A March of Little People
Comet Pojmanski (C/2006 A1) , discovered on January 2nd, had its closest approach (115.4 million kilometers) to earth in the pre-dawn hours yesterday. I may stay up tonight and try to catch a glimpse of it. I've never seen a comet with a turquoise tail.
I've set aside the Mina story. Someday, eventually, it'll be the novella or long short story it wants to be. Fortunately, a more manageable subject has occurred to me that should work for Sirenia Digest #4. With a great deal of luck and some considerable determination, I hope to begin and finish it today. I thought I'd begun it yesterday, but looking back over the pages, I think it was heading off in the wrong direction. Today I shall steer it as best I can.
Saturday was a good day. The labret's healing better than I can ever recall one of my piercings having healed. Early in the day, Spooky and I did a read through on "La Peau Verte," she on my iBook and me from the actual book, and I discovered that a number of annoying typos had made it into print in To Charles Fort, With Love. These things seem inevitable at this point. I've become so obsessive about copyediting and proofreading, but still the typos find their way past me. Anyway, I still love this story the best of everything I've done, better even than any of the novels. What I'm trying to do in dark fantasy, this story does almost exactly right. If only I knew how to do it that well every single time. Anyway, afterwards, we went for a long walk. There are at least two species of woodpecker now living in the park, hairy woodpeckers (Picoides villosus) and red-headed woodpeckers (Melanerpes erythrocephalus), and the past couple of days, we've been besieged by crows. I spent the remainder of the day on the new vignette, which may be called "Untitled 19." Or it may not. Spooky made chili for dinner.
We watched the Oscars, and I was mostly pleased with the outcome. It was good to see Best Actor go to Philip Seymour Hoffman, whom I've admired since The Big Lebowski (1998), and I was cool with Reese Witherspoon getting Best Actress. It was an interesting year. Nothing swept, which actually felt kind of nice. I was especially pleased that Best Visual Effects went to King Kong, that Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit got Best Animated Feature, and that Best Make-Up went to The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. But my favourite moment was during the presentation of Best Adapted Screenplay, when Vince got a mention for A History of Violence. And I'd somehow missed that Ismail Merchant had died this year. Afterwards, Spooky read Dracula to me until I was too sleepy to listen and she too sleepy to read farther, so we stopped just after the Demeter ran aground at Whitby.
And now I must go forth with my vorpal blade and slay the frumious doughnuts...so to speak.
I've set aside the Mina story. Someday, eventually, it'll be the novella or long short story it wants to be. Fortunately, a more manageable subject has occurred to me that should work for Sirenia Digest #4. With a great deal of luck and some considerable determination, I hope to begin and finish it today. I thought I'd begun it yesterday, but looking back over the pages, I think it was heading off in the wrong direction. Today I shall steer it as best I can.
Saturday was a good day. The labret's healing better than I can ever recall one of my piercings having healed. Early in the day, Spooky and I did a read through on "La Peau Verte," she on my iBook and me from the actual book, and I discovered that a number of annoying typos had made it into print in To Charles Fort, With Love. These things seem inevitable at this point. I've become so obsessive about copyediting and proofreading, but still the typos find their way past me. Anyway, I still love this story the best of everything I've done, better even than any of the novels. What I'm trying to do in dark fantasy, this story does almost exactly right. If only I knew how to do it that well every single time. Anyway, afterwards, we went for a long walk. There are at least two species of woodpecker now living in the park, hairy woodpeckers (Picoides villosus) and red-headed woodpeckers (Melanerpes erythrocephalus), and the past couple of days, we've been besieged by crows. I spent the remainder of the day on the new vignette, which may be called "Untitled 19." Or it may not. Spooky made chili for dinner.
We watched the Oscars, and I was mostly pleased with the outcome. It was good to see Best Actor go to Philip Seymour Hoffman, whom I've admired since The Big Lebowski (1998), and I was cool with Reese Witherspoon getting Best Actress. It was an interesting year. Nothing swept, which actually felt kind of nice. I was especially pleased that Best Visual Effects went to King Kong, that Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit got Best Animated Feature, and that Best Make-Up went to The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. But my favourite moment was during the presentation of Best Adapted Screenplay, when Vince got a mention for A History of Violence. And I'd somehow missed that Ismail Merchant had died this year. Afterwards, Spooky read Dracula to me until I was too sleepy to listen and she too sleepy to read farther, so we stopped just after the Demeter ran aground at Whitby.
And now I must go forth with my vorpal blade and slay the frumious doughnuts...so to speak.