Still Stirring

Merry Xmas, lovelies. I'm posting this late December 24th as a morning present for all of you (I realize some of you will be quite occupied tomorrow, and won't get this present until later... but it's the thought that counts, yes?).

I’m feeling mushy and sentimental. I've been like this for a couple of days now, hopelessly romantic in outlook. I'm enjoying it. I should read some Connie Willis-- stuff with happy endings, like "Blued Moon." Not stuff like "Chance."

Last night I saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with D., who is half-Chinese. At the end, I turned to him and said "Why come you people can't have a story with a happy ending?"

"It's just our way," he replied.

I have lots of thoughts about the closing of the year; about endings, and beginnings, and looking forward and back, and about arbitrariness, and resolutions... But this doesn't seem quite the time for writing about that. I'll wait until it's closer to New Year's. Though in truth I find this whole week before New Year's to be a time of reflection, a space hanging between the end of one year and the beginning of another. That's what this holiday means to me. It's a time to assess things, and to look forward hopefully. Winter is when we need hope the most.

I went for a walk just a little while ago. There's a bite in the air, which is nice. It feels like winter, for once. Everything's closed up tight (even the Saturn, which is a shame; I had a hankering for cheese fries). It's like the proverbial Xmas-eve, with not a creature stirring. I expected to feel lonely tonight, but I don't, not really. I have my books, my thoughts, these words here. They keep me interested, so I don't have time to be lonely. Tomorrow D. is coming over, and we'll be Xmas orphans together. We're making shrimp scampi and lasagna and garlic bread. Hardly traditional holiday fare, I know, but it's a menu with great significance for me and D. We lived together for years, and regularly hosted dinner parties, almost always with that menu or a similar one. It'll be a delicious comfort. We rented a simply scandalous number of movies. At our video store of choice it's actually cheaper to rent five videos than it is to rent three (they have a weird 5 for $5 special every day), and because of holiday largesse (and because I made a funny joke) the clerk threw in another rental for free. So we have Fright Night and Ghost Story and The Grifters and Queens Logic and Pretty in Pink and Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid. I won't tell you which ones we chose initially and which ones we grabbed at the last second. Nor will I tell you which ones I chose and which ones D. chose. Let our tastes remain mysterious in the particulars, at least. We'll stuff ourselves, and watch movies, and maybe play chess, if D. is so inclined. We'll exchange gifts and listen to Counting Crows.

Speaking of movies: I didn't rent A Miracle on 34th Street because I figured it'd be easy to find. And indeed, tonight I saw an advertisement for it, and tuned in at the appointed time. At first I thought I was watching the colorized version, and while that's an abomination, it's a tolerable one. Then I realized it wasn't the original Miracle, but the remake with Richard Attenborough as Kris. And while the remake isn't bad, it wasn't what I wanted, either. It's just different enough to irritate me. So I turned it off and read for a while. Alas. I can see A Christmas Story 12 times in a row on TNT if I want to, but I can't find the original Miracle. It's enough to make me bah and humbug. Not that Christmas Story is bad. But there's a question of balance, here. They never show A Wish for Wings That Work, either. Damn it.

Yesterday I bought Meg a present (I'd had my eye on it for a while). Today I bought certain necessary supplies to complete a surprise I have planned for her. I know that's hopelessly vague information. I don't expect you to care. But Meg will read this entry, and her curiosity will burn and burn and burn... :)

I finished the glass casket story yesterday, titled "In A Glass Casket." About 5500 words. Is it good? I dunno. I didn't really figure out what it was about until the end. It's a bit darker than I'd expected. It's not a horror story, but it's on the dark side of fantasy. I thought it would be all Bradburyesque, but it didn't turn out that way. Another story with a kid protagonist... it joins "Dog Boys" and "Werewolves and Princesses," I think it's in that vein. Childhood is a dark and wondrous time, you know? I don't think I've felt real terror since I was a kid. I used to feel plain-old uncomplicated joy a lot more when I was a kid, too. I've gained access to other realms of feeling since I've grown up (romantic love, for one), but it's good to stay in touch with that younger stuff. Those feelings are real and valid. "Glass Casket" is about abandonment, and about growing up and letting go. I'm ambivalent about those things (and I mean ambivalent, not indifferent-- I am of two minds, I have strong feelings in opposition). That ambivalence leads to a certain murkiness in the story, I think. Further thought may resolve the issue. That, or I'll have to narrow my focus down. I don't have to say everything I think in every story.

Now I'm working on... well, a romance, actually. It's a science-fiction story, set in the far, far future. Very different from my usual stories. I've written about a thousand words on it since yesterday, cautious words. I don't want to screw this one up, and large parts of it are still mysterious to me. I may not finish it. I'll keep you guys posted.

And no, I'm not quitting on Ferocious Dreamers. I'm just feeling too optimistic and romantic to work on it right now. The next chunk of prose involves a couple of major betrayals, and I'm not up to writing those scenes. It'd just depress me. After Meg goes back to North Carolina, and I'm feeling bummed and want to lose myself in fiction for a while, that'll be the time to write those scenes. And the whole rest of the book, probably.

There's an sf writing group I may be able to join; I'll meet them sometime in January, probably, and see how we like each other. I'll keep you guys up to date. I'm pleased by even the possibility. The invitation comes from someone who read my moaning in one of these entries, my complaints about having no group. So this journal is already paying off.

Not that I write to y'all for that kind of payoff. That'd be a silly reason. But it's a nice side-effect.

I hope you all have a wonderful December 25th, whether you're celebrating Xmas or not. Enjoy the day. And if you go watch the eclipse... be careful you don't burn your eyes out. Okay, Ralphie?

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