Last night I dreamed I stole a pair of mechanical wings from a tank/bunker that was covered with large slugs. They were black with neon purple and pink detailing and when I put them on I flew up higher than the buildings and when I dove down I was not afraid of falling.
The wings stayed with me. They didn’t break or disappear. I flew and I wasn’t afraid even when they started shooting at me.
Usually when I dream about climbing or flying I fall and the falling is painful and I wake up with heart palpitations and panic. But not this time. It was a really awesome dream.
Photo by Wilmer Martinez on Unsplash
the cat is still alive and we are together, still breathing.
i want to delete everything and start over
make something waterproof
and strong as guitar strings
(not too strong)
bonds need to break
to make energy, the season needs
i am not waiting, i am running towards it. i’m so
pre-emptive i rush right past it
i can’t breathe
i want to buy a new purse, new
sinus cavities, new
i want to spend all my money on sleep
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
I don’t do a lot of traditional book reviews and this isn’t going to be one of them, I guess, more like thoughts on the book while explaining why I think it’s so great. Maybe that is a traditional review. Whatever. It’s morning and I’m not awake yet.
So I’m re-reading the ENTIRE Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series from book one to infinity because I last stopped reading the series at book 13 (or something, can’t remember) and got into other things and then Laurell K. Hamilton’s Merry Gentry series.
By the time I wanted to pick the Anita books up again I’d forgotten half of what happened and knew I needed to start from the very beginning to get the full immersive experience.
I picked up Guilty Pleasures back in January and I was going to try to finish all of them by the end of this year. Seeing as it’s already August and I’ve just started book 4, I probably won’t.
But I wanted to talk about what I’ve read so far, specifically in the context of how art imitates life and how I connected with the second book in the Anita Blake series, The Laughing Corpse.
Trigger warning: Don’t read below the cut if you don’t want spoilers or expositions on violence, gore, and rape in literature.
Continue reading “Reading The Laughing Corpse by Laurell K. Hamilton”
“On August 6 in 1945, the a-bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. I was a fourteen year old student. But I didn’t go to school. Instead. I worked in a factory.”
So writes Yasuhiko Shigemoto at the end of his second haiku collection, commemorating the bombing of Hiroshima 74 years ago.
The poems within are devastating, haunting, and viscerally beautiful.
This is why poetry exists.
A-Bomb Dome photo credit
(Note: This was a phone conversation. I collect books, Mr. J collects guns. We’d listened to the audiobook last year and this year finished the audiobook of Wise Man’s Fear. It took me forever to convince Mr. J that he would like it.)
Mr. J: I bought another copy of The Name of the Wind.
Me: Did you get the 10th anniversary edition or the illustrated edition?
Mr. J: I don’t know. It’s a book.
Me: Does it say “illustrated” on the cover?
Mr. J: I don’t know, it has pictures on it.
Me: That doesn’t help me. Does it say “illustrated?”
Mr. J: It has words on it.
Me: What words?
Mr. J: I don’t remember I didn’t look at the cover.
Me: How could you not look at the cover?
Mr. J: Books are complicated. Guns are easier.
Me: (laughs) I’m putting that on a t-shirt for you.