"Wouldn't it be good to be in your shoes..."
So, at least I managed a little sleep last night, all of it about about 1:30 a.m. (when I woke the night before). I was awake at 5, though, and I was writing by 6 a.m. Oh, wait, the damn weather. Cooler still today. It would have been great chalk gully weather. We made 89F, but it was overcast and there was a cool breeze. Autumn is coming fast, and I have mixed feelings.
Anyway, today was the opposite of yetserday, Today I worked. I was writing by 6 a.m. (I said that), and I did another 1,355 words on the novella/chapbook. It's taking shape fast, it's odd, nonlinear shape. And then I was at McWane by 10 a.m., and that went it well. It wasn't a long spell in the lab, but I got a lot done. Of, and the mail brought me a new protractor! Yes, I know. Nerd excitment. So, anyway, I spent some quality time today with one of the several mosasaurs that make up the subject of MP2.
So, fuck you yesterday.
As part of my recovery from this monstrous bout of agoraphobia, I'm going to stop spent at least two mornings (or afternoons, or mix it up) at McWane every week. I have to anyway if I'm going to get my chunk of MP2 written, as all the critters are there. There are more, from deposits in Mississippi and Arkansas and, I think, Texas, but Mike has those and he's working them into the final text. The bulk of the description will be based on Alabama material.
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Here we are at the first anniversary of the death of Peter Straub, a brilliant, kind man who did more than almost anyone else for my own career. Ghost Story (1979, hich inspired The Drowning Girl) is one of the finest weird novels of the 20th century. He is missed more than I can say.
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I finished, yesterday morning, reading Nevil Shute's superb On the Beach and today I began Charles Bukowsi's Tales of Ordinary Madness. And talk about a whiplash, but my seeithing, sadomasochistic little brain wants what it wants. Who am I to argue?
"Would you suggest writing as a career?" and Bukowski said, "Are you trying to be funny?" Pearls.
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A couple of things from Facebook:
I am saddened that we need the phrase "free range kids," that we need a movement to allow kids to *be* kids again, free of smothering overparentings. But we do need it. And we need kids unplugged, freed of phones and social media. The data backs it up. Read: The Anxious Generation How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness by Jonathan Haidt. Look at the Free-Range Kids movement. People are finally doing something, but it's still sad, and largely the result of delusion, misinformation, and mass hysteria. I am glad to have grown up in the '60s and '70s.
~ and ~
Oh, here's a good one: "Caitlin R. Kiernan is going to have to do a lot more than oppose Donald Trump to prove she's not an enemy of the people." [bolding mine]
Note that I never claimed I wasn't an "enemy of the people." But, that aside, wow. Is there a list somewhere online so I can see all the things I am supposed to do?
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
10:33 a.m.
Anyway, today was the opposite of yetserday, Today I worked. I was writing by 6 a.m. (I said that), and I did another 1,355 words on the novella/chapbook. It's taking shape fast, it's odd, nonlinear shape. And then I was at McWane by 10 a.m., and that went it well. It wasn't a long spell in the lab, but I got a lot done. Of, and the mail brought me a new protractor! Yes, I know. Nerd excitment. So, anyway, I spent some quality time today with one of the several mosasaurs that make up the subject of MP2.
So, fuck you yesterday.
As part of my recovery from this monstrous bout of agoraphobia, I'm going to stop spent at least two mornings (or afternoons, or mix it up) at McWane every week. I have to anyway if I'm going to get my chunk of MP2 written, as all the critters are there. There are more, from deposits in Mississippi and Arkansas and, I think, Texas, but Mike has those and he's working them into the final text. The bulk of the description will be based on Alabama material.
-----------
Here we are at the first anniversary of the death of Peter Straub, a brilliant, kind man who did more than almost anyone else for my own career. Ghost Story (1979, hich inspired The Drowning Girl) is one of the finest weird novels of the 20th century. He is missed more than I can say.
-----------
I finished, yesterday morning, reading Nevil Shute's superb On the Beach and today I began Charles Bukowsi's Tales of Ordinary Madness. And talk about a whiplash, but my seeithing, sadomasochistic little brain wants what it wants. Who am I to argue?
"Would you suggest writing as a career?" and Bukowski said, "Are you trying to be funny?" Pearls.
-----------
A couple of things from Facebook:
I am saddened that we need the phrase "free range kids," that we need a movement to allow kids to *be* kids again, free of smothering overparentings. But we do need it. And we need kids unplugged, freed of phones and social media. The data backs it up. Read: The Anxious Generation How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness by Jonathan Haidt. Look at the Free-Range Kids movement. People are finally doing something, but it's still sad, and largely the result of delusion, misinformation, and mass hysteria. I am glad to have grown up in the '60s and '70s.
~ and ~
Oh, here's a good one: "Caitlin R. Kiernan is going to have to do a lot more than oppose Donald Trump to prove she's not an enemy of the people." [bolding mine]
Note that I never claimed I wasn't an "enemy of the people." But, that aside, wow. Is there a list somewhere online so I can see all the things I am supposed to do?
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
10:33 a.m.