Fan Fiction of the Day

The set-up: Katniss is returning to her car after a night class at her community college. And she gets held up by, of all people, PEETA! PEETA! PEETA! Who is a criminal trying to feed a drug habit! Oh my Lord! What? What? What?

. . .  the air smells sweet and fresh, like growth. The street lamps that line my path from the library to my car are dim at best, and there’s no moonlight because there’s a storm on its way. I don’t even have a shadow; I’m followed instead by the restless wind that stirs in the freshly-leafed trees.

Self loves the descriptions!

It really is spring in this part of the world.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Stonehenge Appears Off California Highway 1 Near Pacifica

From self’s short short “Stonehenge/Pacifica” (published in Wigleaf):

The whole rose, majestically, from the waves. I had seen this stone monument before, in a photograph in some book. Water sluiced over the massive grey stones, which had a greenish tinge, as though layered with many centuries of moss. The mighty pillars were pitted with hollows.

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DEEP SOUTH: Eutaw

An encounter in Eutaw:

“You’re late,” the woman said. “Why are you late?”

And then she proceeds to give Theroux such a deep-freeze, icy reception and tongue-lashing that he ends up apologizing three times, and saying things like

  • I’m grateful to you for seeing me on such short notice.
  • I was distracted by: 1. Back roads. 2. Groves of trees. 3. Golden fields. 4. Cotton bursting open.
  • I’m only fifteen minutes late.

Paul Theroux, I would advise never returning to the town of Eutaw.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

More Theroux: DEEP SOUTH, Atomic Road

That is a great name for a country road. Especially one in the Deep South. Lucky for Paul Theroux, he found it. And was not deterred by a sentry outside a “big fence” who told him, in no uncertain terms, Get lost!

No, what the sentry actually told Theroux was, “Turn your car around, sir, and keep going.”

Same thing. There’s nothing more freezing sometimes than that oh-so-stoic American politeness.

And then Theroux writes:

. . .  in the South I traveled in eccentric circles, in and out of the fourth dimension, always hopeful, making plans to return, and saying to myself, as I did that day on Atomic Road: I’ll be back.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

This Conversation

Self was in Oxford.

Oxford, as in UK.

The year she got shortlisted for the Saboteur Awards.

Funny, that was also her first visit to Ireland.

In fact, she was IN Ireland when she got the e-mail from her publisher. In Florida.

“Oh,” self e-mailed. “I don’t think I can make it to Oxford, Mississippi. Because, I’m in Ireland.”

And her publisher said, “Well, if you’re in Ireland, I think that’s a lot closer to Oxford than where I am.”

And self thought, Huh, that’s funny.

Then she got an e-mail from the Saboteur Awards people, giving her directions on getting to Oxford. Which included going to London, then taking a train . . .

Wait. London. Train.

HOLY COW YOU CANNOT BE TELLING HER SHE WAS UP FOR A BRITISH AWARD?

Like hell, she said!

Anyhoo, she wound up in Oxford, UK. Drinking champagne, thank you very much. A young woman comes up to self, introduces herself as a Ph.D. student from Oxford. Oxford University, not Oxford as in Oxford, Mississippi. LOL.

The young woman asks self what she does to relax.

Self doesn’t even have to think about it: “I write Fan Fiction.”

And this young woman, this doctoral candidate in Oxford University, doesn’t bat an eyelash. She comes right back at self with: “Which universe?”

And self goes: “Hunger Games. Everlark.”

And that is the honest truth.

Stay tuned.

“Can You Explain Trump? Please?”

“Ooof,” self says, waving her hands dismissively. “Don’t worry about him! American voters aren’t as dumb as you think.”

Then self opens The New York Times digital edition today and sees:

DONALD TRUMP SWEEPS FIVE STATES; HILLARY CLINTON TAKES FOUR.

Everything starts moving in slow motion: her fingers wander to the half-full bottle of pinot noir in her kitchen. She wonders if there’s ever a time when it’s a good idea to excuse herself from an election. Like, say, I GOT LOST IN RURAL IRELAND!  or BRIGADOON HAD ME AT HELLO!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

Sylvain Landry Week 41 Photo Challenge: Incongruous

Self loves the incongruous.

Which is the theme of this week’s Sylvain Landry Photo Challenge.

Here’s her entry: a book in The Last Bookstore in downtown Los Angeles:

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Incongruous in The Last Bookstore, S. Spring Street, Downtown Los Angeles

Thanks once again to Sylvain Landry, whose prompts always pull something unexpected from self’s photo archives.

Stay tuned.

Bowie: Lyrics, “Life on Mars”

Sailors fighting in the dance-hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go
It’s the freakiest show.

— David Bowie, “Life on Mars”

This is a pretty freakish year.

Just because. First, Bowie and now

Prince

“When Doves Cry” — Aaargh, aaaargh, be still, self’s beating heart!

It’s too much.

Last week, in Heathrow, eating a sandwich and waiting for her flight to Dublin, her ears pricked up as Bowie came over the piped-in sound system: LIFE ON MARS.

What. An. Incredible. Song.

And, like today, SAAAAAAD.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Tarzan Peeta Part 2: Finnick Tries Flirting

Her thoughts drifted back to the mysterious man that had saved her (from drowning) earlier that day. She really hadn’t stopped thinking about him at all since he’d run into the tropical forest like a mad man, wearing her orange sundress. The vision of it made Katniss’s laughter bubble up . . .

“You liked that one, Kitty?” Finnick asked, catching Katniss by surprise.

Her laughter subsided at the pet name he’d coined for her as soon as they’d met on the plane. She stared at him a moment, willing the scowl to stay behind the delicate mask of merriment. She had to play along, knowing she couldn’t tell any of the men about her savior. At least, not yet. Not until she knew more about him. Why was he on the island. Where he came from . . .

Can you believe anyone finding Finnick tiresome?

LOL.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

What Is This Bird?

When her camera’s shutter stopped opening all the way, last week, self made an immediate decision to keep using it until it absolutely went bonkers.

Must say, it’s been leading to some interesting shots.

Such as this one from this morning: she took it from the window seat of her cottage in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Annaghmakerrig:

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Sparrow? Shrike? Robin? Warbler?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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