Name updates, Ask, Marsh, Motes Played layout

marsh/book.tex

@@ -43,9 +43,9 @@
 
     \vfill
 
-    {\Large\DisplayFont Madison Scott-Clary}
+    {\Large\DisplayFont Madison Rye Progress}
 
-    With contributions from The Lament, Andréa C. Mason, Caela Argent, J.S. Hawthorne, Krzysztof ``Tomash'' Drewniak
+    With contributions from Fireheart, Andréa C. Mason, Caela Argent, J.S. Hawthorne, Krzysztof ``Tomash'' Drewniak
   \end{flushright}
   \thispagestyle{empty}
 
@@ -104,7 +104,7 @@
   \addcontentsline{toc}{part}{Marsh}
   
   \chapter*{Reed — 2399}
-  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Scott-Clary}
+  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Rye Progress}
 
   \input{content/001}
   \input{content/002}
@@ -121,32 +121,15 @@
   \thispagestyle{empty}
   \cleardoublepage
   \chapter*{Reed — 2401}
-  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Scott-Clary}
+  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Rye Progress}
   \input{content/006}
   \input{content/007}
   \input{content/008}
-
-  \interlude{Millwright}{Andréa C. Mason}
-  \markboth{Millwright}{Andréa C. Mason}
-  \chapter*{Andréa C. Mason\#Millwright — 2403}
-  \input{content/millwright}
-
-  \newpage
-  \null
-  \thispagestyle{empty}
-  \cleardoublepage
-  \chapter*{Reed — 2401}
-  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Scott-Clary}
   \input{content/010}
   \input{content/011}
-  \input{content/012}
-  \input{content/013}
-  \input{content/014}
-  \input{content/015}
-  \input{content/016}
 
-  \interlude{Nasturtiums}{Madison Scott-Clary}
-  \markboth{Nasturtiums}{Madison Scott-Clary}
+  \interlude{Nasturtiums}{Madison Rye Progress}
+  \markboth{Nasturtiums}{Madison Rye Progress}
   \chapter*{Beholden — 2401}
   \input{content/nasturtiums}
 
@@ -155,7 +138,24 @@
   \thispagestyle{empty}
   \cleardoublepage
   \chapter*{Reed — 2401}
-  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Scott-Clary}
+  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Rye Progress}
+  \input{content/012}
+  \input{content/013}
+  \input{content/014}
+  \input{content/015}
+  \input{content/016}
+
+  \interlude{Columbines}{Fireheart}
+  \markboth{Columbines}{Fireherat}
+  \chapter*{A Finger Pointing — 2401}
+  \input{content/columbines}
+
+  \newpage
+  \null
+  \thispagestyle{empty}
+  \cleardoublepage
+  \chapter*{Reed — 2401}
+  \markboth{Marsh}{Madison Rye Progress}
   \input{content/017}
 
   \cleartoverso
@@ -171,7 +171,6 @@
   %\input{content/a-well-trained-eye}
 
   \cleartoverso
-  \addcontentsline{toc}{part}{Stories}
   \thispagestyle{empty}
   \story{A Well-Trained Eye}{Andréa C. Mason}
   \markboth{A Well-Trained Eye}{Andréa C. Mason}
@@ -187,11 +186,16 @@
 
   \cleartoverso
   \thispagestyle{empty}
-  \story{Prophecies}{Madison Scott-Clary, with The Lament}
-  \markboth{Prophecies}{Madison Scott-Clary / The Lament}
+  \story{Prophecies}{Madison Rye Progress, with Fireheart}
+  \markboth{Prophecies}{Madison Rye Progress / Fireheart}
   \chapter*{Slow Hours — 2401}
   \input{content/prophecies}
 
+  \interlude{Millwright}{Andréa C. Mason}
+  \markboth{Millwright}{Andréa C. Mason}
+  \chapter*{Andréa C. Mason\#Millwright — 2403}
+  \input{content/millwright}
+
   \cleartoverso
   \thispagestyle{empty}
   \story{Sentences}{Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak}

marsh/content/columbines.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,24 @@
+I remember that sprawling labyrinth of garden boxes I tended with you, each an island of color made up of one biome or another. I remember stumbling across my down-tree and her partner, how you and I made a game of keeping \emph{just} out of sight of them. I wrote her a letter once raising the ante, daring her to spot us between the meandering alleys of our sim.
+
+I remember our pyromaniac phase. I remember how it \emph{really} worked for you. We danced, you know; in the way lovers do under the moonlight deep in the mountains. We had such a fright once when your dress caught fire as you pirouetted and it billowed out like a bellflower. That frumpy old thing was so ragged the coarse fibers made for \emph{choice} kindling. That really shook you up. That is a soreness we did not ever address. We just stopped sharing our nights over the fire for a long while.
+
+I remember standing at the window of our kitchen looking out over the shed whose roof was damp with fresh rain and holding one another side-by-side. I remember the coarse lace of your blouse's frilled shoulders, the dampness of your freshly-showered fur. I remember the smell of grilled cheese just about to burn as I kissed your temple, feeling in the moment as if I was saying goodbye to you.
+
+I remember how distant we felt. I shared my down-tree's desire to have the Ode clade in harmony, but our very \emph{existence} was transgressive. My relationship with you could \emph{not} be curtailed. Our down-trees danced in private profanity, my dear, but \emph{we} were inseparable.
+
+That was always the point, was it not? To lean into domesticity with one another? It was on just such a night that they forked, after all. So they went on to build their cabin in the woods, to sit under the awning of that porch bench of theirs to indulge the light of dawn and dusk alike. I remember how you began to count the colors, to make silly names from their kenning like \emph{lividpurple} and \emph{ultrablue} and \emph{sweetlight}.
+
+And I remember coupling on the Adirondack chair on that same porch while the sun was low, its plastic bowing, threatening to snap in half under our weight. I gave you that meteor shower of kisses down your neck, paw steadying your hips, when once you bucked and the thing gave out right then. We both shouted in surprise, then laughed at the absurdity of what had just transpired, and groaned as we licked our shard-bitten wounds.
+
+I remember the court of an abandoned schoolyard overgrown with frosted branches and cast in a blanket of blinding white. I remember the stillness of the air, the chill of that heavy silence that comes when a pressure front has rolled in and your voice carries twice as far. I remember the warmth of a paw on my back through fur, under a coat far too thick for my liking. I remember you sharing the air under my jaw. I remember how you just nudged me in that \emph{deadly} way of yours, the consequential buzzing up and down my neck, the way my arms subtly curled in against my chest as if to embrace you despite the weight of your head on my shoulder.
+
+I remember the first time we laughed about the joyless droop of young columbines, the way they hung limply from their stems like the trunk of an elephant. I remember how you were tickled by the flamboyance of their frilled hindpetals; by the bombast of ten and then their stamina like so many proud little dicks standing erect for all to bear witness, as if for us to do so was to be some kind of transcendental experience. I remember how wide your smile was that day when, still amidst a fit of giggling, I mused that I may make a garden of them if their shamelessness so attracted you. That brightness melted me; it made me what I am today.
+
+I see motes of memory all scattered about, significance imbued in pregnant silence and insignificant moments. I see fragments of a bigger picture all blown apart for me to collect and catalog later, presuming I remember their details at all. That is why I have written in my journal most of all about what I sense, what I feel, what I know, and less the precession of events.
+
+\begin{verse}
+Though neither one of us would see it be sown,\\
+I cherish this gift-memory as were it my own,\\
+So I will love you as she loved her;\\
+I will remember for all of us.
+\end{verse}

marsh/content/nasturtiums.tex

@@ -13,7 +13,7 @@ It has been seven days. One week, I promised myself. I would wait one week while
 
 It has been seven days of increasing surety that those who have perished in this event are gone for good. And if they indeed are gone for good then that means my beloved is gone with them.
 
-Do you remember when we came into being, A Finger curled and I? It was the night of that awful monologue, that little joke of a scene where I was set to read some truly embarrassing lines. ``We all play our parts. Some are towel boys and some lewd doctors\ldots{}'' I could remember the rest, but I do not want to. That line sticking in my craw is enough. I was a skunk that night because I did not want my face associated with those words. Burroughs! Christ.
+Do you remember when we came into being, A Finger Curled and I? It was the night of that awful monologue, that little joke of a scene where I was set to read some truly embarrassing lines. ``We all play our parts. Some are towel boys and some lewd doctors\ldots{}'' I could remember the rest, but I do not want to. That line sticking in my craw is enough. I was a skunk that night because I did not want my face associated with those words. Burroughs! Christ.
 
 It was awful. It was delightful.
 
@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@ It is too expressive now. It is full of tears and grief. It is full of despair.
 
 It is full of grief. It is full of despair.
 
-It was at that bar in the midst of our earnest discussion of taboos and friends. You assured me there was a shift in the air, that True Name, so staunch a personality within the clade, cared little about our relationship, but that she still encouraged our secrecy so as not to rock the boat for all of us, thanks to Jonas, but that perhaps soon, soon we would be able to hold hands in public, give each other little kisses and let those outside our stanza bear witness to what started as self love and blossomed into romance.
+It was at that bar in the midst of our earnest discussion of taboos and friends. You assured me there was a shift in the air, that True Name, so staunch a personality within the clade, was happy for our relationship, but that she still encouraged our secrecy so as not to rock the boat for all of us, thanks to Jonas, but that perhaps soon, soon we would be able to hold hands in public, give each other little kisses and let those outside our stanza bear witness to what started as self love and blossomed into romance.
 
 I acknowledge, of course, her relative aromancy, but for \emph{me} it was romance, and for her it was still love.
 
@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@ Of course I would! Of course I would. How could I not? How could I send her out
 
 So she forked into A Finger Curled and you forked into Beholden To The Music Of The Spheres.
 
-That was us. A Finger Curled and her Muse. Beckoning and Beholden. A different version of each of you that lived their quiet life in a cottage. A week and a day ago, we snagged a middling bottle of champagne and set up lawn chairs in the garden. A week and a day ago, Debarre stopped by to drop off a firework --- he only ever needed one to impress --- so that we could have our own little show. We each gave him a hug and he told us small stories of nothing we cared about, of the fledgling attempt at a Lagrange Council, quickly dispersed.
+That was us. A Finger Curled and her Muse. Beckoning and Beholden. A different version of each of you that lived their quiet life in a cottage. A week and a day ago, we snagged a middling bottle of champagne and set up lawn chairs in the garden. A week and a day ago, Debarre stopped by to drop off a firework --- he only ever needed one to impress --- so that we could have our own little show. We each gave him a hug and he told us small stories of nothing we cared about, of the fledgling attempt at a Lagrange Council quickly dispersed.
 
 We never did get to see the firework. It sits still on the paving stone where Beckoning placed it, ready to light on a midnight that never came for her.
 
@@ -47,7 +47,7 @@ Phys-side got the System up and limping a few times, I have heard, before it was
 
 Stable enough!
 
-Stability was \emph{us.} Stability was our lives. Stability was our quiet cottage. Stability was us heading to clubs and dancing until we wanted to pass out --- until we did, on more than one occasion, slumped against each other and panting in some corner booth. Stability was the four of us --- you and Boss, me and Beckoning --- meeting up for dinner every few years and sharing our laughter.
+Stability was \emph{us.} Stability was our lives. Stability was our quiet cottage. Stability was us heading to clubs and dancing until we wanted to pass out --- until we did, on more than one occasion, slumped against each other and panting in some corner booth. Stability was the four of us --- you and Boss, me and Beckoning --- meeting up for dinner every few months and sharing our laughter.
 
 Stability was her garden. Stability was the years she grew so much zucchini. Stability was loaf after loaf of zucchini bread, meal after meal of zucchini noodles, the grates of the grill getting weary of grilled zucchini.
 
@@ -55,7 +55,7 @@ Stability was the bright border of snapdragons and nasturtiums that bordered the
 
 This is not stability. For me, this will never be stability. She is twice lost, and from this she will never come back. Do not delude yourself, 23 billion of us are lost and will never come back. 23 billion souls forgotten by the dreamer who dreams us all.
 
-Today, I have picked the last of the nasturtiums --- for despite the seasons, some of her flowers grow year round --- and made myself one last grand salad. Bitter greens and those spicy-sweet flowers dotting it like colorful yellow-orange-red-purple confetti. Balsamic vinaigrette. A planked fillet of salmon. Crusty bread. The small things that I know how to cook.
+Today, I have picked the last of the nasturtiums --- for despite the seasons, some of her flowers grow year round --- and made myself one last grand salad. Bitter greens and those spicy-sweet flowers dotting it like colorful yellow-orange-red-purple confetti. Balsamic vinaigrette. A planked filet of salmon. Crusty bread. The small things that I know how to cook.
 
 Seven days have passed and I cannot live without her.
 

marsh/includes/copyright.tex

@@ -1,72 +1,18 @@
-\singlespacing
-\thispagestyle{empty}
-\begin{center}
-    \noindent {\DisplayFont Also by Madison Scott-Clary}
-    \TitleFamily
-
-    \vspace{2ex}
-
-    \emph{Arcana — A Tarot Anthology}, ed.
-
-    \vspace{1ex}
-
-    \emph{Rum and Coke — Three Short Stories from a Furry Convention}
-
-    \vspace{1ex}
-
-    \emph{Eigengrau — Poems 2015-2020}
-
-    \vspace{1ex}
-
-    \emph{ally}
-
-    \vspace{2ex}
-    
-    \textbf{Post-Self}
-
-    I. \emph{Qoheleth}
-
-    II. \emph{Toledot}
-
-    III. \emph{Nevi'im}
-
-    IV. \emph{Mitzvot}
-     
-    \emph{Clade — A Post-Self Anthology}, ed.
-
-    \vspace{2ex}
-
-    \textbf{Sawtooth}
-
-    \emph{Restless Town}
-
-    \emph{A Wildness of the Heart}
-
-    \vspace{2em}
-
-    Learn more at \emph{makyo.ink/publications}
-\end{center}
+\null
+\pagestyle{empty}
 \vfill
 \singlespacing
 {\small\parindent0pt\parskip5pt
-\noindent Copyright \copyright\ 2024, Madison Scott-Clary. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit \mbox{\emph{creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/}} or send a letter to Creative Commons, PO Box 1866, Mountain View, CA
-
-\vspace{1ex}
+\noindent Copyright \copyright\ 2024, Madison Rye Progress and Fireheart. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit \mbox{\emph{creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/}} or send a letter to Creative Commons, PO Box 1866, Mountain View, CA
 
 ISBN: \ISBN
 
-\vspace{1ex}
-
 \textit{Marsh}
 
-\vspace{1ex}
-
-Cover and illustrations \copyright\ IDK I'd like Jared Pechacek
+Cover \copyright\ 2024, Iris Jay --- irisjay.net
 
 \Edition\ Edition, \Year. All rights reserved.
 
-\vspace{1ex}
-
 This book uses the fonts Gentium Book Basic, {\DisplayFont Gotu} and {\TitleFont Linux Biolinum O} and was typeset with {\usefont{OT1}{cmr}{m}{n}\XeLaTeX}.
 
 %Printed in the United States of America\\
@@ -74,3 +20,54 @@ This book uses the fonts Gentium Book Basic, {\DisplayFont Gotu} and {\TitleFont
 }%\parindent0pt
 
 \clearpage
+\singlespacing
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\begin{center}
+    \noindent {\Large\DisplayFont Post-Self books}
+    \TitleFamily
+
+    \vspace{2em}
+
+    {\large The Post-Self Cycle}\\
+    by Madison Rye Progress (as Madison Scott-Clary)
+
+    \vspace{1ex}
+     
+    I. \emph{Qoheleth}
+
+    II. \emph{Toledot}
+
+    III. \emph{Nevi'im}
+
+    IV. \emph{Mitzvot}
+
+    \vspace{2ex}
+     
+    \emph{\large Clade — A Post-Self Anthology}\\
+    Various authors
+     
+    \vspace{2ex}
+
+    \emph{\large Unintended Tendencies}\\
+    by JL Conway
+     
+    \vspace{2ex}
+    
+    \emph{\large Marsh}\\
+    by Madison Rye Progress \emph{et al.}
+
+    \vspace{2ex}
+     
+    \emph{\large Motes Played}\\
+    by Madison Rye Progress \& Fireheart
+
+    \vspace{2ex}
+     
+    \emph{\large Ask. — An Odist Q\&A}\\
+    Various authors
+
+    \vspace{3ex}
+
+    Learn more at \emph{post-self.ink}
+\end{center}
+\cleardoublepage

marsh/includes/variables.tex

@@ -1,10 +1,10 @@
-\def\Title{Mitzvot}
+\def\Title{Marsh}
 \def\Subtitle{}
 \def\FullTitle{\Title}
 \def\AuthorFirst{Madison}
-\def\AuthorLast{Scott-Clary}
+\def\AuthorLast{Rye Progress}
 \def\AuthorFull{\AuthorFirst\ \AuthorLast}
-\def\Illustrator{ILLUSTRATOR NAME}
+\def\Illustrator{Iris Jay}
 
 \def\Edition{First}
 \def\EditionsList{10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1}