Exhausted. I hardly slept. Hot today, Our high was 96f, with a heat index of 99F; tomorrow is forecast to be worse.

I spent the morning researching the new chapbook, the one based on Dark Adapted Eyes, gets a whole bunch of stuff in my head so I do not constantly have to stop to do this or that bit of reseach. This is one of those things I need to ( Read more... )

Sunny today, after some clouds this morning, and our high was 79˚F. So, it felt a little cooler than yesterday. But only a little. But there's a storm front coming through tomorrow, with possible tornadoes. Then we'll get a cool off, but only down into the 50˚Fs. I can live with that ( Read more... )

I want to write about here the misery and indignities of aging, from my perspective, about the biological cataclysm of aging, but I'm pretty sure it would only get me labeled ageist. I might trigger some poor delicate soul. I'll keep my gerascophobic meanderings to myself ( Read more... )

I had a restless night, too little sleep. I lay in bed listening to a Great horned owl hooting in the near distance. I awake to a world of scabby snow and bare trees. The sky is so, so blue. There will be melt today, despite the cold. There was wind last night, and there's wind today. The cabin creaks when there's a strong gust. My mind is ( Read more... )

This article should be read: "The Peculiar Madness of Trigger Warnings." The author notes that "At UC Santa Barbara, the student government has formally requested that professors provide trigger warnings on their syllabuses." That's how insane this shit has gotten ( Read more... )

A lot of snow came down hard last night, the manic spittle of Freyr, and my office is freezing, and the tiny space heater can't do much about that, and because the clouds went away the light through the windows is so fucking bright I'm about to have to close the curtains. Well, the big piece of black cloth we tacked over the window the week we ( Read more... )

Here's the thing about inquisitions: during an inquisition, no one is safe, including the inquisitors. Who almost always, almost inevitably, believe they're heroes ( Read more... )

I need a beginning, and, so this is it, going back to the "trigger warning" nonsense, a very astute paragraph from a recent post by mevennen:

But what I'm not into is the usual bullshit to which the Left seems so prone: the endless policing of the minutiae of language; the assumption that language, not behaviour, provides the underpinning to societal ( Read more... )

I hate starting entries angry. Okay, that's not true. But it sounds good. That is, saying it makes me look good, presenting, as it does, a more positive image of myself to the reading public. Anyway, I just saw an author who ought to know better reduce Gabriel Garcia Márquez' Memories of My Melancholy Whores (Memoria de mis putts tristes, 2004) to ( Read more... )

Yesterday, I wrote 1,092 words on Chapter Three of Fay Grimmer. I think the most remarkable thing about the Siobhan Quinn books so far is the almost utter absence of sex and/or romance. Of course, when one sets out to lampoon PR, an absence of both is essentially required. I'm pretty sure that Quinn is the female Hank Moody of werepires. Okay. No. ( Read more... )