flemmings | Something Missing

I suppose anything 750 pages long wll leave its mark somewhere, though I notice my only reaction to finishing the equally lengthy Order of the Phoenix was Thank God that's over. But for three days now I find myself melancholy in the evening because there's no Perdido Street Station to read any more. However last night I found an unexpected antidote for Perdido's lingering mental images in, of all things, Chi-Ran's Imagine. That's a fast manga read with no surprises that's sat on my shelf for a decade, that I've unconsciously avoided because the seme looks like he's wearing blood-red lipstick, and that I only took down so as to be able to read and toss, as Thursday night I read and tossed the short story collection The Doom that Came to Sarnoth. Lovecraft is far far worse than I'd remembered-- than I could have imagined even. Gaseous bloat brings wincing annoyance around here, not frissons of horror. For that I need phrases like 'white hopping thing' aarghh whimper whimper *covers eyes*.

Also missing, evidently, is journalfen. Not being able to read the wank communities is probably like not having bags of chocolate chip cookies in the house: virtuous but dull.

I use my pissy red dragon icon the way the Lady of the Camellias used her red camellias, as warning to the world that les Anglais se sont debarqués and I am in, well, a pissy red mood. Sorry,

tammylee.

More happily, I was listening to Phil Collins the other day and came across It's Not Too Late. Having totally mondegreened the first line into 'Jelly rolling for the time' I had no idea who the he in question (one of the he's) was and got an image of some Akama kind of youkai murmuring outside people's doors or whispering smiling poison into newborn's ears, encouraging them to despair and die because well, hell, the human condition is nothing but despair and death anyway, right?

Which is nice, and might even turn into a story, and rather reminds me of Mischief in Skelton's Magnifycence, urging the young prince to suicide. (Magnificence is a neat play to see acted and if you're into words, back in the days before words got settled and middle-class, it's also a fun read.)

MISCHIEF. And I, Mischief, am comen at need,
Out of thy life thee for to lead.
And look that it be not long
Ere that thyself thou go hong
With this halter good and strong;
Or else with this knife, cut out a tongue
Of thy throat-bowl, and rid thee out of pain.
Thou art not the first himself hath slain.
Lo, here is thy knife and a halter! and, ere we go further,
Spare not thyself, but boldly thee murther.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ahahaha! I picked up PSS today at the library...and that copy is more than 750 pages long...bbbut I'm so excited ...a broken angsty garuda! And yes the landscape doesn't so much as move but positively oozes, industrial icor rotting at brick and concrete and the Remades are horrifying to imagine... and thank you for the rec...so far I'm enjoying the ride and trying to think what if I could see with a compound eye...and of course that would give anyone a headache, trying to squint, shut one eye and scrunch up my face at the same time. we'll see if I can go the distance. ^_^

meanwhile..yeah I find myself battling laundry zombie-youkai...ideal conditions for reading PSS to at 2:47 am...adds to the atmosphere...probably?

The laundry zombie youkai probably walks the streets of New Crobazon- in fact, probably inhabits MR James' world of white hopping things as well. If I think of James' (utterly terrifying to me, even now) amorphous entity made of sheets from the bed with the vague traces of features caused by the wrinkling of the sheets as, guess what, a laundry zombie youkai, I... actually feel much better about it. There. Oh Whistle and I'll Come to Ye, My Lad is a metaphor for housework, of which solid Edwardian gentlemanly James knew nothing.

Rereading the opening of PSS I discovered that Mieville was pulling a fast one in that first section, giving you an outsider's view. The city's buildings don't actually ooze gummy viscous secretions themselves. You find out later where some of that ooze comes from. The half-machine Remade are terrifying: more so because they also, on reflection, remind me of Thomas the Tank Engine (yes yes, way to ruin a childhood classic.) Others clearly evoked those many anime characters whose arms are weapons, up to and including the pacifist Vash the Stampede. There's a real odd overlap between Mieville and, well, the mental world a manga/ anime fan is familiar with.

And yes, the angsty garuda is cool. His too infrequent soliloquies provide a corrective to the main character's view of himself and the world.

The half-machine Remade are terrifying: more so because they also, on reflection, remind me of Thomas the Tank Engine Oh dear, I don't think I'll be able to sing-along-Thomas & riends quite so happily now! ^_~

Mention of Lovecraft...made me think of the landscape itself being Cuthlu-ish, dark, oozy and as many arms that want to pull and pick at your feet as you walk the streets of New Crobuzon..and eeh! Lovecraftis NOT what I want to be thinking about at 3 in the morning, when the world is silent and still except for the rumble of the washing machine!

G'night m dear...*runs of to get last load out as fast as she can!* ^__^

Haha! That's okay? ^_^
I think a red dragon is an appropriate warning!

LOL! Imagine was the first one of that author I'd ever seen. I love the lipstick and the art... and it is indeed a pretty straight forward story.

Something Missing

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oh dear Darian's beloved train series????

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