"Even the noise you make when you sleep."
We've been creeping back towards summer weather since Arthur passed by. Today, the high is forecast at 84˚F. It's sunny, with a few scattered clouds. I can stand to be under a sky like that.
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions, which are making it possible for us to pay an unexpected vet bill. Thank you. I very much hope that the copy of From Weird and Distant Shores (Subterranean Press, 2002) goes for more than the current bid, as it's one of our last copies. Some of these stories - including collaborations with Christa Faust and Billy Martin ("Poppy Z. Brite") have appeared nowhere else since they were brought together in this volume. The auction ends in just under four hours.
Yesterday, I wrote 969 words on "Far From Any Shore." And almost found the end. But there was a truly silly distraction that kept me from being able to summon the requisite focus. There's a lot of that going on these days. Today, though, I'll find THE END to this story that I've been working on since June 25th. It will appear in Sirenia Digest #101 (which is late).
Yesterday evening, on Facebook, I wrote:
I have this terrible feeling, that seems to grow stronger with each day, that I am simply no longer capable of keeping pace with what appears, to me, to be a world obsessed with gratuitous, exponentially increasing complexity. It makes feel like an idiot, something I know damn well I'm not. More and more, I find myself simply opting out. But in doing this I also sense my relevance is declining. I want to hide from a world that, truthfully, has ceased to make sense to me.
The irony that I wrote this on Facebook is not lost on me. Anyway, I'd thought I might elaborate on that thought in this entry, but I haven't really got the time just now. I can't afford to risk being distracted from writing. And everything, everything, everything distracts me from writing, distracts my brain.
This is the Age of Distraction.
We finished Season Two of Misfits last night. I fear the creators very nearly broke the show with the changes between Season Two and Three. But the third episode of Season Three got a bit better, so...I have hope. Still, we miss Nathan, and I don't think replacing a likable twat with an unlikeable twat was necessarily the smartest move. A completely different sort of character would have been a wiser course of action. Still, this series is so much better than, say, Heroes - essentially its American counterpart - that it's impressive. It makes me think of something Vertigo Comics might have produced during its very brief heyday, back in the first half of the nineties.
Gotta Scoot (please bid!),
Aunt Beast
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions, which are making it possible for us to pay an unexpected vet bill. Thank you. I very much hope that the copy of From Weird and Distant Shores (Subterranean Press, 2002) goes for more than the current bid, as it's one of our last copies. Some of these stories - including collaborations with Christa Faust and Billy Martin ("Poppy Z. Brite") have appeared nowhere else since they were brought together in this volume. The auction ends in just under four hours.
Yesterday, I wrote 969 words on "Far From Any Shore." And almost found the end. But there was a truly silly distraction that kept me from being able to summon the requisite focus. There's a lot of that going on these days. Today, though, I'll find THE END to this story that I've been working on since June 25th. It will appear in Sirenia Digest #101 (which is late).
Yesterday evening, on Facebook, I wrote:
I have this terrible feeling, that seems to grow stronger with each day, that I am simply no longer capable of keeping pace with what appears, to me, to be a world obsessed with gratuitous, exponentially increasing complexity. It makes feel like an idiot, something I know damn well I'm not. More and more, I find myself simply opting out. But in doing this I also sense my relevance is declining. I want to hide from a world that, truthfully, has ceased to make sense to me.
The irony that I wrote this on Facebook is not lost on me. Anyway, I'd thought I might elaborate on that thought in this entry, but I haven't really got the time just now. I can't afford to risk being distracted from writing. And everything, everything, everything distracts me from writing, distracts my brain.
This is the Age of Distraction.
We finished Season Two of Misfits last night. I fear the creators very nearly broke the show with the changes between Season Two and Three. But the third episode of Season Three got a bit better, so...I have hope. Still, we miss Nathan, and I don't think replacing a likable twat with an unlikeable twat was necessarily the smartest move. A completely different sort of character would have been a wiser course of action. Still, this series is so much better than, say, Heroes - essentially its American counterpart - that it's impressive. It makes me think of something Vertigo Comics might have produced during its very brief heyday, back in the first half of the nineties.
Gotta Scoot (please bid!),
Aunt Beast