"She courts the shadows. She swings about the gallows."
And then there was today. God, I can be stupid. The alarm on my iPhone woke me at - it said, and I believed it - 4:30 a.m. In point of fact, the world went back to Daylight Saving Time last night, which I live on all year. But the effect was I got an hour earlier than intended, meaning I slept a good bit less than four hours. By the time I was awake enough to realize the mistake, well, I was too caffeinated to have any chance of getting back to sleep. So, between about 4 a.m. and 8 a.m. (when I had to wake Kathryn), I finished typing all the line edits into the ms. for Bright Dead Star: "Neither From Nor Towards," "Metamorphosis D (Imago)," "Ovid Under Glass," "Passage of Venus in Front of the Sun," "Ulysses and the Sirens," "Strandling," and (phew) "Night Fishing."
By then, not so long after sunrise, I was wiped out. Fried. Righteously pooped. Then I read the introduction aloud to Kathryn and discovered it needs proofreading/correcting, so there's still that to do, and I might write an afterword, maybe. About censorship, and, in particular, about the irony of the Left's recent role in openly, brazenly working to curtail free speech in America, including, even, the ACLU. You expect this shit from the GOP and the evangelicals, but...anyway. If I have time. What the hell am I saying. I don't have time to breathe.
Last night I had hot dogs! For the first time in probaly two years. Eating is just shy of a religous experience at this point.
This afternoon, after I'd recovered ever so slightly from all the work and all the not sleeping, I had a short conversation with Dr. Nick Longrich, the Alaska-born paleontologist transplanted to England (Bath) who was lead investigator on the recently described African selmasaurin mosasaur, Khinjaria acuta. Mostly, we talked about phylogenetics and the merits of this, that, and the other character matrix and of various methodologies. It was just very cool, finally talking with someone whom I have so long admired from a distance. He also coauthored papers naming the mosasaurs Stelladens mysteriosus, Thalassotitan atrox, Xenodens calminechari, and Pluridens serpentis (I've only named three mosasaurs so far).
But that was today. It was sunny, though the high was only 61F and we have a freeze warning tonight, with lows of 36F. Farmers have to worry about the frost. I worry for the peaches in Chilton County. Anyway, I'll have hot dogs again for my dinner, though first I have RP with Chris, and then I have to call Sonya.
Fuck, I'm tired.
Okay, I am reposting this. Because, at the moment, we are truly in dire straits financilly, and I cannot afford the luxury of dignity:
"So, yeah. Between horrific vet bills, and my horrific dental bills, and the way our rent keeps going up, and the way I'm paid pretty much in 2024 what I was paid in 1997, and the fact that I am no longer able to the write the vast amounts of fiction I once did, and the skyrocketing price of goceries, and politics, and on and on and on and on...we can presently use whatever help charitable souls feel inclined to off. I am going to start a GoFundMe in a few days, hoping to raise just enough to cover rent for April through June. I pray (figuratively that it goes well.
"Meanwhile, there's the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop, and there's FREE COLOUR monster doodles with Vile Affections.
"And, too, Kathryn's Patreon is up, and I urge you to take a look, and think about supoorting it if you can.
"But these days, everyone is hurting, and I am not special, and I understand that. Still, I have always been most proud of those stretches (most of the nineties for example, and much of the time we were in Providence), when I was able to support myself with no assistance. I don't care what gasoline costs, I still feel like a failure at times like these.
"Fuck it. Doesn't matter how many books I've published or how many new animals I've named; all that matters is the bank account, and my education and IQ (149) won't save me."
And so it goes,
Aunt Beast, Queen of the Plioplatecarpines, Mother of Ancient Sea Dragons (I want that on my headstone)
8:48 a.m.
By then, not so long after sunrise, I was wiped out. Fried. Righteously pooped. Then I read the introduction aloud to Kathryn and discovered it needs proofreading/correcting, so there's still that to do, and I might write an afterword, maybe. About censorship, and, in particular, about the irony of the Left's recent role in openly, brazenly working to curtail free speech in America, including, even, the ACLU. You expect this shit from the GOP and the evangelicals, but...anyway. If I have time. What the hell am I saying. I don't have time to breathe.
Last night I had hot dogs! For the first time in probaly two years. Eating is just shy of a religous experience at this point.
This afternoon, after I'd recovered ever so slightly from all the work and all the not sleeping, I had a short conversation with Dr. Nick Longrich, the Alaska-born paleontologist transplanted to England (Bath) who was lead investigator on the recently described African selmasaurin mosasaur, Khinjaria acuta. Mostly, we talked about phylogenetics and the merits of this, that, and the other character matrix and of various methodologies. It was just very cool, finally talking with someone whom I have so long admired from a distance. He also coauthored papers naming the mosasaurs Stelladens mysteriosus, Thalassotitan atrox, Xenodens calminechari, and Pluridens serpentis (I've only named three mosasaurs so far).
But that was today. It was sunny, though the high was only 61F and we have a freeze warning tonight, with lows of 36F. Farmers have to worry about the frost. I worry for the peaches in Chilton County. Anyway, I'll have hot dogs again for my dinner, though first I have RP with Chris, and then I have to call Sonya.
Fuck, I'm tired.
Okay, I am reposting this. Because, at the moment, we are truly in dire straits financilly, and I cannot afford the luxury of dignity:
"So, yeah. Between horrific vet bills, and my horrific dental bills, and the way our rent keeps going up, and the way I'm paid pretty much in 2024 what I was paid in 1997, and the fact that I am no longer able to the write the vast amounts of fiction I once did, and the skyrocketing price of goceries, and politics, and on and on and on and on...we can presently use whatever help charitable souls feel inclined to off. I am going to start a GoFundMe in a few days, hoping to raise just enough to cover rent for April through June. I pray (figuratively that it goes well.
"Meanwhile, there's the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop, and there's FREE COLOUR monster doodles with Vile Affections.
"And, too, Kathryn's Patreon is up, and I urge you to take a look, and think about supoorting it if you can.
"But these days, everyone is hurting, and I am not special, and I understand that. Still, I have always been most proud of those stretches (most of the nineties for example, and much of the time we were in Providence), when I was able to support myself with no assistance. I don't care what gasoline costs, I still feel like a failure at times like these.
"Fuck it. Doesn't matter how many books I've published or how many new animals I've named; all that matters is the bank account, and my education and IQ (149) won't save me."
And so it goes,
Aunt Beast, Queen of the Plioplatecarpines, Mother of Ancient Sea Dragons (I want that on my headstone)
8:48 a.m.