March : Les Miserables (Part Two)

“There comes an hour when protest no longer suffices; after philosophy there must be action;” ~Victor Hugo

If you haven’t read the first part of this month’s post, find it here.

So, more Les Miz! Not only did Hugo’s great masterpiece impel me to get out the sketchbook, but it also inspired a little writing.

I was thinking of the scene at the end of the musical, (which reduced me to sobs), where Fantine comes for Jean Valjean as he dies. This piece is inspired by that.

That is a nasty cough, she said. She said, and she smelled like rosemary around her lips (bitter), beeswax around the tips of her fingers.

And that was unimaginable, the beeswax.

The shift was lace, it was so lace, it made him think about something small and chocolate he’d tasted once. So lace.

We will throw you to the dogs.

They are not real.

They are not real?

They were walking together, pale toes upon boards that crept up along the walls.

“What color is it?” he whispered. He walked going back and forth, stiff legs like masts from narrow hips, a bone-cage.

“It is gray.”

“Are you sure?”

“You are only color-blind, you are sometimes right.”

The sunlight or the song-light came up through the spaces beneath their feet and there was no lichen because the place, for all its grayness, was very clean.

“Since I last saw you, my mind has fallen into disrepair.”

“It has?”

“I have become better.” The words skated from his dry lips, his dry mouth. “I feel like I’m turning into a lizard.”

“You’re not.”

The whispers were warm yet there was no heart in that place, no air, no breath. They were not cold.

“You have entropied since I last saw you.” She was gazing quietly ahead as she spoke, he was looking down, at his raisin-edged toes.

“If I were to lay down on this bridge and sleep, what would happen to me? What would happen to you? Would I wake up?”

If there is an Otherworld, (it was written in the sand, sand cold sharp and wet), an Otherworld in all the inside peaks of roofs and dirt and behind the eyes, then what use is today? Then what use are the back and forths and checklists? Then what use are the shirts and the pants and the errands?

He gazed quietly down, translucently white toe-pads feeling, caressing the frozen grains, caught in the cracks of his softness.

“That looks like it was drawn with a finger.”

“That is not the point.” she whispered. It was a land of whispers—perhaps that was the answer.

“I know that is not the point.” His eyes were closed around the wrinkles. “Do not make me tell you the point.”

Haven’t read Les Miz? Haven’t watched it? Haven’t listened to it? Have no fear! Behold, more affiliate links!


March : Madalynne


Has spring sprung where you are? The Snottor is sometimes inclined to ask such polite questions. The Snottor, for his part, still has a rainy April before them. The uncertain weather of spring, trying as it is to the naïvely hopeful gardener, is upon us.

As we have all gotten our footing (he hopes), this introduction is rather short. He cares little for such trivial things as introductions, wishing for us to proceed onto the meat of the conversation and save him from his impatience.

About this artist:

Maddie Flanigan is the head of her own lingerie brand, Madalynne. Her website, shop and blog can be found at the following:

Being an aspiring sewer himself, the Snottor first met with her work when a kind relative of Phlox’s sent him a tutorial Maddie had done on the Spoonflower blog:

As the reader can see, this is one talented lady. Her work is beautiful, and her projects and patterns all seem pretty do-able to the humble Snottor. She seems to him to have mastered a sort of art, one of delicate clothing. The Snottor shall endeavor to direct the reader, if they will follow, to this page of her website:  Regardless of everything else to be found (which is quite wonderful), that alone, he thinks, is an inspiring, moving thing to read. He admires her very much, of course for her work, which is very good, but firstly as a person, a person who comes through clearly, he feels, in this page about herself. It is one of his carefully curated indulgences.

For the buyer, sewer, and armchair admirer alike, he hopes her work has something for everyone, although one never can tell. For himself, the Snottor has enjoyed the thought of displaying her lingerie on his admirable body, if a bit stained with dirt from the garden. He is currently investigating her tutorials on Spoonflower.

March : Les Miserables (Part One)

“Love partakes of the soul itself. It is of the same nature. Like it, it is a divine spark; like it, it is incorruptible, indivisible, imperishable. It is a point of fire which is within us, which is immortal and infinite, which nothing can limit and which nothing can extinguish. We feel it burn even in the marrow of our bones, and we see it radiate even to the depths of the sky.”

~Victor Hugo, Les Miserables


Les Miserables might be the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.


The musical edition of the classic is truly incredible (in my opinion) and deeply moving; I have not yet finished the book and one can’t speak with complete authority until the end, but I can say that where the musical ascended the book soars. Unlike many wonderful books, that are rather escapist and make a person never want to leave, Les Miz, no matter how wonderful it is in the reading, makes one want to go live afterward. It’s pretty amazing, not to mention the deep wells of thought and wisdom it is clear that Victor Hugo is drawing on.

But I digress.

It is enough to say that this great work, in all its forms, has made a deep imprint on me, and like most things that have, I must of course draw up clothes for everybody.


Stay tuned for some writing in part two!


What is the best book you have ever read? You all know already what my answer is.