ends that are loose

I find myself relieved that the National Book Awards have been awarded, with no obvious collapse and tumble of publishing house bricks and what seems to have been a ceremony (compared with last year's) so civil as to be dull. Hurrah.

Some stray links:

1. The first book in the new Small Beer Press reprint line Peapod Classic is now available: Carol Emshwiller's Carmen Dog. (Small Beer is, of course, the publishing concern of Gavin Grant and Kelly Link.) The edition sounds fabulous and looks purty and I can vouch for what's between the covers: brill. Order right now! Sidenote: SciFiction's original this week is a new Carol Emshwiller story "All of Us Can Almost..." about flying, or not.
   
2. A new study describes the brains of Buddhist monks while meditating, check it out at MeFi.
   
3. Also via MeFi, one that I'm pretending I haven't seen, apparently these computers cause eye disease. And I thought all I had to worry about was carpel tunnel. I can't wait to be the world's oldest 55 year old, flexing my hands to prove they still work and bumping into things.
   
4. Little Toy Robot (sorta) stalks Michael Chabon but holds out on telling US his curious readers the name of the exhibit in question. (Yes, I realize it's probably available at the museum link, but that's no fun.... it's so official.) (Also, see the Millhauser quote from today.)
   
5. Maud Newton hits another one out of the park, this time talking about why we should all be worried about the censorship of science textbooks.
   
6. Have I mentioned how much I heart Uncle Grambo? And he hearts The White Stripes, just like me. And also Luna and, well, really good list of bands from the original UG. Go check it out. (He's responding to this list, compiled by surveying a bunch of music bloggers -- and I think it's a pretty ass-kicking list too. SO there.)
   
7. The recently returned to the b$&*verse Susan nails what's so wrong about hearing stranger/neighbor noise when you live in an apartment. Seriously, I can't believe what a difference it is to be in a house now, where any noise from next door is faint or not at all and I can play music any time I want. Although... there is an evil part of me that would have loved for Leo the Bongo King to have to endure the typing noise from Mr. Rowe during his prime sleeping hours of late afternoon.
   
8. Don't forget to check in over at the Gaddis Drinking Club tonight, where we'll be having a rousing, confusing, apocalyptic conversation about chapter uno. There's a cross-eyed dead saint girl in the book. And a Barbary ape. Who could resist?