This week’s Mongrels roundup, brought to you by the waning battery of my ever-unreliant iPhone, and with a catch-up list provided by last week’s roundup, stairstep-style:
And? To start out, we get to go back to the dogs. Always the dogs. Thanks, Chip:
And then for a coffee break, a mere thirty minutes before lunch:
And, I think Mongrels got to be WITH a John Foster book a cycle or two ago. Now it’s good be with him and Paul, here:
And, two laptop-screens-as-bookstands in a row? When it’s something I’d never even thought of? Very cool:
Thrilled to be going to Rome. Feel like I’m in a Patricia Highsmith novel.
And, nobody spells a howl like Craig Wallwork:
Were I more of a cheater, I’d have advanced this to be up by Chip’s dog-pic:
Joey and Jillian, thanks. Luck in . . . Indiana, I think it is? Glad Mongrels is going along:
And, what an excellent Twitter handle, yes?
Putting this one in mostly so I can say: I’m pretty much ALWAYS thinking of Near Dark . . .
Indra’s book is out pretty much momentarily, here. I read it so long ago now that the cover’s changed since I was in the story. Also? You never really get out of this story. Fun werewolfy stuff. There may or may not be someone in there named “Gevaudan.” He may or may not smell nice.
Dig seeing those libraries barcodes on the yellow book. Thank you, Fern:
No idea what David’s talking about, here. Crazy stuff, evidently:
Don’t think this was on purpose, but A) proud to be in a lens again with Paul, and B) werewolves, they’re always sneaking up on. Along with Demon Theorys and Growing Up Dead in Texases and, I think, The Long Trial of Nolan Dugattis.
I wonder, hm . . . am I the kind of screencapper who will only screencap the good part of a short write-up, and slice the rest off? Nah. Surely not. I’ve got to be better than that, right?
And, some I’d missed, from the early days of Mongrels:
And what say we wrap it with this very Kornwolfy tat—really, click the link after the image. The very last photo’s very werewolf-cool, too.
Thanks, Amanda. I’d have missed it / this.
—until we meet again, in a screencap lens . . .