my heart is a glorious machine;

I've had an odd sort of day. Work was promoted from being merely a usual, somewhat dull workday to frustrating beyond the telling of it, when my drawer came up forty dollars short -- and this was after my replacement was terribly late. The supervisor who came to try to sort out my problem: every time she did the math again, the drawer got shorter. It was awful. Then I went into the back room to fetch my things (by this time I was ravenous, having been hungry since four), and the topmost locker fell on my head. This hurt, to be sure, but was mostly really upsetting. It was one of those ridiculous Things That Only Ever Happen To Me, such as tearing great holes in one's trousers by getting them caught on doorknobs, or -- well, colliding chin-first with a metal pole on one's first day of work, for example. Also I couldn't borrow a book because the people who are authorised to process such things were not in.

But -- have you ever had that feeling -- which is less of a feeling and more of a tasting or a hearing or a not-seeing -- that there is another world hovering just on the edge of this one? Or not the edge, as such -- behind the ever-fluttering curtain of this one. My head was full of it today. I don't know why: usually I get this sort of thing when I find myself in a very strange and beautiful place; woods, or a cathedral, or up on the hill behind my old house with a candle. There wasn't anything about me that seemed to be a link to some otherness. It was only there, catching at my thoughts. The curtain never parted -- I haven't had the flash in months, if not a full year -- but I could sense that there was a curtain.

I am going upstairs soon, and lighting up the candelabra, and lying on the bed with music.

(And: Moony seems to be back in working order -- it's a long story, and I don't even know how it worked out in the end, but I am very glad to have him back -- which means that The Mix is back in progress. It's really mostly finished; I just have to sort it out, and make cover art. Hurrah hurrah.)

I NEED YOUR MOST ACOUSTICALLY DEVASTATING LOVE SONGS EVER, FORTHWITH. (PIANO IS PARTICULARLY SOUGHT.)

(IT ISN'T PERSONAL, IT'S FANDOM.  ...GO AWAY.)

I really am going to do that Deathly Hallows response post, because there is actually a lot to talk about besides How It Broke My Heart And Why I Am Not Resigned, but I keep worrying I'm going to forget something ("I've only read the book twice!), and then the less silly bit of myself says very sternly, "Banui, it's a response, not a ruddy thesis paper" and so the two sides of me sort of bicker amicably for a while which makes it really difficult to actually, you know, concentrate on anything useful.

Anyway, 'tis the season for Great Thinky Meta Posts, now that the early frenzy is mostly over, and here is my first contribution, because I have been mulling this over for some time, and it's got a lot to do with my fic-verse, and I think if I start writing out my thoughts maybe some of it will come out clearly enough that I can start to write about it. I keep trying to write fic about Deathly Hallows, but I run up against this great block that says, "are you sure that this is how you want to portray this?" Like, guys, I haven't even really explored how and when Remus and Tonks actually fell in love, other than that it was sometime during OotP, and I'd like there to be something interesting involved, some sort of -- at least mild -- adventure, something other than mucking about in Grimmauld Place and keeping Sirius from going mad.


...I have apparently lost the ability to post about anything not related to Harry Potter now. This is a sign of dire things I am sure.

I had two intelligent posts compsed in my head (I won't tell you what they are about lest I jinx them and never actually write them up, which is what always seems to happen when I say that I am going to post something) but my mind is taking its habitual leave of absence (really, haven't been feeling very right in the head for a while), so there is nothing especially scintillating forthcoming. Wallace & Gromit is a nice diversion, though; the siblings and I had a marathon of all three short films and Curse of the Were-Rabbit tonight. With popcorn. 

(And, um. Are you lot sure you haven't got any really angry songs about what ghastly trouble the ocean is? No-one? *droop* Because, yeah. I'm trying to sort out the tracks I've got for the Mariner's Wife mix, and it's not--it's got holes, you know. I'm sort of shocked that I've managed to get nine tracks at all, though. lady_moriel's suggestion of Emiliana Torrini's 'Sea People' was a good one, except it's a really difficult song to fit in naturally. It feels as though it ought to begin or end something, but it can't, thematically. Agh. Still looking for my drowning song, too. Charlotte Martin's 'The Flood' is v. lovely, but it's--not quite angry enough; it makes a nice sad reflective end to the whole thing, but not a climax. ...Egad, I'm going on and on about my odd little projects again and not doing anything productive. Aaagh. *goes to bed*) 

Also, PBS, will you please stop playing weird stuff like Elvis concerts instead of Monty Python? *woe* I miss it terribly. I mean, really. Elvis concerts. It's St. Patrick's Day; can't you at least get, I don't know, that Van Morrison concert from last December or something? Or, I don't know, LOREENA MCKENNITT? If WGBH were here...! The large important cities have got it so much better in public television. *is totally not digging out a Mary Black album for an absurdly late Irish music mix, NEVERRR*

Yeah, I know. Go to bed.