every sound just echoes
A so-so writing day yesterday. I did 1,042 words and finished Section VII of "Bainbridge." But I'm entirely uncertain whether those 1,042 words are very good, so I will likely spend a significant portion of today reworking Section VII. Part of me loves this story, this story I've been waiting so many years to be able to sit down and write, and part of me knows I need a break. Fortunately, the part of me that loves the story isn't above constantly reminding the part of me that knows how badly I need a break that working non-stop is all that stands between me and that cardboard condo out on Ponce.
Oh, and give the meteorologists a cookie. It did indeed get quite pleasantly warm yesterday afternoon. And I got a walk, all the way to the park and then some. I wanted it to go on and on, out in the sun and the air that wasn't freezing, but I only got about half an hour. Today, there's rain and thunder, but it's still warm compared to what we were getting for a while there.
I feel like glass. I feel like someone could look at me too hard and I'd shatter.
Sophie's visit to the vet went well, her unsightly discomfort was addressed, and she's feeling much better this morning. Of course, she insists that they're performing inhuman experiments upon her person "in that slaughterhouse of the damned" and that she isn't long for the world. But she's a liar.
Anita called from Madrid last night. My late is her early. Something like that. She loves the railway stations, especially Estacióon de Atocha. She'd been to the Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales and wanted to tell me about the dinosaurs. She says there's a cast of Diplodocus carnegiei, as well as a cast of the skull of Carnotaurus. Also, there was a giant ground sloth. There was a lot more, but that's all she remembered. All this reminded me that I'm late paying my Society of Vertebrate Paleontology membership dues and will, therefore, be charged the $15 late fee. Anyway, Anita wants to write an afterword for Alabaster. I told her I'll think about it, which I will.
I heard this morning that Michael Vale has died at 83 years of age. He played Fred the Baker in all those Dunkin' Doughnuts commercials from which I have frequently borrowed the phrase, "Time to make the doughnuts." I don't seem to be able to find an entry for him at imbd, which is sort of pissing me off.
As I said yesterday, I'm going to be pushing Sirenia Digest rather hard for a bit. Wednesday the 28th of December is an extraordinarily good day to subscribe. Just click here. A mere $10/month gets you two new vignettes each month, along with whatever extras might come along. Each month, one vignette will be illustrated by a professional artist (currently, our guest artist is Vince Locke). You'll also be eligible for the monthly Monster Doodle Sculpture drawings. Also, if you join between now and midnight, you'll receive a FREE copy of Silk (trade paperback edition). So, what the frell are you waiting for? We also have a new round of eBay auctions just starting up. Please have a look. You might see something you want.
Now, as Fred the Baker reminded me so many times between 1982 and 1997, it's time to make the doughnuts.
Postscript: The copy of In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers that's up on eBay is one of my last six copies. And it's out of print at Subterranean Press. If you want a copy from me, there won't be many more opportunities.
Oh, and give the meteorologists a cookie. It did indeed get quite pleasantly warm yesterday afternoon. And I got a walk, all the way to the park and then some. I wanted it to go on and on, out in the sun and the air that wasn't freezing, but I only got about half an hour. Today, there's rain and thunder, but it's still warm compared to what we were getting for a while there.
I feel like glass. I feel like someone could look at me too hard and I'd shatter.
Sophie's visit to the vet went well, her unsightly discomfort was addressed, and she's feeling much better this morning. Of course, she insists that they're performing inhuman experiments upon her person "in that slaughterhouse of the damned" and that she isn't long for the world. But she's a liar.
Anita called from Madrid last night. My late is her early. Something like that. She loves the railway stations, especially Estacióon de Atocha. She'd been to the Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales and wanted to tell me about the dinosaurs. She says there's a cast of Diplodocus carnegiei, as well as a cast of the skull of Carnotaurus. Also, there was a giant ground sloth. There was a lot more, but that's all she remembered. All this reminded me that I'm late paying my Society of Vertebrate Paleontology membership dues and will, therefore, be charged the $15 late fee. Anyway, Anita wants to write an afterword for Alabaster. I told her I'll think about it, which I will.
I heard this morning that Michael Vale has died at 83 years of age. He played Fred the Baker in all those Dunkin' Doughnuts commercials from which I have frequently borrowed the phrase, "Time to make the doughnuts." I don't seem to be able to find an entry for him at imbd, which is sort of pissing me off.
As I said yesterday, I'm going to be pushing Sirenia Digest rather hard for a bit. Wednesday the 28th of December is an extraordinarily good day to subscribe. Just click here. A mere $10/month gets you two new vignettes each month, along with whatever extras might come along. Each month, one vignette will be illustrated by a professional artist (currently, our guest artist is Vince Locke). You'll also be eligible for the monthly Monster Doodle Sculpture drawings. Also, if you join between now and midnight, you'll receive a FREE copy of Silk (trade paperback edition). So, what the frell are you waiting for? We also have a new round of eBay auctions just starting up. Please have a look. You might see something you want.
Now, as Fred the Baker reminded me so many times between 1982 and 1997, it's time to make the doughnuts.
Postscript: The copy of In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers that's up on eBay is one of my last six copies. And it's out of print at Subterranean Press. If you want a copy from me, there won't be many more opportunities.