clark ashton smith kept a notebook with, among other things, ideas for stories in it. such as the following.
item 81 (plot germ) - 'an expedition sent from the earth to the extinct sun, for the purpose of rekindling it by means of atomic fission...' horsemouth likes this story - he lies the notion of dead things being brought (properly) back to life.
like a lot of pulp authors ashton smith wrote a wide range of material - horsemouth hadn't realised frederic brown wrote science fiction as well as detective fiction.
ashton smith's notebook was later laboriously copied out and published as 'the blackbook'. horsemouth likes this he likes the idea of writers keeping notebooks (rather than all fiction coming through fully formed from genius and all ideas being effortlessly remembered).
the good news is that horsemouth has found his hat. (where was it? where he left it.) the mediocre news is that it probably needs a wash.
steffen basho-junghans has died. horsemouth saw him play once (at a robbie basho tribute gig/ film showing of voice of the eagle at cafe OTO). he was (at that gig) playing more the free-improv side of it than the finger-picked guitar side of things. he was possibly robbie basho's greatest fan.
30 years ago patrick keiller started filming london - it came out in 1994 (and was followed by robinson in space). there's a showing of the film and a discussion on the 11th (but horsemouth will be out of town already). horsemouth (you will remember) re-watched it recently. it is of its time but that was a very formative time for horsemouth - it was when he decided to abandon politics and cast himself free of his previous moorings, to go off and explore the city..
yesterday a fucking disaster of a day in the meat world (so much for exploring the city, horsemouth is out of practice). horsemouth forgot to tap in causing unnecessary travel expense. he then couldn't find any record shops (all the big ones have vanished). train delays on the way back. fuck it all. wandering horsemouth is fine with. going to do specific tasks/ find specific things, he finds stressful.
horsemouth is still struggling with some seasonal gringe (he no longer has the alibi of work). now he's worried that when the tasks that have been stressing him out complete he will be confronted by the emptiness of his existence (make wind blowing tumble weed noises now). rather than relief he will feel existential horror (possibly he's been reading too much h.p.lovecraft and clark ashton smith). perhaps the implications of the last 30 years of history since london aka. his life are finally dawning on him.
previously his reaction to getting old was yee-hah forward to the bus pass but recently he realised that no he is actually getting old, that time is passing. he watched the bart's covid cruise episode of the simpsons (bart extends the cruise holiday the family are on by faking a worldwide pandemic in the (perhaps mistaken) belief that these will be the best days of his life and that, unless he acts, they will soon be over).
later he watched toby jones in a version of conrad's the secret agent - he has bigger problems than horsemouth he has accidentally killed the wife's idiot brother attempting to blow up greenwich observatory and the police know it is him. which ever way you turn for him it looks shit.
today. last full day in the seaside towns for a bit.
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