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I have known Mike for over twenty years: in the time I have known him his hair has lightened to a magisterial silver, and he seems to have grown somehow continually younger. He is, at first glance, slightly built, although a second glance suggests he has been constructed from whips and springs and good, tough leather, and it comes as no surprise to find that Mike is a rock climber, for one can without difficulty imagine him clinging to a rock face on a cold, wet day, finding purchase in almost invisible nooks and pulling himself continually up, man against stone. John Harrison, who is Mike to his friends, is a puckish person of medium height, given to enthusiasms and intensity.
![dion palmer musition dion palmer musition](https://images.eil.com/large_image/DION_THE%2BWANDERER-604682.jpg)
And this was odd, only because until then I had explicitly equated Viriconium with England. And leaving that small shop, walking out into the colonnaded shaded streets of Bologna, holding my book of impossibilities, I fancied myself in Viriconium. The book, created by the artist Luigi Serafini, is, in all probability, an art object: there is text, but the alphabet resembles an alien code, and the illustrations (which cover such aspects of life as gardening, anatomy, mathematics, and geometry, card games, flying contraptions, and labyrinths) bear only a passing resemblance to those we know in this world at this time: in one picture a couple making love becomes a crocodile, which crawls away while the animals, plants and ideas are strange enough that one can fancy the book something that has come to us from a long time from now, or from an extremely long way away. Some weeks ago and half-way around the world, I found myself in the centre of Bologna, that sunset-coloured medieval towered city which waits in the centre of a modern Italian city of the same name, in a small used bookshop, where I was given a copy of the the Codex Seraphinianus to inspect. (The story, from A Study in Sherlock, isn't online, but you can read about it here.) I don't write many mysteries, and I've never been nominated for an Edgar Award before. So I got a week off I would never have had in real life, even if it was a grumpy one, and all has worked out for the best.Īnd I learned on Monday morning I was nominated for an Edgar Award, by the Mystery Writers of America, for my story "The Case of Death and Honey". was now going to change so radically I would have wasted a week's work if I'd been working on it. So I am happy.Īnd the thing I've been holding fire on for a week just sorted itself out, too. But I started falling for Amanda's iPad in Edinburgh in August, bought one for myself on impulse, and started writing on it, and discovering that writing on it was easy and pleasant.)Īnd this morning I got an email telling me that the thing that I would have been working on all week, that I'd already lost 15 pages of.
#DION PALMER MUSITION BLUETOOTH#
But never liked the Xoom, and still don't - I have one, but mostly use it as an Audible player, and attempts to use it to write on, with a bluetooth keyboard, early this week were just painful.
#DION PALMER MUSITION ANDROID#
(Weirdly, I much prefer my Nexus Android to the iPhone.
![dion palmer musition dion palmer musition](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d4/03/06/d4030641de65e73ad81467969e2807ae.jpg)
And I now have an iPad, with which I am starting to fall in love. I was grumpy.īut, I spent the wasted week getting healthy and in shape and juicing things. I didn't get the thing I was meant to be writing written.
#DION PALMER MUSITION SOFTWARE#
It's been a bugger of a week: I left my Macbook Air on a plane on Sunday night, and have spent most of the rest of the week doing things like being on the phone to the backup service, learning that the tracking software I'd thought was on there was on there, but hadn't been activated, buying a new computer, etc. Years later, I dropped Christopher Tolkien a letter, explaining something that he found himself unable to footnote, and was profoundly gratified to find myself thanked in the Tolkien book The War of the Ring (for something I had learned from reading James Branch Cabell, no less). And I read Lord of the Rings until I no longer needed to read it any longer, because it was inside me. And once the book was published I would, in this parallel universe, be the author of Lord of the Rings, than which there can be no better thing. And then I would get someone to retype the book - I knew that if I sent a publisher a book that had already been published, even in a parallel universe, they’d get suspicious, just as I knew my own thirteen-year old typing skills were not going to be up to the job of typing it. I gave the matter a great deal of thought, and eventually came to the conclusion that the best thing would be if, while holding a copy of The Lord of the Rings, I slipped into a parallel universe in which Professor Tolkien had not existed.
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