"With autumn closin' in."
Warmer roday. Sunny, and our high was 94F, with a heat index of 99F.
I slept a few hours, then spent the day dealing with the last of the Snag, which included writing a letter to the curator of Berkeley's UCMP. I talked with Mike. I talked with Jun, and that was actually a very cheerful sort of conversation. When you learn that someone who tried to end you is so intimidated by your recent scientific accomplishments (and those of a couple of others) that he's throwing in the towel, well...I'm trying not to gloat. But the motherfucker accused me of theft, among other things. No one believed him, but that's not the point.
And long ago he and I were friends. 1981-1988. Or so it usually seemed.
I'm meandering. Right now, I'm juggling three issues of Sirenia Digest, plus The Night Watchers, and half a dozen paleo' projects. I have to keep them all in the air. I have to get them ALL done. The first two are the most urgent, as it's the writing what pays the bills. The paleo' is my reward. I guess I shuld occasionally feel lucky that the thing that pays the bills so I can do the thing I most love isn't such an awful thing in and of itself. And that I seem to be very good at it.
Yeah, thats all cryptic as the love child of Nessie and the Mothman. Maybe someday the tales can be told.
Tomorrow, bitches, I write fiction.
Please visit that marvelous shop of ours, that helps to pay the bills of which I speak.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:01 p.m.
I slept a few hours, then spent the day dealing with the last of the Snag, which included writing a letter to the curator of Berkeley's UCMP. I talked with Mike. I talked with Jun, and that was actually a very cheerful sort of conversation. When you learn that someone who tried to end you is so intimidated by your recent scientific accomplishments (and those of a couple of others) that he's throwing in the towel, well...I'm trying not to gloat. But the motherfucker accused me of theft, among other things. No one believed him, but that's not the point.
And long ago he and I were friends. 1981-1988. Or so it usually seemed.
I'm meandering. Right now, I'm juggling three issues of Sirenia Digest, plus The Night Watchers, and half a dozen paleo' projects. I have to keep them all in the air. I have to get them ALL done. The first two are the most urgent, as it's the writing what pays the bills. The paleo' is my reward. I guess I shuld occasionally feel lucky that the thing that pays the bills so I can do the thing I most love isn't such an awful thing in and of itself. And that I seem to be very good at it.
Yeah, thats all cryptic as the love child of Nessie and the Mothman. Maybe someday the tales can be told.
Tomorrow, bitches, I write fiction.
Please visit that marvelous shop of ours, that helps to pay the bills of which I speak.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:01 p.m.