"Between the click of the light and the start of the dream."
Thanks for all the comments of late. Warms my cockles (so to speak), so please keep 'em coming.
I think summer ended yesterday. It lasted about one week. Not quite as bad as Bradbury's "All Summer in a Day," but close. Here in Providence, the temperature dropped 20˚F in less than an hour. The sky opened up, and we were visited by a veritable Noachian Deluge. Lightning carved the sky. There was a warning to unplug everything and go to the center room in your house, which we did. It was all very much like being in Alabama or Georgia again. Now, it's overcast and 81˚F, and in the high 70sF in my office. And moist. Don't forget the moist.
And I need to SWIM, bitches! In the sea!
Me, I also need to be writing my ass off. Because I've not written my ass off in at least a week and a half. Which is not even remotely fucking acceptable. That way lies the corner of Ho and Bo, where Spooky and I do not presently wish to reside. I need to do a piece for Sirenia Digest 80 (!), then get back to Fay Grimmer (which needs to be finished by the first week of September). Or doom. Yes, kittens, doom. I wouldn't feel badly about not having written much lately, only I fear a sort of procrastination has set in. Used to, I spoke of all Nine of the Seven Deadly Sins of Writing. Procrastination numbers amongst them.
Here's the most recent interview I've given regarding Alabaster: Wolves, over at Comics Bulletin. Very pleased with it.
If you've not yet ordered Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart, well...you know the drill. There is a very nice new review, though. Even if it is dead fucking wrong about Lee's cover art.
Okay, more Readercon 23 photos (and a surprise), and then I must be the platypus' bitch:
Thursday night, Peter and I as I'm presented with the framed print of Contessa with Squid (actually a cuttlefish, by the way; yeah, pedantic). It now hangs in our middle parlour. I do not hold Readercon responsible for the cheesy, mass-produced "n'art" on the wall behind us. That's Marriot's fault.
Another photo from my reading on Friday afternoon.
Liz Hand and I, as I am interviewed. I am told I came across as "...riveting, fascinating, [and] vulnerable." Did I? Really? Weird. I especially don't think of myself as vulnerable. Am I a vulnerable beast? Maybe so.
During the "Multimedia of The Drowning Girl" presentation on Friday night, kylecassidy endeavors to make sense of alien technology.
Okay, you damned Daleks! Kyle's armed with a telephoto lens, and me with my sonic screwdriver. Prepare to meet your maker!
As elusive as the Sasquatch and Nessie, here we have the only photographic evidence that Spooky actually attended the con. If that's really her!
Sadly, this was not taken at Readercon 23. More's the pity. Charlize Theron and Michael Fassbender doing...something unspeakably sexy. I'm just going to consider it Prometheus porn and be happy. Originally, this appeared W Magazine.
All photographs (except that sexy-as-fuck last one) Copyright © 2012 by Jada Walker.
Still Here,
Aunt Beast
I think summer ended yesterday. It lasted about one week. Not quite as bad as Bradbury's "All Summer in a Day," but close. Here in Providence, the temperature dropped 20˚F in less than an hour. The sky opened up, and we were visited by a veritable Noachian Deluge. Lightning carved the sky. There was a warning to unplug everything and go to the center room in your house, which we did. It was all very much like being in Alabama or Georgia again. Now, it's overcast and 81˚F, and in the high 70sF in my office. And moist. Don't forget the moist.
And I need to SWIM, bitches! In the sea!
Me, I also need to be writing my ass off. Because I've not written my ass off in at least a week and a half. Which is not even remotely fucking acceptable. That way lies the corner of Ho and Bo, where Spooky and I do not presently wish to reside. I need to do a piece for Sirenia Digest 80 (!), then get back to Fay Grimmer (which needs to be finished by the first week of September). Or doom. Yes, kittens, doom. I wouldn't feel badly about not having written much lately, only I fear a sort of procrastination has set in. Used to, I spoke of all Nine of the Seven Deadly Sins of Writing. Procrastination numbers amongst them.
Here's the most recent interview I've given regarding Alabaster: Wolves, over at Comics Bulletin. Very pleased with it.
If you've not yet ordered Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart, well...you know the drill. There is a very nice new review, though. Even if it is dead fucking wrong about Lee's cover art.
Okay, more Readercon 23 photos (and a surprise), and then I must be the platypus' bitch:
Thursday night, Peter and I as I'm presented with the framed print of Contessa with Squid (actually a cuttlefish, by the way; yeah, pedantic). It now hangs in our middle parlour. I do not hold Readercon responsible for the cheesy, mass-produced "n'art" on the wall behind us. That's Marriot's fault.
Another photo from my reading on Friday afternoon.
Liz Hand and I, as I am interviewed. I am told I came across as "...riveting, fascinating, [and] vulnerable." Did I? Really? Weird. I especially don't think of myself as vulnerable. Am I a vulnerable beast? Maybe so.
During the "Multimedia of The Drowning Girl" presentation on Friday night, kylecassidy endeavors to make sense of alien technology.
Okay, you damned Daleks! Kyle's armed with a telephoto lens, and me with my sonic screwdriver. Prepare to meet your maker!
As elusive as the Sasquatch and Nessie, here we have the only photographic evidence that Spooky actually attended the con. If that's really her!
Sadly, this was not taken at Readercon 23. More's the pity. Charlize Theron and Michael Fassbender doing...something unspeakably sexy. I'm just going to consider it Prometheus porn and be happy. Originally, this appeared W Magazine.
All photographs (except that sexy-as-fuck last one) Copyright © 2012 by Jada Walker.
Still Here,
Aunt Beast