(no subject)

Quite randomly, I was talking to a friend about movies her car-mad three-year-old might like, and I remembered my childhood and making airfix model cars just before knights and dinosaurs kicked in at around six or seven. I and my father glued a Darracq together and I know why. It was because of this film, which I loved as a child and which is, like everything else in the world, on YouTube.

And interestingly, even then, part of what I loved was the car and part was the glamour of the comic adversary's girlfriend, played by Kay Kendall. Who, I discover on looking the film up in IMDB, was calld Rosalind. Is that really where I fell in love with the name I would bear for the greater part of my life? I fear it probably was.

My last post of 2009

I am off in a second to have dinner, and then go for a sound check, and then read my new poem at Bird Club. For the sake of the few people who may read this before going, I am putting the new poem behind cut tags; Bird commissioned me to write something about the link between being an sf fan and being part of the broad queer community, a subject I might never otherwise have written about.

( Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry - you know my methods )

And that's the first poem in which I have begun to address Abigail's decline and death, I suppose. Just as this was the year of the Desire poems, I suspect that 2010 will be the year of the Death Suite, a project to which I am drawn but freaked by.