"You can't start a fire without a spark.
The heat is back. Very sunny today. Our high today was 83F, with a heat index of 104F.
But I do not miss all that rain.
I think I forgot to mention that I finished Michael Benson's Space Odyssey: Stanley Kubrick, Arthur C. Clarke, and the Making of a Masterpiece and began two books: (nonfiction) Otto Friedrich's City of Nets: A Portrait of Hollywood in the 1940's and (fiction) Dacre Stoker and J.D. Barker's Dracul, the latter a prequel to Bram Stoker's Dracull. I read a lot of reviews. We'll see if it's any good.
This morning, after not sleeping and getting up at 4 a.m., I wrote the essay for the volume from Cemetery Dance marking the 50th anniversary of the publication of Stephen King's Carrie (1974). It came to 1,377 words, and Kathryn says it's not bad. Well, actually she said it was good and made her want to read the book again. So, huzzah! I got something fucking done. I also went back to work on MP2 in earnest. Maybe the long dry spell has passed. We shall see.
There was a nice email from Bill at SubPress, who has COVID again. I hope he will not mind my quoting this line: have a hard time thinking of anyone who hasn't been scarred in some way by the past few years. I think it a marvelous job of describing not only my own situation, but, in general, the last eight years in America, from Trump's 2016 election through COVID and the chaos of the 2020 riots and the January 2021 insurrection...to now. Scarred. Yes.
Trying to work through the scar tissue. Trying to do my fiction work. Trying to do science. At least for me, it's a tall order.
Anyway, I leave you with this photo that reminds me how much I love the trees of Alabama, often in excess of one hundred feet in height. In Rhode Island, trees like this, especially where we were near the coast, were almost nonexistent. For me they are like the mountains. They hold up the sky.
Please vist the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop and buy something.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8:40 a.m.
But I do not miss all that rain.
I think I forgot to mention that I finished Michael Benson's Space Odyssey: Stanley Kubrick, Arthur C. Clarke, and the Making of a Masterpiece and began two books: (nonfiction) Otto Friedrich's City of Nets: A Portrait of Hollywood in the 1940's and (fiction) Dacre Stoker and J.D. Barker's Dracul, the latter a prequel to Bram Stoker's Dracull. I read a lot of reviews. We'll see if it's any good.
This morning, after not sleeping and getting up at 4 a.m., I wrote the essay for the volume from Cemetery Dance marking the 50th anniversary of the publication of Stephen King's Carrie (1974). It came to 1,377 words, and Kathryn says it's not bad. Well, actually she said it was good and made her want to read the book again. So, huzzah! I got something fucking done. I also went back to work on MP2 in earnest. Maybe the long dry spell has passed. We shall see.
There was a nice email from Bill at SubPress, who has COVID again. I hope he will not mind my quoting this line: have a hard time thinking of anyone who hasn't been scarred in some way by the past few years. I think it a marvelous job of describing not only my own situation, but, in general, the last eight years in America, from Trump's 2016 election through COVID and the chaos of the 2020 riots and the January 2021 insurrection...to now. Scarred. Yes.
Trying to work through the scar tissue. Trying to do my fiction work. Trying to do science. At least for me, it's a tall order.
Anyway, I leave you with this photo that reminds me how much I love the trees of Alabama, often in excess of one hundred feet in height. In Rhode Island, trees like this, especially where we were near the coast, were almost nonexistent. For me they are like the mountains. They hold up the sky.
Please vist the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop and buy something.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8:40 a.m.