"When this world has failed me..." (39)
Or when I have failed this world.
Sunny today, mostly. Our high was 85˚F, with a heat index of 89˚F.
I think the sorrow is finally catching up to me, as the shock wears off. I'll circle back to that in a later entry. I can't do it right now.
I only slept four hours, the woke ill, but I was working by 7 a.m. I read "Our Lady of Tharsis Tholus" again and started reading "Another Tale of Two Cities." Then I stopped and emailed Bill and asked if he minds if I cut the former from Bradbury Weather. It's really a sorta train wreck. There a good story trapped in there, but I don't have the time it would take to rewrite it, not now. Maybe never. It was written during that unfortunate period when my doctor had me on a very high dose of Gabepentin to try and deal with both my PTSD and my peripheral neuropathy, and the drug made me dumb as hell. Wait, I've told you lot this already. Anyway, I told Bill I'd replace it with "The Melusine (1898)," which is actually a much, much better story, and he was agreeable. So, good riddance "Our Lady of Tharsis Tholus." I really wish you were a better story. Near as I can tell, though it also suffered from the Gabapentin haze, "Another Tale of Two Cities" is salvageable.
Then I did some work on MP2, mostly combining the "Literature Cited" sections. And then I spent an hour writing a 582-word biography for World Fantasy 2022. Originally, I was to appear as a special guest or whatever it's called, but Omicron makes that extremely unwise. No way I'm shaking sweaty hands and signing books for people. Instead, I will be present via a number of virtual appearances, all prerecorded. I wanted to go to New Orleans (I haven't been since 2013), and I wanted to meet Andrei Codrescu. But I have to try to stay well right now.
I talked to Sandy Ebersole at the State Geological Survey in Tuscaloosa, and I'm meeting with here next Thursday afternoon at the survey to discuss a short paper we're planning to coauthor.
So, there was actually a lot of work for someone who slept four hours.
Okay, kittens. Here's the skinny. Our taxes are due soon, and we're worried it's really gonna be a blow this year. And I don't wanna have to do a GoFundMe. Instead, I'm hoping that our sales from the Big Cartel shop will really help. Kathryn had added tie-dyed tshirts, and she's just put up Sirenia Digest Year Four. And there is other cool stuff. And I sign things. So, please do and have a look. All sales go towards keeping us from getting in dutch with the damned IRS. Thank you.
And Queen Elizabeth has died. How utterly unthinkable is that?
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
1:56 p.m. (yesterday)
Sunny today, mostly. Our high was 85˚F, with a heat index of 89˚F.
I think the sorrow is finally catching up to me, as the shock wears off. I'll circle back to that in a later entry. I can't do it right now.
I only slept four hours, the woke ill, but I was working by 7 a.m. I read "Our Lady of Tharsis Tholus" again and started reading "Another Tale of Two Cities." Then I stopped and emailed Bill and asked if he minds if I cut the former from Bradbury Weather. It's really a sorta train wreck. There a good story trapped in there, but I don't have the time it would take to rewrite it, not now. Maybe never. It was written during that unfortunate period when my doctor had me on a very high dose of Gabepentin to try and deal with both my PTSD and my peripheral neuropathy, and the drug made me dumb as hell. Wait, I've told you lot this already. Anyway, I told Bill I'd replace it with "The Melusine (1898)," which is actually a much, much better story, and he was agreeable. So, good riddance "Our Lady of Tharsis Tholus." I really wish you were a better story. Near as I can tell, though it also suffered from the Gabapentin haze, "Another Tale of Two Cities" is salvageable.
Then I did some work on MP2, mostly combining the "Literature Cited" sections. And then I spent an hour writing a 582-word biography for World Fantasy 2022. Originally, I was to appear as a special guest or whatever it's called, but Omicron makes that extremely unwise. No way I'm shaking sweaty hands and signing books for people. Instead, I will be present via a number of virtual appearances, all prerecorded. I wanted to go to New Orleans (I haven't been since 2013), and I wanted to meet Andrei Codrescu. But I have to try to stay well right now.
I talked to Sandy Ebersole at the State Geological Survey in Tuscaloosa, and I'm meeting with here next Thursday afternoon at the survey to discuss a short paper we're planning to coauthor.
So, there was actually a lot of work for someone who slept four hours.
Okay, kittens. Here's the skinny. Our taxes are due soon, and we're worried it's really gonna be a blow this year. And I don't wanna have to do a GoFundMe. Instead, I'm hoping that our sales from the Big Cartel shop will really help. Kathryn had added tie-dyed tshirts, and she's just put up Sirenia Digest Year Four. And there is other cool stuff. And I sign things. So, please do and have a look. All sales go towards keeping us from getting in dutch with the damned IRS. Thank you.
And Queen Elizabeth has died. How utterly unthinkable is that?
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
1:56 p.m. (yesterday)