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May 13, 2011 Progress Notes:
"On Roadstead Farm"
Words today: 350.
Words total: 1300.
Reason for stopping: Decent round number, and it's late.
Darling du Jour: He was full-grown if not long to it: a man of twenty-four or five, and strong in the forearms and legs. He wasn't going to take no from a girl too field-browned to be pretty and too small, even after a full season of weeding, to throw him bodily off the kitchen porch.
Mean Things: Trying very hard to keep things together, and not quite making it, and knowing it.
Research Roundup: Malting techniques; cultivation of barley. It disturbs me that most of the top hits I found on this were for some online farming game. We're so screwed for the apocalypse, kids.
Books in progress: Alissa York, Effigy.
The glamour: Dayjob, dinner with a friend, and then a walk home through the kind of warm, fat evening rain that makes you not mind so much that you're walking in the rain and getting damp.
A second song has attached itself to this story. Funnily, I never really liked the original Rankin Family release of this; I found it kind of fatuous and melodramatic. This version is sung by two friends-of-a-friend, recorded in PEI somewhere. One of them is dead. He killed himself last fall, aged 31, which is why the track was posted and how I know about it. He has a beautiful baritone voice. My friend mentioned he was about 18 when this was recorded.
I never even close to knew this guy, but the song isn't fatuous anymore.
Have a listen, even if you don't like folk. It's a little piece of someone's immortality.
"On Roadstead Farm"
Words today: 350.
Words total: 1300.
Reason for stopping: Decent round number, and it's late.
Darling du Jour: He was full-grown if not long to it: a man of twenty-four or five, and strong in the forearms and legs. He wasn't going to take no from a girl too field-browned to be pretty and too small, even after a full season of weeding, to throw him bodily off the kitchen porch.
Mean Things: Trying very hard to keep things together, and not quite making it, and knowing it.
Research Roundup: Malting techniques; cultivation of barley. It disturbs me that most of the top hits I found on this were for some online farming game. We're so screwed for the apocalypse, kids.
Books in progress: Alissa York, Effigy.
The glamour: Dayjob, dinner with a friend, and then a walk home through the kind of warm, fat evening rain that makes you not mind so much that you're walking in the rain and getting damp.
A second song has attached itself to this story. Funnily, I never really liked the original Rankin Family release of this; I found it kind of fatuous and melodramatic. This version is sung by two friends-of-a-friend, recorded in PEI somewhere. One of them is dead. He killed himself last fall, aged 31, which is why the track was posted and how I know about it. He has a beautiful baritone voice. My friend mentioned he was about 18 when this was recorded.
I never even close to knew this guy, but the song isn't fatuous anymore.
Have a listen, even if you don't like folk. It's a little piece of someone's immortality.
