Tangents

Lots happening: At Moonsick, my poem "Nowhere to Go" (trigger warning: harassment). Over at soundcloud, a song with my name. I'm hoping to get to Simchat Torah dinner and dancing Monday night, at a synagogue whose rabbi delivered the benediction at our new mayor's inauguration in Spanish
(his Twitter bio: "With a real southern (a.k.a. Argentinean) accent! :)").

My original plan for the evening had been to head across town for ice skating, but a wave of tiredness hit during dinner, so the new plan is to review tomorrow's music and then go fall asleep in the bathtub. But first, some photos in response to Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books challenge (most of which is taking place over at zirconium, but it's nice to relax with something that doesn't require absolute order or comprehensiveness [she says, enjoying the lull before her next indexing gig]).

Prompt 19: same sex

This is a book I copyedited four years ago:



Our new mayor officiated at the first SCOTUS-legalized same-sex ceremony in my county earlier this year. From the Scene's report:

Councilwoman At-Large Megan Barry opened a book--a copy of the works of William Makepeace Thackeray with the ceremony taped on some inside pages. This is standard procedure for the current mayoral contender, who has the authority to perform weddings as part of her standing as a council member; she always picks up a used book when she's asked to perform a wedding. She then presents the book, with the verbiage of the ceremony, to the newly nuptialized couple.

Prompt 20: travel

A book I couldn't resist after walking around the Tuileries: Fabrice Moireau's album of Paris



I'm still periodically dipping into Anthony Glyn's The Seine. I couldn't resist sending the following excerpt to a friend yesterday:

Centuries of royal boredom have done something to the building, to its very stones; the place glows with boredom and the sensitive passer-by cannot but be aware of it. It is for this reason, of course, that the palace still survives. Nobody has ever cared enough about it to burn it down; even the Communards were half-hearted when it came to the Louvre.

This entry was originally posted at http://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/394497.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

Virtual: Hena Khan's Golden Domes and Silver Lanterns: A Muslim Book of Colors, illustrated by Mehrdokht Amini. While I prefer picture books on paper, I do like checking them out (so to speak) via my library's online lending program, especially when said program recommends books to me that might not otherwise show up on my radar, like this one. It's a beautiful book, and I now want to look up the other books the author and artist have produced.

Physical: Elisabeth Kushner's The Purim Superhero, illustrated by Mike Byrne. This one was brought to my attention by someone on my Twitter feed, who pointed to an essay expressing disappointment with PJ Library's decision to make it an opt-in selection (rather than an automatic delivery, as all its other selections have been) because the dads in the story are gay. I didn't save the link to that column, but these comments are in a like vein, and Keshet reports that subscribers opted in in droves.

This Tablet article covers a lot about what I like about the book, including the line that made me stop and sniffle: the hero of the story is feeling pressured to choose a superhero costume for Purim, even though, left to his own devices, he would rather be an alien.

"Max said I need to pick a superhero."

"Is Max your boss?" Abba said.

"All the boys are going to be superheroes," said Nate.

"You know," Abby said, "not all boys have to be the same thing."

Max thought about how most kids had a mom and dad, not a Daddy and an Abba.

"Abba?" Nate asked. "Do you ever just want to be like everybody else?"

Do you ever just want to be like everybody else? Oh. Oh, my heart.

Also? The cast includes a dad who sews and a woman rabbi. Yes!

This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/77800.html.