The sun is out today, as it was yesterday. But today there's not so much of the gnawing breeze. Yesterday was cold, despite the sun. Today is almost warm. Okay, let's not get carried away. It's only 59˚F. On April 12th. Spring is hardly even a rumor. Where do the kids up here hide Easter eggs, when there's no grass or weeds or green bushes? Under ( Read more... )

There are few things I find more irritating and presumptuous than being told what I should do about my insomnia. When one has had insomnia all her life, and she's nearing fifty, it should be assumed that pretty much everything has been tried. And tried again. That said ( Read more... )

Well, there's no snow this morning. It's currently 55˚F in Providence. We slept too late, because we were up later than usual - but it was for a good cause. I think I got the sleep about 5 a.m. (CaST). But...I slept without Seroquel. As it stands, I may have only one dose of Lamictal - ever - to go. Tomorrow morning's. I intend to stop the Seroquel ( Read more... )

I awoke to another inch or two of wet, sticky snow. Currently it's 28˚F, but, supposedly, it feels like 35˚F. We have rain coming, and the high tomorrow is supposed to be 55˚F. Recording-breaking highs are expected from Philadelphia to Boston, on the heels of the record-break lows brought on by the polar vortex ( Read more... )

Ah, Saturday. The very day there is no point whatsoever in writing a long blog entry, and, so, in keeping with the recurring theme of my life, I shall today write a long blog entry. Actually, this is what happens when I skip a day or two during which I'm actually having a life (as opposed to sitting in this chair, writing ( Read more... )

Just read this on Twitter. William Gibson "retweeted" it, but I have no idea who the original author might be, which is a shame. It's brilliant:

The things people search for when no one is looking are the things great literature is about.When I was a child, most poor people lived in the country, while the more well to do lived in town. This is, of ( Read more... )

Yesterday, I wrote 1,037 words on Chapter Three of Fay Grimmer. I hope to finish the chapter today.

A bogle was involved.

I had a short nap, and a long hot bath.

About 8:30 p.m., readingthedark arrived, and he stayed until almost four ayem. We talked and talked and talked.

Dreaming of Mercy Street,
Aunt Beast

All I have to offer the world is inside those books. That's it, the absolute and dubious sum total of my ability to offer aid to anyone. If what you're looking for isn't in there, you need to look elsewhere. I can't save you. I can't even help you. All I can offer is my stories. And anyone who asks more of me is overstepping boundaries they have no ( Read more... )

Geoffrey just left for Framingham about ten minutes ago. Now, I'm trying to get focused and accept that I have to spend the rest of the day on interviews. As the years go by, it is something I find less and less palatable, answering questions about myself ( Read more... )

So, Sirenia Digest #74 will be going out to subscribers even as I type this. Through the wonders of the innerwebs, you'll have it before I finish this journal entry.

In about an hour and fifteen minutes, readingthedark will arrive. I'm taking the day off to talk to an actual person. You know, like face-to-face talk. People used to do that shit all the time, in ( Read more... )