Howard Hughes, More Shit
Yesterday, I emailed the editor for whom I was trying to write "Beyond the Laughing Sky," and I bowed out of the book. The deadline was fast approaching, and I explained that, realistically, given this dry spell, this bout of writer's block, this What-The-Fuck-Ever, it was unrealistic of me to think I could actually complete that story now. I think I felt relief for about two minutes, and then I just felt like shit. There is no relief in admitting defeat. I hope to try and come back to the story, someday.
Cooler weather today. I think we're going to RISD.
On average, I spend a good fourteen hours a day in this room, which is about eleven feet by eleven feet. And, for the most part, that's the way things have been for the last eight years. Eight years and three months. Nine summers. I would imagine it's a bit like prison, only I do at least, in theory, have the freedom to leave this room whenever I wish. Still, I would imagine most prisoners get quite a bit more exercise than I do, and that most of them have more robust social lives.
We watched a bit of the Dresden Dolls show streaming from Coney island last night and reminisced about a Dolls show at the long-defunct Echo Lounge in Atlanta, twelve years ago, 16 October, 2004.
We finally finished Series 8 of Doctor Who last night. It's taken us two years to get through it. But, to my surprise, I actually enjoyed the final two-parter, "Dark Water" and "Death in Heaven." It helps that the former begins with Pink getting hit by a car. I took that as a step in the right direction. I desperately hope Series 9 is better, and I hope that the show recovers when it is finally free of Moffat. It has survived worse. Oh, and now it is canon that Time Lords can switch sex from one regeneration to the next, so there's that.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
Cooler weather today. I think we're going to RISD.
On average, I spend a good fourteen hours a day in this room, which is about eleven feet by eleven feet. And, for the most part, that's the way things have been for the last eight years. Eight years and three months. Nine summers. I would imagine it's a bit like prison, only I do at least, in theory, have the freedom to leave this room whenever I wish. Still, I would imagine most prisoners get quite a bit more exercise than I do, and that most of them have more robust social lives.
We watched a bit of the Dresden Dolls show streaming from Coney island last night and reminisced about a Dolls show at the long-defunct Echo Lounge in Atlanta, twelve years ago, 16 October, 2004.
We finally finished Series 8 of Doctor Who last night. It's taken us two years to get through it. But, to my surprise, I actually enjoyed the final two-parter, "Dark Water" and "Death in Heaven." It helps that the former begins with Pink getting hit by a car. I took that as a step in the right direction. I desperately hope Series 9 is better, and I hope that the show recovers when it is finally free of Moffat. It has survived worse. Oh, and now it is canon that Time Lords can switch sex from one regeneration to the next, so there's that.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast