"Let the dystopian morning light pour in."
The sun came back in earnest today. Our high was 86F.
And I do not even know what I can recall about today. And I am quite sure it does not matter one wit whether I can or can't.
I was out of bed at 4:30 a.m., and I was writing well before 5 a.m. And something amazing happened. Suddenly everything clicked and the section of The Sun Always Shines on TV that has been limping along, just not working, got the lead out (as they say) and starting coming together. Fast. And then, right on cure, about 5:15 a.m., my MicroSoft word locked up and my iMac gave me the spinnong beach-ball of death. Don't know what that is? Well, look it up. Admittedly, this iMac is from 2012, but it's not like I've had money to buy another. Anyway, I spent the next twenty minutes or so panicking and troubleshooting, but nothing worked, and finally, as a last terrifying resort of restarted the machine. And it came back and everything was fine. Most likely, something was running the background causing the problem, but I likely will never know. So, by then it's, let's say 5:45 a.m., a little more than an hour after I got out of bed. I tried hard to get back whatever it was that was making the section work...but it was gone. At least, it was gone for the time being. I wanted to hurl the computer out a window. I will note, this bullshit never would have happened to me with my 1942 Royal Quiet Deluxe typewriter (which still works just fine, when I can score ribbons). Whether or not or technology is "better" now, is sure as fuck is much, much more fragile and less dependable.
So, that was the horror show that was this morning.
I finsihed Streets of Loredo and began Adam Higginbotham's Midnight at Chernobyl, though I was tempted to start with The Secret Garden and re-read everything by Donna Tart.
On a lark, we starked watching Killing Eve tonight. Normally, I avoid BBC stuff. I'm just not fan. But Killing Eve breaks the mold. I never would have known it was BBC, if the information hadn't been there. Excellent cast. Very excellent score. All four seasons are streaming on Netflix.
It's nice to have a fresh batch of the Bashi Marl to work on. And I am making some important mosasaur-related discoveries related to MP2. If only the fiction writing would go as well.
You know what I say next. Please visit the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop. It's not like there's an old time's home for writers.
Later Tat Bean,
Aunt Beast
3:03 p.m.
And I do not even know what I can recall about today. And I am quite sure it does not matter one wit whether I can or can't.
I was out of bed at 4:30 a.m., and I was writing well before 5 a.m. And something amazing happened. Suddenly everything clicked and the section of The Sun Always Shines on TV that has been limping along, just not working, got the lead out (as they say) and starting coming together. Fast. And then, right on cure, about 5:15 a.m., my MicroSoft word locked up and my iMac gave me the spinnong beach-ball of death. Don't know what that is? Well, look it up. Admittedly, this iMac is from 2012, but it's not like I've had money to buy another. Anyway, I spent the next twenty minutes or so panicking and troubleshooting, but nothing worked, and finally, as a last terrifying resort of restarted the machine. And it came back and everything was fine. Most likely, something was running the background causing the problem, but I likely will never know. So, by then it's, let's say 5:45 a.m., a little more than an hour after I got out of bed. I tried hard to get back whatever it was that was making the section work...but it was gone. At least, it was gone for the time being. I wanted to hurl the computer out a window. I will note, this bullshit never would have happened to me with my 1942 Royal Quiet Deluxe typewriter (which still works just fine, when I can score ribbons). Whether or not or technology is "better" now, is sure as fuck is much, much more fragile and less dependable.
So, that was the horror show that was this morning.
I finsihed Streets of Loredo and began Adam Higginbotham's Midnight at Chernobyl, though I was tempted to start with The Secret Garden and re-read everything by Donna Tart.
On a lark, we starked watching Killing Eve tonight. Normally, I avoid BBC stuff. I'm just not fan. But Killing Eve breaks the mold. I never would have known it was BBC, if the information hadn't been there. Excellent cast. Very excellent score. All four seasons are streaming on Netflix.
It's nice to have a fresh batch of the Bashi Marl to work on. And I am making some important mosasaur-related discoveries related to MP2. If only the fiction writing would go as well.
You know what I say next. Please visit the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop. It's not like there's an old time's home for writers.
Later Tat Bean,
Aunt Beast
3:03 p.m.