"Walk in the way of my soft resurrection."
The sun is bright today, the sky is blue. I don't want to be sitting here. I want to breathe in deeply and taste clean air. I want to smell the sea, a forest, stone, sweat, hot asphalt. The world. Anything but this dusty room. It's only 48˚F out there, and that should be plenty enough to keep me from wanting to step out of doors, but it isn't working. There's an exhaustion nested deep in my every cell, and it is a weariness of this chair, my fingers on these keys, my eyes on this screen. I need to buy a pair of jeans. I could go do that. It would mean going to the mall, and I'm not very fond of the mall, but it might not be as bad as this room. The wind is working at stripping the tree outside my window. The wind and I aren't on the best of terms.
Yesterday, I managed to write four pages of Alabaster: The Good, the Bad, and the Bird. That gets me to Page Fourteen. Only nine to go. And then three more issues (sixty-six more pages). And then it will be over.
I had to sit down yesterday and figure out the publication history for "Andromeda Among the Stones" for S.T. Joshi. I was surprised to discover it might be one of my most reprinted stories:
1. Chapbook for Embrace the Mutation (Subterranean Press, 2002).
2. The Mammoth Book of New Terror (Robinson, UK, 2004)
3. To Charles Fort, With Love (Subterranean Press, 2005)
4. Subterranean Magazine, Issue #2 (Subterranean Press, 2005)
5. Two Worlds and In Between: The Best of Me (Volume 1) (Subterranean Press, 2011)
6. The Book of Cthulhu (Night Shade Books, 2011)
Fortunately, unlike its author, the story has aged well.
My thanks to sovay for sharing this dream with me:
I took the train to visit you and Spooky, although you had moved: you were living in a white, Colonial-style house set back from the road, on a sloping lawn with huge, autumn-shaggy trees slowly drifting leaf-trails on the wet grass. There was a Dimetrodon on the lawn. It was autumn-colored; its skin much more closely resembled a salamander's than a lizard's, scale-less and dully shining. Its sail was ribbed the same rust-and-bronze-orange as the fallen leaves. We watched it for a while.
My coffee is getting cold, like everything else.
Later,
Aunt Beast
Yesterday, I managed to write four pages of Alabaster: The Good, the Bad, and the Bird. That gets me to Page Fourteen. Only nine to go. And then three more issues (sixty-six more pages). And then it will be over.
I had to sit down yesterday and figure out the publication history for "Andromeda Among the Stones" for S.T. Joshi. I was surprised to discover it might be one of my most reprinted stories:
1. Chapbook for Embrace the Mutation (Subterranean Press, 2002).
2. The Mammoth Book of New Terror (Robinson, UK, 2004)
3. To Charles Fort, With Love (Subterranean Press, 2005)
4. Subterranean Magazine, Issue #2 (Subterranean Press, 2005)
5. Two Worlds and In Between: The Best of Me (Volume 1) (Subterranean Press, 2011)
6. The Book of Cthulhu (Night Shade Books, 2011)
Fortunately, unlike its author, the story has aged well.
My thanks to sovay for sharing this dream with me:
I took the train to visit you and Spooky, although you had moved: you were living in a white, Colonial-style house set back from the road, on a sloping lawn with huge, autumn-shaggy trees slowly drifting leaf-trails on the wet grass. There was a Dimetrodon on the lawn. It was autumn-colored; its skin much more closely resembled a salamander's than a lizard's, scale-less and dully shining. Its sail was ribbed the same rust-and-bronze-orange as the fallen leaves. We watched it for a while.
My coffee is getting cold, like everything else.
Later,
Aunt Beast