Demons and Witches and Goblins, Oh My.

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed.

Music:

Time: Night.

In a bid to clear my head today, I took myself to Barnes and Noble to spend some more of the Christmas gift card.

In the end, I gravitated to the clearance bin (largely because I don't have a gigantic amount left on said card). There, I found E.R. Eddison's "The Worm Ouroboros."

I took this as a sign that, having devoured George MacDonald's "Phantastes" and "Lilith" already this year, my pre-Tolkien fantasy reading should continue with this book.

I'm 51 pages in, and enjoying the trip so far. Eddison manages to be more affected yet less precious than MacDonald -- although I've yet to see anything as emotionally charged as some of MacDonald's writing, particularly the broken globe segment in "Phantastes."

Anyway ... it's an engaging read in a genre I enjoy. Between this brand of fantasy and Christopher Moore's whacked-out scenarios, I'm getting a good supply of unreality these days.

Never a bad thing, that. Not in my world, or what passes for it.