“The weather! My God! It’s…everywhere.”
Sunny, also partly cloudy today. Our high was 89F, with a heat index of 98F.
Despite four hours sleep, I wrote most of the section in the chapbook involving the John Sowden House, but...I don't think the voice is right. I don't know of this is something that can be fixed with a gloss or if I need to redo the section. Obviously, a gloss is preferable. I also worked on the jugal section of MP2, and I spoke (via email) with Mike P. and (also via email) with PS Publishing. Fuck sleep. Sleep is for pussies.
We are supposed to say that anymore are we? If those who agonize so much over proper and inoffensive speech could only hear how the circle of dykes, trannys, fags, drag queens, genderqueer, bisexuals, bears, and what have you casually spoke of ourselves in the early 1990s (we only had about eight shoeboxes back then) s, well, they would blanch. Oh, and I know we're not supposed to say "trannys" (or "trannies") anymore, that Ru Paul got in trouble for that, but I used it to refer to myself beginning in 1989, and...it still works for me. We all considered ourselves "queer," by the way. Few things are more fascist that dictating how people should refer to themselves. I mean...you do know that a great many of those terms have been invented, and to varying degrees the concept accompanying them, during the last twenty years, right? It's not a secret.
Last night, another good film, Ethan Coen's Drive-Away Dolls (speaking of dykes). Loved it. It owes much to a marvelous performance by Margaret Qualley (who I also loved in Tarantono's Once Upon a Time Ago...in Hollywood). Funny, irreverent, over-the-top, raunchy, smart, and just the right sort of nostalgia. Plus Matt Damon and an uncredited Miley Cyrus. See it.
Okay, hate to bring this up again, but...the Rent Party Sale is not over. We're close, but no cigar. Not qute yet. I'm gonna draw you attention to a couple of things in the shop. First, an ARC set including both Bradbury Weather and Living a Boy's Sdventure Tale. And the other thing, and the other thing, the trade hardabck of the very long out-of-print Tales from the Woeful Platypus (2006). You can't go wrong with either of these. And you'll be helping us get over this line. Thank you.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
12:24 p.m.
Despite four hours sleep, I wrote most of the section in the chapbook involving the John Sowden House, but...I don't think the voice is right. I don't know of this is something that can be fixed with a gloss or if I need to redo the section. Obviously, a gloss is preferable. I also worked on the jugal section of MP2, and I spoke (via email) with Mike P. and (also via email) with PS Publishing. Fuck sleep. Sleep is for pussies.
We are supposed to say that anymore are we? If those who agonize so much over proper and inoffensive speech could only hear how the circle of dykes, trannys, fags, drag queens, genderqueer, bisexuals, bears, and what have you casually spoke of ourselves in the early 1990s (we only had about eight shoeboxes back then) s, well, they would blanch. Oh, and I know we're not supposed to say "trannys" (or "trannies") anymore, that Ru Paul got in trouble for that, but I used it to refer to myself beginning in 1989, and...it still works for me. We all considered ourselves "queer," by the way. Few things are more fascist that dictating how people should refer to themselves. I mean...you do know that a great many of those terms have been invented, and to varying degrees the concept accompanying them, during the last twenty years, right? It's not a secret.
Last night, another good film, Ethan Coen's Drive-Away Dolls (speaking of dykes). Loved it. It owes much to a marvelous performance by Margaret Qualley (who I also loved in Tarantono's Once Upon a Time Ago...in Hollywood). Funny, irreverent, over-the-top, raunchy, smart, and just the right sort of nostalgia. Plus Matt Damon and an uncredited Miley Cyrus. See it.
Okay, hate to bring this up again, but...the Rent Party Sale is not over. We're close, but no cigar. Not qute yet. I'm gonna draw you attention to a couple of things in the shop. First, an ARC set including both Bradbury Weather and Living a Boy's Sdventure Tale. And the other thing, and the other thing, the trade hardabck of the very long out-of-print Tales from the Woeful Platypus (2006). You can't go wrong with either of these. And you'll be helping us get over this line. Thank you.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
12:24 p.m.