"I saw the cresent; you saw the whole of the moon."
Extremely hot today. Sunny, hardly a cloud in sight, and our high was (so far) 94F, with a heat index of 104F.
I think I slept three hours last night. This has got to stop. I spent the day sick and zombiefied with I sleep as little as that. I can make do with four or five hours, if it's good sleep. But I've hardly slept three hours a night the past two nights.
Regardless, I did get some work on MP2 done. There was a good conversation with Mike P. I began writing the portion of the ms. devoted to the dermatocranium (the roof of the skull) in this new taxon, starting with the frontal and parietal. I also spoke with Daneil Chabon at Dark Horse Comics (hadn't heard from them is ages); I've been asked to write an introduction for Richard Corbin's graphic novel, Rat God. I've been a great admirer of Corbin's since way back in the 70s, when I was but a kiddo. So, of course I said yes.
Last night we saw Jane Schoenbrun's goofy I Saw the TV Glow (2024), and Kathryn and I were far from impressed. I'll stop shy of saying we full on disliked it, but...close. All in all, somewhat amateurish, poorly acted, poorly directed. The little cameos by Amber Benson, Fred Durst, and Phoene Snow really did add much. At one point I found myself thinking, "If David Lynch made a Gen Z Buffy the Vampire Slayer, only he made a mess of it, it would be this." Later, Kathryn admitted to having an almost identical thought. Skip this one, if you want my advice. There might have been an intriguing idea buried in there somewhere, but it never came to the surface and the whole affair felt more like some "creepypasta" podcast than an actual movie.
The work on the bathroom ceiling is still incomplete.
Something I said today on Twitter: "Are you a writer who does paleontology or a paleontologist who writes fiction?" I get asked this quite frequently, and it's just sort of a dumb question. I pay my bills from my fiction. But I take greater joy in science. But I *am* both, equally, fiction writer & paleontologist.
Please visit the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop. The books must flow.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8:50 a.m.
I think I slept three hours last night. This has got to stop. I spent the day sick and zombiefied with I sleep as little as that. I can make do with four or five hours, if it's good sleep. But I've hardly slept three hours a night the past two nights.
Regardless, I did get some work on MP2 done. There was a good conversation with Mike P. I began writing the portion of the ms. devoted to the dermatocranium (the roof of the skull) in this new taxon, starting with the frontal and parietal. I also spoke with Daneil Chabon at Dark Horse Comics (hadn't heard from them is ages); I've been asked to write an introduction for Richard Corbin's graphic novel, Rat God. I've been a great admirer of Corbin's since way back in the 70s, when I was but a kiddo. So, of course I said yes.
Last night we saw Jane Schoenbrun's goofy I Saw the TV Glow (2024), and Kathryn and I were far from impressed. I'll stop shy of saying we full on disliked it, but...close. All in all, somewhat amateurish, poorly acted, poorly directed. The little cameos by Amber Benson, Fred Durst, and Phoene Snow really did add much. At one point I found myself thinking, "If David Lynch made a Gen Z Buffy the Vampire Slayer, only he made a mess of it, it would be this." Later, Kathryn admitted to having an almost identical thought. Skip this one, if you want my advice. There might have been an intriguing idea buried in there somewhere, but it never came to the surface and the whole affair felt more like some "creepypasta" podcast than an actual movie.
The work on the bathroom ceiling is still incomplete.
Something I said today on Twitter: "Are you a writer who does paleontology or a paleontologist who writes fiction?" I get asked this quite frequently, and it's just sort of a dumb question. I pay my bills from my fiction. But I take greater joy in science. But I *am* both, equally, fiction writer & paleontologist.
Please visit the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop. The books must flow.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8:50 a.m.