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February 9th, 2009

A black day yesterday. A day of anger and disconsolate bitterness, that was really only the climax to a wave that I think began building on Tuesday. There was a fairly bad seizure on Tuesday, and, oftentimes, they are followed by these intense black moods. All week, this one built up like thunderheads, exacerbated by everything from this horrid winter to insomnia to the tedious line editing on The Red Tree to the idiocy of people who cannot be expected to know better. Then yesterday afternoon, the mood lifted rather suddenly, as often happens. Mostly, the lifting of these post-seizure funks seems to be a completely irrational matter. They come. Then they go. But yesterday, at least in part, this funk was driven back by a sudden dose of perspective. Seeing my place, as clearly as I ever can. And I hope you don't mind me babbling on like this. Point is, I got nothing done yesterday. It gets an L in the day planner ("Lost Day"), and today I have to try and make up for it. And keep myself, who and what I am, in perspective.

Set me aflame, and cast me free.
Away, you wretched world of shadows...


I wish I had nothing to nothing to do today, and Spooky and I could brave the cold and drive to Beavertail and celebrate the esbat. There are few better places hereabouts to watch moonrise than Conanicut Island. But, no, I have to make up for the work I haven't gotten done.

At least I slept more than seven hours last night, more sleep than I've gotten at a single stretch in...a while.

Bill Schafer has asked to reprint "The Belated Burial" in Subterranean Magazine, probably in the October issue. And I've just signed contracts for a forthcoming Lovecraftian anthology edited by S.T. Joshi that will reprint "Pickman's Other Model." I am always very pleased when pieces from Sirenia Digest are reprinted.

As I said yesterday, the limited edition of A is for Alien is now sold out, but you can still get the regular trade edition. And I hope that you will, if you've not already.

Not much else to say about yesterday. It was warmer here in Providence, and snow that has lain on the ground since New Year's Eve finally melted. The rivers must be swollen. But I didn't leave the house. Late, we played a little WoW. Mostly Shaharrazad is trying to gain "exalted" status with Orgrimmar and the Darkspear trolls. So, low-level quests in Durotar.

It seems the windows have been iced over, to one degree or another, for weeks. Behind the cut is a photograph Spooky took back on Thursday. The ice crystals are beautiful, no matter how the winter might have begun to weigh on me:

IceCollapse )