| Radio! Books! Violin Lessons! Also, a haircut I do not mention anywhere in this blog! |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|06:00 am] |
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http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2009/11/radio-books-violin-lessons-also-haircut.html posted by Neil
Went in to KNOW radio station in ST Paul today and recorded an introduction to the NPR MORNING EDITION "Open Mike" piece I've been recording on audiobooks, and heard the edit. Asked them to see if they could find a bit more time in the piece for Audible founder Don Katz, who did an amazing interview and was pared down to about a sentence in the current edit. It'll go out in the next ten days, and as soon as I know when it goes out I'll put it up here. I talk to David Sedaris, Martin Jarvis, Don Katz and veteran audio producer/director Rick Harris in it.
Also popped in to DreamHaven and signed a bunch of books. The piles of books have grown so high, and the administration was proving so hard for Greg now that he is a one-man operation that I'm no longer personalising books there. But lots of signed books now in for the Holidays at DreamHaven's Neilgaiman.net site.
Spent much of the rest of the day driving around, being a dad, taking a daughter and her friend to violin, all that normal sort of stuff, and listening to Martin Jarvis's Good Omens audiobook as I did so. I'm about half-way through it now. It makes me so happy, especially hearing Adam Young read in something sort of close to Martin's Just William voice. Weirdly, I found it easier to hear what I wrote and what Terry wrote than I could if I looked at the text (which I discovered a few years ago, when I proofread the Harper Collins edition). The text is a bit of a blur, after all these years, but listening I'd find myself going, "Me... Terry.... Me in first draft, Terry in second.... Terry in first draft, me in second.... My footnote to his bit.... His footnote to mine..." feeling vaguely like an archaeologist. Even spotted a couple of tiny continuity goofs we should have caught 21 years ago that I may call Terry about and correct in future editions.
(She has an East Coast Tour on right now -
11.12 Portland, ME
11.13 Northampton, MA
11.14 Brooklyn, NY (SOLD OUT)
11.18 Philadelphia, PA
11.19 Falls Church, VA
11.20 Carrboro, NC
11.22 Knoxville, TN.
Go see her in concert. She's a wonder live. Tell her I said hi.)
Hi Neil,
I just read about your event in January, where in you will be narrating Peter and the Wolf. My husband and I are over joyed by this. We will hopefully be bringing our three girls up to see the performance. We did have one question though. Will you be reading the original version where the wolf actually is killed, and not the "oh my goodness our kids can't hear about death" version in which they bring him to the zoo? We are both, obviously, really hopeful that being you, and not afraid to scare children (thank you for that btw) will be speaking the true to the story version in which Peter shoots the wolf and then his dead body is paraded through the town as a trophy.
Thanks for your time,
~Cecily
PS- Do you know if there will be tickets for the event or the reception afterwards? It will be a long drive, and it would be nice to be prepared for either staking out seats all day or having tickets in hand. (We could not find any reservation information on the website)
I'd forgotten - or never knew - that there was an alternative version. The script I was sent is the Zoo version. I'll investigate...
And no, I do not know about tickets. I will find out.
Dear Neil,
Your Web Goblin offered to post photos of Coraline pumpkins, and when they were told this, my 8 and 11-year old daughters decided to make some. Here they are, along with 2 emoticon pumpkins and a turnip.
http://www.steampunkfamily.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/IMG_01521-300x225.jpg
I used them to illustrate a ghost story: http://www.steampunkfamily.com/2009/10/philomenas-fright/
Three of the four of us were Coraline characters for Halloween. (The 11-year old went her own way as Susan Sto-Helit.)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/37435081@N03/4077708519/sizes/l/in/set-72157622616148613/
The Other Mother is the scariest thing I've ever been for Halloween. All the children (even the 4-year olds!) knew who I was, and I elicited much nervous laughter when I offered to sew buttons in their eyes.
Thank you for being VERY SCARY INDEED
I love how many families were Coraline families, this year.
If, like me, anybody else was intrigued by your mention of Kenneth Grahame's other works and wants to read them with a minimum of searching, they'll be happy to know both 'The Golden Age' and 'Dream Days' are available for free on the always invaluable Project Gutenberg:
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/291
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/270
Thanks for mentioning them in the first place; I'm always interested in children's lit of that time that has managed to slip through my net.
- B. Bolander
What a good idea. Two very beautiful, gently funny books by the author of The Wind in the Willows. I really enjoyed them, but stylistically they are, well, out of fashion, and will not be everybody's cup of Edwardian tea. Here's a passage that describes the illustration I put up yesterday, as small children steal through the house on a midnight expedition to obtain biscuits (ie cookies, if you are American):
The Blue Room had in prehistoric times been added to by taking in a superfluous passage, and so not only had the advantage of two doors, but enabled us to get to the head of the stairs without passing the chamber wherein our dragon-aunt lay couched. It was rarely occupied, except when a casual uncle came down for the night. We entered in noiseless file, the room being plunged in darkness, except for a bright strip of moonlight on the floor, across which we must pass for our exit. On this our leading lady chose to pause, seizing the opportunity to study the hang of her new dressing-gown. Greatly satisfied thereat, she proceeded, after the feminine fashion, to peacock and to pose, pacing a minuet down the moonlit patch with an imaginary partner. This was too much for Edward's histrionic instincts, and after a moment's pause he drew his single-stick, and with flourishes meet for the occasion, strode onto the stage. A struggle ensued on approved lines, at the end of which Selina was stabbed slowly and with unction, and her corpse borne from the chamber by the ruthless cavalier. The rest of us rushed after in a clump, with capers and gesticulations of delight; the special charm of the performance lying in the necessity for its being carried out with the dumbest of dumb shows.
Once out on the dark landing, the noise of the storm without told us that we had exaggerated the necessity for silence; so, grasping the tails of each other's nightgowns even as Alpine climbers rope themselves together in perilous places, we fared stoutly down the staircase-moraine, and across the grim glacier of the hall, to where a faint glimmer from the half-open door of the drawing-room beckoned to us like friendly hostel-lights. Entering, we found that our thriftless seniors had left the sound red heart of a fire, easily coaxed into a cheerful blaze; and biscuits—a plateful—smiled at us in an encouraging sort of way, together with the halves of a lemon, already once squeezed but still suckable. The biscuits were righteously shared, the lemon segments passed from mouth to mouth; and as we squatted round the fire, its genial warmth consoling our unclad limbs, we realised that so many nocturnal perils had not been braved in vain.
"It's a funny thing," said Edward, as we chatted, "how I hate this room in the daytime. It always means having your face washed, and your hair brushed, and talking silly company talk. But to-night it's really quite jolly. Looks different, somehow."
"I never can make out," I said, "what people come here to tea for. They can have their own tea at home if they like,—they're not poor people,—with jam and things, and drink out of their saucer, and suck their fingers and enjoy themselves; but they come here from a long way off, and sit up straight with their feet off the bars of their chairs, and have one cup, and talk the same sort of stuff every time."
Selina sniffed disdainfully. "You don't know anything about it," she said. "In society you have to call on each other. It's the proper thing to do."
"Pooh! YOU'RE not in society," said Edward, politely; "and, what's more, you never will be."
"Yes, I shall, some day," retorted Selina; "but I shan't ask you to come and see me, so there!"
"Wouldn't come if you did," growled Edward.
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| Puppy Veterans Love |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|11:02 pm] |
OMG, these videos made me cry so hard. They are of dogs welcoming home their owner-soliders.
OMG I miss you so much!
I think I am only recently beginning to understand the saccrifices that come with being a solider. And that isn't even touching those that loose their lives. This is something I've been thinking about quite a bit lately. I think I want to do some type of volunteering for soliders this season, if anyone knows of anything in the Albany area.
Props to Matt for posting the link originally. |
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| [travel] The day that wasn't |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|07:12 pm] |
My flight left Portland this morning in the pre-dawn darkness, and landed in Philadelphia this evening in dusk's last failing light. I spent almost eight hours sitting on airplanes, with a 40 minute break in the middle in DFW. Talk about your lost days... On the other hand, I did Day Jobbery work, got 3,900 words in on "The Specific Gravity of Grief", answered a couple of interviews, and took two naps, as well as reading a good chunk more of The Jade Man's Skin.
I did wear the stupid fricking mask. Boy did that get old after a while. I also pretended to OCD and used hand sanitizer frequently. We'll see if any of this helps stave off respiratory infection. Much like the city's alligator watch, we'll never know unless it fails. My state of mind in this regard is left as an exercise for the reader.
Dinner tonight with ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) klingonguy, valverdi and their friend D—, who likely has an LJ handle but I'm not smart enough to figure it out. Quite nice an evening.
The Philadelphia Airport Marriott, on the other hand, is yet another Marriott property without wireless. I don't get it. For what these rooms cost, they shouldn't have any problem doing what every Motel 6 and mom-and-pop coffee house in the country can do. I'm done staying at Marriott properties, given how many other hotel chains seem to manage this minor issue just fine. I can't believe they don't get constant pushback from their business travel customers over this.
Tomorrow is a roadtrip from Philadelphia to the Pennsylvania hinterlands for Day Jobbe meetings. At least I'll see the sun tomorrow. And then off to San Francisco Friday, and my sweet calendula_witch.
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| remembering... |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|07:08 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "There'll Be Some Changes Made" by Chet Atkins & Mark Knopfler | ] |
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
---Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918), Canadian Army
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| Schott's Miscellany 10 November 2009 |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|05:35 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  curious | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "I'm a Man" by Jeffrey Wright | ] |
The first episode of Sesame Street was aired on TV (1969)
ON DINING ALONE
Solitary dinners, I think, ought to be avoided as much as possible, because solitude tends to produce thought, and thought tends to the suspension of the digestive powers. When, however, dining alone is necessary, the mind should be disposed to cheerfulness by a previous interval of relaxation from whatever has seriously occupied the attention, and by directing it to some agreeable object.
---Thomas Walker, c.1835
There is no right to strike against the public safety of anybody, anywhere, any time.
Calvin Coolidge (1872-1933) |
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| Schott's Miscellany 9 November 2009 |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|05:24 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Papa Dukie and the Mud People" by the Subdudes | ] |
Twenty-two-year-old Garry Kasparov became the youngest world chess champion after defeating Anatoly Karpov (1985)
WATER IN IDIOM
A flawed plan will hold no water; a plan that is exposed might be dead in the water, or risks being blown out of the water; whereas a plan that will stand close scrutiny is watertight--unless someone pours cold water over it. (And even if they do, it might just be water off a duck's back.) To carry water to the river is like taking coals to Newcastle, and while you can lead a horse to water, you can't make it drink. If you have muddied the water, you might seek to pour oil over troubled waters; a true friend will seek always to be a bridge over troubled water. If you fail to keep your head above water, you may find yourself in hot water or deep water (not forgetting, of course, that still waters run deep). You may not take to a backwater like a duck to water--indeed, you may feel like a fish out of water. However, since much water will haveflowed under the bridge, it is advisable simply to tread water and avoid the temptation to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Remember always that blood is thicker than water, come hell or high water.
HOTCHI WITCHU--gypsy term for hedgehog
"James swerved to avoid running over the hotchi witchu." |
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| [yuletide] |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|02:04 pm] |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) yuletide author letter is here. i should have put dreamwidth down in my signup, but i still feel like LJ is the base out of which all of my operations ... uh ... operate.
...that is all. |
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| Bleh for the day |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|04:34 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  lethargic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Blake Babies - "I'm Not Your Mother" | ] |
I cannot concentrate on anything today. I sit down to read something for work and find my mind wanders instantly. I didn't have this problem yesterday. I must be more tired than I thought.
The best I've done so far is to read a few articles in French, get angry enough to write two-thirds of a comment and sign up for a newspaper's blogging features. Since that paper is in Canada and wouldn't accept an American zip code, I gave Santa Claus's postal code (H0H 0H0, in the Montreal central processing office).
Forty-five minutes until I leave. I'm bringing my work reading home in case I feel human after a nap. |
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| The Murder Re-Enacted |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|02:21 pm] |
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http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2009/11/murder-re-enacted.html posted by Neil
The Graveyard Book just won a literary award, which never gets old, and this one came with a medal, and also with a cheque. I thought, Hm. I have to get myself something with the cheque and I have to do it immediately, otherwise it will simply vanish into the day to day bank account of life, and I will never look at anything and go "Ah, that is the thing I got with my Graveyard Book Award."
So I bought this. It's "The Murder Re-Enacted": It's an E. H. Shepard illustration (he's most famous for illustrating Winnie the Pooh) from Kenneth Grahame's book The Golden Age. Kenneth Grahame wrote The Wind In The Willows, the story of Mole and Rat and Badger and of course, Mr Toad, also illustrated by Shepard.
I once read an essay by A.A. Milne telling people that, of course they knew Kenneth Grahame's work, he wrote The Golden Age and Dream Days, everybody had read them, but he also did this amazing book called The Wind in the Willows that nobody had ever heard of. And then Milne wrote a play called Toad of Toad Hall, which was a big hit and made The Wind in The Willows famous and read, and, eventually, one of the good classics (being a book that people continue to read and remember with pleasure), while The Golden Age and Dream Days, Grahame's beautiful, gentle tales of Victorian childhood, are long forgotten.
If there is a moral, or a lesson to be learned from all this, I do not know what it is.
Right. Off to K.N.O.W. St Paul to record the intro bits to my NPR piece on Audio Books, and I will play the Martin Jarvis-read GOOD OMENS on the car CD player all the way there.
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| lotsa Luxan, in stores today |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|09:41 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | pleased | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Stuck in the Middle with You" by Stealers Wheel | ] |
Be sure to hie to your local comic shop today, as there's lots of D'Argo-y goodness: the fourth and final issue of Farscape: D'Argo's Trial--which guest stars Captain Crais--and the hardcover Farscape: Uncharted Tales Vol. 1: D'Argo's Lament--collecting the four-issue miniseries in its entirety.
Both are written by me, with art by Neil Edwards (Lament) and Caleb Cleveland (Trial). Be sure to check out the preview of both over at Comics Continuum. |
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| Why am I awake? |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|09:03 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | maybe I'm in gear now... | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Midnight Oil - "Armistice Day" | ] |
My official shift is 10 to 6:30. Since I'm in training and we don't directly answer phones, it's variable. This morning I was supposed to have a training teleconference and Webex session at 9.
I was going to go to bed early. Then I got a phone call from a friend needing an XP install disk. Next thing I know I'm hanging out with cool people in Somerville, diagnosing hardware problems on a giant old laptop and installing XP while maintaining hipness.
My friend had just bought a USB wifi stick. For once the installer disk for it came in handy as we turned on networking and upgraded this beast of a laptop to SP3 without having to run a cat5 line from another room.
Note to self: get a USB wifi stick for my traveling tool kit. Even when I have wifi, not every other machine does when it's shot.
We all wound up back at my house to grab a MacOS X.4 install disk and a PCI wifi card for another machine. Then I had to drive everyone back to Somerville and drive back home to Brookline again. The point is that I got to bed late -- 1:30. I had to be up at 7:30.
Thanks to half the city getting a holiday, I faced no real traffic and got to work at 8:45. Then I found out the developer in Pune (a city in India on their west coast, near Mumbai) got feverish and went home early. Also, half of his office is out because of Cyclone Phyan -- I guess they're called typhoons in the Pacific, hurricanes in the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico but cyclones in the Indian Ocean.
The upshot is that the meeting has been moved to the same time Friday. I gotta go through this again, when there is guaranteed to be traffic. I must go to bed early on Thursday -- and tonight, for that matter.
I may give into the demons of caffeine today. I get so proud about not doing it but... yeah, pride won't turn my keyboard into a pillow. I don't feel tired as much as I feel like I'm gripping onto the edge of my desk.
Oh, whine whine whine. I have no real problems if this is my problem -- oh, I can go home early since I clocked in early. Meanwhile, poor fangirl715 is back in the hospital so my thoughts are on her.
Also, Prince Charles went to Montreal. Some folks got their heads thrumped by the cops for protesting it. The Prince met Cirque du Soleil. 80% of Quebeckers think the monarchy is outdated, according to the Montreal Presse. Mind you, the same newspaper printed an editorial that institutional bilingualism is hurting the French language in Quebec... and used a stock photo of a road sign in Ontario to make their point. The sign is directing people back to the U.S., which may be the bigger point or a sarcastic counterpoint -- maybe that's the layout department rolling its eyes at the columnist.
The more I think about the article, the more I think the photo is an eye-rolling. The author claims it's a waste of government resources to send two pamphlets to homes letting them know about H1N1 vaccinations, one in English and one in French. Oh c'mon! There's an actual health problem out there with a preventative solution readily available and you want to complain that advertising for it is a waste? Sheesh. "This is Quebec and we all speak French." No, it's Quebec and a million citizens out of seven million are still unilingual anglophones -- well, une-et-demie. If you've lived in Quebec long enough to get junk mail, wouldn't you have to be able to read bills and jury duty notices in French? Heck, try reading a Montreal parking ticket without knowing French.
For those that want to know how I know that's not exactly a sign in Quebec: the shape of the route number on the sign is the base of a trapezoid. That's the symbol for a secondary or county road in Ontario. Since the digit itself is looking like a 3, this is probably a sign in Windsor where highway 401 ends and brings traffic into Detroit.
Okay, enough rambling -- be sure to remember Flanders Field, where Ned Flanders' late wife could be resting. Rod and Tod will be thinking of her too. |
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| [links] Link salad thanks a veteran |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|03:27 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | art, books, cancer, conventions, escapement, green, links, personal, politics, reviews, tech | ] |
Call for masks — A way of sticking it to my cancer.
Smart Bitches, Trashy Books gives a shoutout to Green [ Powell's | Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Borders ] — Jay Lake’s Green has one of the most wonderful new female protagonists I’ve read in a while (Thanks to Cora.)
Foreign Service Journal reviews Escapement and Green here and here — (Thanks to my Dad.)
Google Dashboard: Now You Know What Google Knows About You — Um, yeah. (Thanks to lillypond.)
The Very Serious Paradox — The Poor Man institute calls out conservative doublethink on the role of government in society. (Admittedly not hard to do, but this one's still a doozie.)
?otD: Who will you thank for Veteran's Day?
11/11/2009
Body movement: n/a (traveling)
Hours slept: 5.75
This morning's weigh-in: n/a (forgot)
Currently reading: The Jade Man's Skin by Daniel Fox
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| [art|cancer] Call for masks |
[Nov. 10th, 2009|08:23 pm] |
Since I'm not going to be at OryCon due to the thoracic surgery, and I'm kiboshing the Sunday visitation plan for reasons of respiratory health (will try to make the Skype thing happen, though), I have a new idea.
Jay Lake masks.
Could be stick masks, casts, abstracts, whatever. If you're an artist, or a crafter, or just want to have fun with it, make a mask of me. There's a kazillion photo references on my Flickr account. Bring it or send it to OryCon, or to your hometown con, and while I'm laid up from surgery (and later, chemo), I can be with you. I'll make a Flickr pool for the project, and later on we can have prizes and stuff.
But mostly for fun, and so I can go on being out in the world with you guys.
Make me a mask, if it pleases you.
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| [cancer] My inner rebel speaks |
[Nov. 10th, 2009|08:21 pm] |
Flying to Philadelphia tomorrow (including the open dinner tomorrow night at the Philadelphia Marriott). Meetings on Thursday in Pennsylvania, then Friday I fly to San Francisco to spend a few days with calendula_witch.
One thing I've become very concerned about is catching cold or flu. A respiratory infection right now would be an utter disaster. I've had my seasonal flu vaccine, but as recently as couple of days ago the H1N1 vaccine wasn't yet available here in the Portland area. Pretty soon I'll be so close to the surgery that even if I do manage to get it, an adverse reaction will affect the surgery.
So tonight I went out and bought some hand sanitizer to carry with me, and some face masks. I'm cool with the hand sanitizer, but find myself oddly reluctant to wear a face mask on the plane. This is rather out of character for me, given my usual indifference to the opinions of random strangers. I'm not even sure what it means, except maybe that feels like another surrender.
And that is one of the hardest things here. My sense of narrowing is in effect a surrender to cancer and the demands of both the disease and its treatment. I'm about to give up a couple of weeks of my life to surgery and recovery; then half a year or more to chemotherapy. I've given up my usual clothing in favor of roaming around bundled up like a rag doll. I'm giving up at least some of my writing for a while. The space this takes in my head is growing, and it's pushing almost everything else out.
For some reason, my inner rebel is drawing the line at the stupid face masks. Yet if I do pick something up on the plane, it could be dreadful for me.
I hate this. Hate hate hate.
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| [science] I love Pluto |
[Nov. 10th, 2009|06:04 pm] |
Wisdom of the Niece:
My five year old niece recently discovered - to her dismay - that Pluto is no longer a planet. So she drew a picture of Pluto and wrote, "I Love Pluto. I think Pluto is a planet."
© 2009 D. Otteman and M. Lake. All rights reserved.
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