ironic Self-Metaphor
Introduction, Jonathan Strahan
“Slow as a Bullet”, Andy Duncan
“Tidal Forces”, Caitlin R. Kiernan
“The Beancounter’s Cat”, Damien Broderick
“Story Kit”, Kij Johnson
“The Man in Grey”, Michael Swanwick
“Old Habits”, Nalo Hopkinson
“The Vicar of Mars”, Gwyneth Jones
“Fields of Gold”, Rachel Swirsky
“Thought Experiment”, Eileen Gunn
“The Double of My Double Is Not My Double”, Jeffrey Ford
“Nine Muses”, Emma Bull
“Dying Young”, Peter M Ball
“The Panda Coin”, Jo Walton
“Tourists”, James Patrick Kelly
Something terrible had happened. Linnea did not know what it was. But her father had looked pale and worried, and her mother had told her, very fiercely, "Be brave!" and now she had to leave, and it was all the result of that terrible thing.
Sadness rules the world. The first time ever I found myself in New York City as an adult, I found myself cold and walking down the city streets, staring up at the hundreds of lighted windows above me and thinking that if you could lift the buildings and shake them, all the pain in the world would sift out. The older you are, the more pain shows on your face. When an old man smiles, it's all the sweeter for the melancholy beneath.
Today is the new yesterday. Tuesday is the new tomorrow.
With genetic engineering, sharks can not only walk on land, but go door to door selling cosmetics or encyclopedias.
1) sun cros[s?]
2) [two arches]
3) urh green angel
5) [three arches] /"Hush"
6) [picture of a house]
7) sorrow in chains
8) pleasant graveyard
9) dark angel
11) other dark angel
12) bright angel