Off the Cliff

The rain outside is doing its raineth every day thing. Put out my garbage early but not the dead vacuum, given there's no guarantee they'll take it.

Have finished Reaper Man, a couple of Angela Marchmont mysteries, a John Norman, probably a Lorac but don't ask me which (I Could Murder Her, actually), and Daemons of the Shadow Realm 5, an e-book hold which came in today and pooh to your 'about two weeks.' Violent and lowering as ever. Am reading another Lorac and Trent's Own Case, a reread because I remember nothing of it and want to stick it in a Wee Free Library. Have two more Loracs in transit and think maybe I should do a massive reread of Rainy Willow Store before my Japanese vanishes entirely.

So yahoo groups is closing in December and deleting all their content. I'm half tempted to use one of the download devices to save bits of AMLA and the Saiyuki mls, but those belong to a past so distant that even Lot's wife me isn't sure she wants to be reminded of it. Especially AMLA, which was lovely talky fun in the day but now is probably embarrassing in its revelation of our ignorance.

Odd thunderstorm early this morning, sounding exactly like garbage bins being rolled out. No sudden crashes or cracks, never got very loud, but woke me all the same and may account for my extreme tiredness and aches today, in spite of massage. Or maybe that was the rain that continued to midafternoon. Or maybe it's the sleep apnea I'm sure I have but don't want to know about.
( Cut for reading Wednesday )

September does this occasionally, the sudden hot spell just as the leaves are turning and the first cold nights start you thinking about furnaces or at least space heaters. After last night's prolonged thunderstorm and monsoon rains blew in a warm front, today was 28C and blistering in the sun, though breezy and pleasant enough in the shade. But as ever, high heat and humidity make me feel like a water-logged bag o' flesh, and everything hurts all the time. It's supposed to thunder again tonight and return us to a high of 19C tomorrow, but I doubt if that's enough to debloat me, if the chilly weekend didn't manage it.

However the daycare top-up, which our (speaking of bloated) smug thug of a premier was supposed to cancel, came in today, and I have 600-some extra dollars I wasn't expecting, so yay for that.

Reading-wise, I managed to finish Roger Lancelyn-Green's Myths of the Norsemen in a battered copy from the Front Lawn Library, read to remind me what the canon of it actually is before I go on, if I ever go on, to the Eddas themselves. What happened to my childhood copy of Norse Myths and Legends with the black and white Beardsley-inspired illustrations? Oh, it's Padraic Collum's The Children of Odin, and here's the bit I remember where Loki eats the witch's heart. Mh. Maybe I won't read the Eddas after all. I don't care for trickster gods, and the rest of the Aesir are prime examples of Men (or gods) Behaving Badly.

Currently working on Kari Sperring's The Grass King's Concubine, which is fun but doesn't need to be as slow as it is. I'm even skimmimg bits, which I rarely do. My downstairs reading, for as long as it lasts, is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Purple Hibiscus, because I'm not sure how much I can take of abusive Nigerian Catholic paterfamiliases.

And there's still lots of Rainy Willow, though vol15 isn't quite up to the heights of 14.

In last night's washy, blowy and ultimately thunderous non-coolness (low of 20C) I turned on the window AC and slept fitfully, because even the AC wasn't as dry as I needed it to be. This morning, with the world looking much more solid- the wash having washed out of the air in the extremely heavy rain that accompanied the 2 a.m. cracks of thunder- I put on a tshirt, went out, and immediately came back for a jacket. Should have worn a long sleeved shirt as well or a fleecy, because a dry wind blowing on a cloudy day makes 18C feel much much cooler. And tonight I ponder flannel sheets under me and maybe sleep pants as well, because an autumn feel is in the air. Of course, mid afternoon in the sun was blazing hot, but that is the essence of the September season.

In the evenings I read a chapter or two of Rainy Willow, the sweet days of late Meiji and early Taishou, the akogare of objects longing for their owners as, possibly, the owners, all these ex-hatamoto descendants, long for the settled days of the Shogunate and the certainties of a life gone by. Not that noble families are shown in a sympathetic light in flashback: it's all sacrifice for the clan and stiff-lipped gamaning. But maybe for commoners and middle class, that departed order remains as a reassuring memory even as they enjoy the new freedoms of the present, with their new anxieties and uncertainties.

Did anything like that ever happen here? A complete upheaval of society that didn't involve millions of dead? Upheavals we've had, but a whole social reordering at the behest of TPTB, no, I don't think so. Japan's done it twice, though the second time was as ghastly for them as WW1 for Europe.

In the alley the buyers come and go
Talking of downspouts and subflooring and soffit and fascia and and and

Many agents showing many people the house next door. Buyers will learn the interesting acoustics of cheek-by-jowl downtown housing soon enough.

Accuweather confidently predictd thunderstorms at 2pm and were out by only an hour ie just as I was emerging from massage. Got soaked of course, but as the lightning came closer I ducked into the local KFC to wait it out. Which was fine: I'd been jonesing for hot chicken anyway. It's a combined Colonel's and Taco Bell, but the Taco Bell machinery was closed for servicing, as announced by a sign on the door, a sign at the cash, and the removal of the Taco Bell menu items from the overhead boards. This led to tantrums from a woman who came in after me, who ordered Fries Supreme and was aghast when the clerk said she didn't have them, pointing to the cash register sign. 'But why didn't anyone tell me!?' Stupidity I can bear, having stupid moments myself, but stupidity and rudeness is flat unnecessary.

Have been indulging in retail therapy of the online variety. The last three Rainy Willow manga are coming from Japan, sweet reminder of another and arguably better time. Then last night I stumbled on KateNepveu's post about embroidery sets. Incapable of learning embroidery from books, I've long been looking for another beginner's embroidery set of the kind I had ten years ago and never found again. But here's a woman in France who does pretty patterns and can send you whole kits, complete with wooden hoops (not plastic likemy present ones.) So a set of those is on the way, and maybe I'll learn at last how chainstitch and plain stitch are supposed to work.

She lives in the beautifully named region of Mauzé-sur-le-Mignon in Nouvelle-Aquitaine. I'd never heard of Nouvelle-Aquitaine, not surprisingly, since it didn't exist before 2014. Takes in a huge chunk of the s-w, from Poitiers down to Bayonne, taking in my old stamping grounds of Pau. Being unable to remember where Vieux Aquitaine had been, I googled and discovered this lovely piece of background:

The region's interim name Aquitaine-Limousin-Poitou-Charentes was a hyphenated placename, known as ALPC, created by hyphenating the merged regions' names – Aquitaine, Limousin and Poitou-Charentes – in alphabetical order.

In June 2016, a working group headed by historian Anne-Marie Cocula , a former vice president of Aquitaine, proposed the name "Nouvelle Aquitaine". The decision came after the popular favorite, "Aquitaine", faced resistance by regional politicians from Limousin and Poitou-Charentes. The other popular favorite, "Grande Aquitaine," was rejected for its connotation with a feeling of superiority. Alain Rousset, president of the region, concurred with the working group's conclusion, reaffirming that he considered the acronym "ALPC" no choice at all. For those deploring the loss of "Limousin" and "Poitou-Charentes", he noted that the predecessor region of Aquitaine subsumed the identities of the Périgord or the Pays Basque, which did not disappear during its 40 years of operation.

"The other popular favorite, "Grande Aquitaine," was rejected for its connotation with a feeling of superiority." Oh dear, oh dear.

Sunday I went to Fiesta Farms and bought lettuce and zucchini seeds. I soaked them in water overnight, which they say gives late seeds a bit of an edge, and planted them in the swimming pool on Monday. Tuesday God watered them, or possibly drowned them-- the rain this summer is either none or in excess. We shall see how they fare. Equally this evening my two doors north neighbour decided this was a good time to uproot the gargantuan lavender bushes that overspill her front boxes, and as she'd promised them to me, I planted them in my front garden next to the sidewalk, where they might get sun. 'Keep watering them,' my neighbour advised. 'All the first year. Even if you think they're dead, they'll come back next year.' We shall see.
( July reading )

It has been A Week, and isn't over yet. But still. I came home late last night after class, opened front door, and a box fell out from between that and the screen door. 'Huh? Can't be my bk1 order; SAL takes 2-3 weeks and they only got the thing filled last week sometime.' No, not my bk1 order. Two chubby red dragons, one holding a treasure bag and the other a treasure ship is it? They are currently brightening up my front room study. Thank you rasetsunyo!
( Continung... )

Why memory is not to be trusted.

Some years ago incandescens sent me vols 1-9 of Hatsu Akiko's Strange Tales of the Rainy Willow Store. I have happy memories of sitting on a bench outside the local Blahblah's supermarket, sipping one of their lattes and reading Strange Meiji Tales. Now when would that have been, I wondered? Not 2002-- that summer was too hot and I was reading Hi Izuru. Mid-2003, more likely, a grey coolish and *very* rainy spring. (Roof sprang a leak and flooded the bedroom. These things one doesn't forget.) Then I thought, check the relevant folder in Outlook Express, why not? Did.

Mid-December 2003. A cold and snowy winter, as I also well recall, because the snow very kindly stopped in February when I had my tum cut open and was no longer able to shovel it. I never sat outside Blahblah's in the cool grey, sipping lattes and reading Rainy Willow, in spite of the fact that I can so clearly see me doing it.

Had flu over the weekend that left me physically and mentally delicate. Yesterday mostly I slept and then had a light serving of Hatsu Akiko. Today, in the mood for something more nourishing, I started Kohri no Mamono and zipped through a tank and a half. Err, well, so much for nourishing. Light stuff, goes down nicely, not an immense amount of substance to date. (Truly, manga where the hero asks himself every other page why he should care until the startling revelation many many pages along that OMG HE CARES!!! are um just a touch been-there-done-that, no?) Most distinguishing feature so far was me thinking for a tank and a half that the demon's name was Brad.

Went for a walk in the grey dank and came home in the mood for more Woxin. ( Cut for spoilerish comments )

Four stories in the latest 100 Demons, because the first one is a 60+ pager. Two of them I've read: the one published in the Hyakki Yakou special anthology and the one in the Nov '06 Nemuki, because I was buying Nemuki earlier this year in my Hyakki Yakki hunger. Next tank, if there are 5 stories as is usual, I'll have read three of them. And on balance-- yeah, tanks are better than monthly.
( Naze nara )

To paraphrase Dorothy Parker, the affair between Hatsu Akiko and Edwardian/ Meiji will live as one of the prettiest love stories in all literature. Have just finished her Chinese Bird, one in the 'Gorgeous England' series. How she does love her English aristocrats and country houses and hobble skirted ladies, and how charming they look through her 'never been to England can't stand to travel' lens. I mean that without irony. If a period and an artist were made for each other, it's those two. Edwardian England had its own unpleasant traits, but Hatsu-sensei's kind eye doesn't see them. And her gardens are softly green and her men are gentlemen and her women are ladies and love conquers all, just as it should. (And here are some useful Parker quotes at need.
( The Shekwan Mudmen )

Have finished Rainy Willow Store 11, which I like better than 10 if only because it's all strange happenings and not master forgers. Also it has a story involving Japanese gardenias, which are called kuchinashi, no mouths. ( Cut for cultural/ botanical natter )

I'm back to being of two minds about getting a Nemuki subscription, because the Rainy Willow stories work better for me in tankoubon than as one offs in a magazine. Read one after another, their dreamy other-worldly atmosphere (which for me is otherworldly by virtue of being Meiji, not for being about ghosts and the spirit of objects) gently surrounds the senses like a soft misty rainy day. Soft misty is also not a Torontonian topos; and while I sometimes missed the hard light and the hard water of Ontario when I was in Japan (as I do when I'm in Vancouver or Halifax, for that matter) I equally and occasionally miss the washy ink-and-water feel of Japan when I'm here.
( Cut for writing thoughts )

Reading Tales from the Rainy Willow Antique Store #10. A return to simple Japanese as well as simple lapidary stories. A pleasant change after Ima's multi-plot multi-thread narrative technique- qui est jolie aussi- but which cries to me for crossovers between the two series. Especially this tank, in which Ren keeps running over things which are so much Kagyuu's specialty.

And I would cross them over- young Kagyuu meets middle-aged Ren, supposing Ren ages: but for a small problem. As far as I can extrapolate, in Ima's world WW2 didn't happen. This makes for difficulties when trying to map RL history onto manga reality, the primary one being just *when* did Kagyuu grow up and marry? ( Cut for Holmesian- or is it Watsonian?- speculation )