And yesterday was the sort of "day off" that I dread, the usual sort. Truthfully, I should have had the good sense to leave the house, go to Fernbank or the Zoo in Grant Park or maybe the Botanical Gardens...anywhere. In fact, I didn't step outside the house all damn day. I thought I had a plan, but it spiraled into something else, which, as I have said, is the usual way of things. I could neither rest nor keep my mind occupied, and the frustration mounted, the frustration and the boredom.

High points of yesterday: I read Chapter 9 of Chris Beard's book on anthropoid origins (Chapter 9, "Resurrecting the Ghost"). The chapter was mainly concerned with Beard's fieldwork in the Eocene beds along the banks of China's Yellow River (Huáng Hé), between 1994-1997, before the strata were flooded by construction of one of the nation's many idiotically short-sighted hydroelectric dam projects. I packed only two boxes.

And speaking of the packing of the second box, I shall now offer another unsolicited testimony to the durability of Apple computers. Somehow, I tangled my ankle in the power cord of my seven-year-old iBook last night, pulled it off the desk, and it fell three feet to a hardwood floor. And besides a bent jack on the yo-yo power adapter thingy — which is not truly a part of the actual computer — no apparent damage was done. It's only my secondary computer at this point, as I now work on the iMac, but it was still a moment of sheer fucking horror, watching it crash to the floor. I assumed the worst. I was amazed. Thank you, Apple.

Oh, but that was not a high point. Uhm. There must have been others. We watched two more episodes from Season One of Millennium ("Powers, Principalities, Thrones and Dominions" and "Broken World"). I built a sort of homage to Dr. Suess' McElligot's Pool behind my Abney Park Laboratory (in Second Life). To quote the message I posted to the New Babbage forum (written, of course, as Prof. Nishi):

"The Abney Park Well:

While trying to recalibrate a portion of the lateral array of my temporal-spatial teleportation beam, I confess that I accidentally confused the X and Z axes, and, thereby, vaporized a vertical shaft of masonry and bedrock just behind the laboratory. The width of the vacated area is approximately 4.2 metres in diameter, with a depth of some 100 metres. The accident has unexpectedly tapped into some subterranean extension of the Mare Verne, creating an Artesian well (though the salinity of the water renders it unpotable). However, initial investigations indicate that the pool is inhabited by a number of species of marine life, including fish of various sorts. All those curious are invited to visit the pool (which, for the sake of public safety, I have walled in) and fish there. I have named the pool in honour of that great, lately deceased New Babbage ichthyologist, Dr. Theodor Geisel McElligot. No swimming, please. Study of this new hydrological feature will continue..."

Spooky (Artemisia) did most of the actual work. I did the design. And yes, you can really fish there, and really catch fish. I also made a few new LJ icons, inspired by what I'd written about Panthalassa yesterday. The one that I'm using today is, of course, a view of North America during the Late Creaceous, with the Mississippi Embayment and the Western Interior Seaway very prominent. I also did one of Pangaea, and one of a Tyrannosaurus rex, and a William Stout painting of a trilobite. I did a little work on the Palaeozoic Museum in New Babbage, adding another of Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins paintings and two lithographs of Archaeopteryx. That was the best of yesterday.

Today, we make corrections to the manuscript of A is for Alien, which came back to me from sovay and Massachusetts on Friday.

And here, a mere 21 days remain until Birthday No. -04. Shudder. Belatedly, I'm taking a cue from docbrite and faustfatale, and declaring the whole month of May to be my Royal Birthday Month. So, if you are given to such things, here's my Amazon wish list. Thank you. You wouldn't think a world could get this much more messed up in only -04 years, but you'd be wrong.

I want to write more about Panthalassa — particularly about how one can simultaneously be an atheist and a polytheist, and how one of the things that, increasingly, disturbs me about "orthodox" Wicca ("Gardnerian") is that it is drifting ever nearer a default monotheism, a sort of surrogate Xtianity where the tripartite goddess stands in for Jesus/"God"/the Holy Spirit (maybe chuck the Virgin Mary in there as a "female" mask), and any number of Panthalassa-related issues. But this is getting long. I'll save it for tomorrow, instead.

One of the marvelous things about having two consecutive days off is, on that second day I can blog about anything I want, and it doesn't have to have anything to do with writing, unless I decide that it will. For example, the fact that Spooky made toasted slices of raisin-cinnamon bread with cream cheese for breakfast. It's as relevant in this moment as anything else.

I can, for example, take another moment to mention Panthalassa, which is the name I have chosen to signify the sea "goddess" whom I shall use to encompass all sea goddesses and all non-anthropomorphic features of the sea. In paleogeography, Panthalassa ("all seas") is the name given the world-wide ocean that surrounded the ancient supercontinent of Pangaea. In the NeoWiccan/Neopagan system I'm working on, Panthalassa will function as one of my primary godforms, and will never be given any single physical form. I arbitrarily refer to Panthalassa as "she," and even as "goddess," but, in truth, Panthalassa is by definition without gender (though she contains all genders and all forms of reproduction), as she is without any single form. I would be equally justified in giving her the form of a trilobite, a stone lying on a beach, a water molecule, a kelp forest, a seal, a great white shark, a sailing ship, a hurricane, or a mermaid's purse. She is equally all these things. Within her is contained all true and useful myths of sea deities and beings: the Oceanids, Poseidon, Amphitrite, Oceanus, Tethys, Triton, Proteus, Rán, Ægir, the nine daughters of Ægir, Pontus, Nereus, Doris, the numerous Nereids, Varuna, Manawydan, Manannán mac Lir, Arnapkapfaaluk, Idliragijenget, Nix, Susanoo, Bangpūtys, Tangaroa, Yemaja, Neptune, Phorcys, Ceto, et al. Panthalassa, though not factual, is true, in that she is the avatar for my reverence of the sea, the focal point of my devotion and meditation. From space, the world is blue, and blue is the colour of Panthalassa, but so is black and all shades of brown and grey and green and the white of sea foam and clouds and water spouts. She is as colourless as she is colourful. It's an idea I've been working on for some time, and it seems to satisfy my needs for a central, infinitely faceted godform tied to something which evokes awe in me (magick being the willful evocation of awe). All life on Earth comes from Panthalassa, and all rain, snow, all rivers and swamps and marshes and deltas, the act of sedimentation, salt, plate tectonics, and so on, all these things are merely expressions of Panthalassa. Panthalassa is indifferent, non-conscious, unfathomable, and endlessly seductive. The choice of name was made largely for personal aesthetic and symbolic reasons; Mother Hydra would work just as well. So far, it's only an idea, an appealing, functional idea filled with contradiction, but it's a start.

As for yesterday, a good day off. Spooky and I drove up to Roswell, to the Phoenix and the Dragon, the witchcraft shop we've used for years now, because we knew we'd likely not have another chance before the move to Providence (not counting today, we have about 26 days until the move). Spooky got me a new hematite ring to replace the last one I broke, and a pretty little Pierre Shale ammonite, Jeltzkytes nodosus I think. Oh, and a night light for the bathroom in the new apartment, translucent porcelain with the moon and a mermaid. The traffic up Peachtree and back down Piedmont was awful, but the day was cloudy and not too warm. I packed four boxes. My tooth hurt less than the day before. I read Chapter 8 of The Hunt for the Dawn Monkey ("Ghost Busters," mostly about the Duke University primate origins conference in the early '90s). After dinner, we watched two more episodes from Season One of Millennium (1-17 and 1-18, "Walkabout" and "Lamentation"). Later, there was a bit of Second Life, and when we went to bed about 1:30 ayem, I read McElligot's Pool to Spooky, which is unusual, because she usually reads it to me. I got a remarkable 8 hrs. sleep. That was yesterday, pretty much.

Oh, two screencaps from SL last night, courtesy omegamorningsta. The first one should put Sirenia Digest subscribers in mind of "Flotsam." Behind the cut:

( Omega and Nareth )

And speaking of Sirenia Digest #29, my thanks to scarletboi for the exchange yesterday on "Regarding Attrition and Severance." One of my greatest fears about letting people read the piece was that it would be misinterpreted as mere "torture porn," that they would miss the Cosmicism that is critical to understanding the story's intent. He wrote, "I'm glad you chose to share it. It was graphic and horrific (in the original meaning) and brutal. But it was also beautifully written and deeply involving. To be honest, I probably shouldn't have read it until my current work is finished, because I have a feeling it's going to affect the mood of it...I understand the worry. The narration is indifferent enough to be almost clinical, academic. If it took more glee in the proceedings it might edge toward the torture-porn of Saw or Hostel. But I think it came across more elegantly than that, and I hope other readers pick up on the cues as well." Too which I can only add — me, too.

Whoops. I went and fucking wrote about writing. Ah, well. Blame the neglectful platypus for not yet having brought me coffee.

Yesterday, I did a very respectable 1,277 words and finished "Rappaccini's Dragon," which you may read in Sirenia Digest #30 (May 2008). I do like this story, though its voice and directness, the very matter-of-fact way it approaches plot, surprised me. It's a sort of revenge tale, and I have subtitled it "Murder Ballad No. 5."

There's a wonderful line of storms bearing down on Atlanta. I am tempted to get my willow wand, go to Freedom Park and stand beneath the oaks. I would scream my frustration to the roiling sky and dare the lightning to touch me. Of course, I will sit here, instead, and finish this entry.

I just counted. I've done 43 stories specifically for Sirenia Digest (not counting "Rappaccini's Dragon"). This means I've published, since 1995, about 130 short stories and vignettes (short hardbacks, such as The Dry Salvages, were not included in the count). And fully 33%, almost a third, have been done for the digest. 130 stories in 13 years. That's insane.

What else to yesterday? Well, after the writing, I packed about 4 boxes, mostly paperbacks, in my office. Spooky made her yummy Spanish rice dish for dinner, and pintos. I got a check for $330.17 from Candlewick Press, royalties on "The Dead and the Moonstruck" from Gothic! Ten Original Dark Tales (it's a very rare short-story sale that actually earns me royalties). I read Chapter 7 of Chris Beard's book on the search for the origin of anthropoids. I had a long phone conversation with my mother, mostly about moving. Byron had to be at a party in Athens, so we watched the new episodes of Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica alone. My tooth hurt, but not as bad as the day before. Then I did just a dab of Second Life. We drove over to Videodrome around midnight, but couldn't find anything we actually wanted to rent. Instead, we read more of House of Leaves, and I got to sleep about 3 ayem. That was yesterday.

Today will be a day off, as will tomorrow. My first days off in nineteen days, and likely my last until after the move. I still have to pack books, but no writing.

Had a short, but interesting, conversation with a fellow New Babbagite last night, who has also, independently, come to the conclusion that Second Life simply is not ready, yet, for "full immersion" roleplay. I would say it's only ready for rp on this level of intensity in very small groups. Three or four, and things seem to go just fine. But large-scale rps inevitably get idiotic. For rp to work, there must be complete suspension of disbelief (as with literature and movies), which means I do not rp with people who constantly slip out of character, or who use 133t, or who stop everything to IM with friends, or to chat ooc with friends who wander by, or who are illiterate, or who are not capable of keeping up, or who think "we're getting too serious," or what the hell ever happens to get in the way of good rp. It's a shame, because I'd love to see epic rp in SL. But there are just too many factors holding it back, the most serious of which may be the average age of SL users, and the tendency towards exceedingly short attention spans. Good rp sessions, I have found, require anywhere from 2-6 consecutive hours, and few I've met on SL (and I have met many) are up to that. Right now, I have a small number of people I can do exquisite rp with, and, as soon as I can get to it, we'll have the "Sirenia Players" up and running, but I am done with sim-level rp for the time being, until SL grows the hell up (which seems an unlikely proposition, at the moment).

I'd still love to hear some thoughts on Sirenia Digest #29.

Okay. Coffee. I've only just discovered that the damned platypus grinds the beans in hisherits bill...

By now, everyone who is a subscriber should have Sirenai Digest #28, as it went out about 6 pm on Monday. The first part of yesterday was spent hammering down the last few nails, and then it went away to Gordon (thingunderthest) for vinyl siding (er...PDFing). Hope you like it. Comments would make me happy. And if you are not a subscriber, the part where it's too late to become one hasn't happened yet. Oh, and I cannot believe no one pointed out to me, after Saturday's entry, that "The Sphinx's Kiss" appeared in #27, and so obviously wouldn't be part of #28.

Yesterday, once the digest was out of my hands, became a much needed day off. A day off and out (even though it was cloudy and a bit chilly). Too much time spent sitting in the house lately. Too much time staring at the monitor. First, Spooky and I caught the 2 pm matinée of Jimmy Hayward and Steve Martino's adaptation of Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who, which we enjoyed a great deal. Jim Carrey may now stop apologizing for his part in the abominable 2000 adaptation of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. After the movie, we swung by The Fernbank Museum of Natural History, because we'd not yet seen the "In the Dark" exhibit. Nocturnal animals, subterranean animals, deep-sea animals, blindness, etc. Right up my alley. Sadly, the exhibit is very kiddy oriented, but there were still a few cool things for us ancient types. Two photos (behind the cut) from the Museum:

( tube worms and sponges )

After the Museum, back home, I finished reading the article on Ennatosaurus tecton, and even made it through the rather frustrating phylogenetic analysis of the taxon. Then I read George R. Guffey's essay, "Aliens in the Supermarket: Science Fiction and Fantasy for 'Inquiring Minds'" (1987). And after dinner, well, I gorged Second Life rp in Toxia, during which time, among another things, I cleaned a tombstone with a scrub brush and finally met scarletboi's SL alter-ego (insert lesbian wolf-whistle here), who brought me the gift of lower-abdominal tentacles. I don't think I made it to bed until almost 5 ayem, which was stupid, yeah, and I'm paying for it today, but it was fun while it lasted. Somehow, I survived most of yesterday on nothing more than a cup of coffee and a handful of candied walnuts. Will wonders never cease?

Also, cdennismoore asks that eternal question, "Have you TRULY not been to Oxford Town?" No, I have not. Neither in England nor in New Jersey.

We may have found a house in Providence. Spooky and her mother are working on it, and I'm thinking what a huge relief it will be, to know where I'll be living come June.

And now, it's time to make the doughnuts...

Another very excellent day off yesterday, and I hardly ever get two very excellent days off in a row. Today it is back to the word mines, but at least I am rested. More than eight hours sleep again last night, so I'm feeling considerably less zombiefied. The warm weather helped (60sF), though it turned rather blustery yesterday, and then we had rain last night.

As for yesterday, first I spent three and a half hours editing a Dune: Apocalypse roleplay transcript from Monday night. I know that doesn't sound like the sort of thing that a writer would do on her day off, but I find editing rp transcripts oddly relaxing in their need for precision and patience. And this was just such a great scene. You can read the transcript here. Anyway, when that was done, I got dressed and we finally made it over to the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. I think we got there about 4 p.m. (CaST). I've been reading the description of a new species of Carcharodontosaurus (C. iguidensis) in the new Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, and there were some features on the Gigonotosaurus mount I wanted to see again up close (Gigonotosaurus is a close relative of Carcharodontosaurus, both part of a radiation of giant allosauroids during the Cretaceous Period). The staff was setting up for a banquet or some such, which always seems to be the case when I visit, and it hampered my access to the skeletons just a little, but not so much to have made the trip a waste. Afterwards, we just sort of wandered about the museum, visiting "old friends." There are photos behind the cut:

( Fernbank stuff )

After the museum, we got noodle bowls at our favourite Thai restaurant. Later still, we watched two more episodes from Season One of Angel ("Under Your Skin" and "Prodigal"), and then I did a little light rp on Arrakis, but nothing to match Monday night. I was actually off SL before one a.m., and in bed before two a.m. Small miracles.

Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. I really do have to find some alternative to eBay for selling my comp/PC copies, as they've just announced another hike in the cut they take, and it has become unacceptable. No, etsy won't work, as it does not permit auctions. And now I remember there was actually a little bit of work yesterday, as I had to approve the final cover layout for Tales of Pain and Wonder, and send a updated biography for the back cover flap.

Anyway. The platypus says shut up and get to work, so, here we go again...

I decided last night, as I went to bed at the remarkably early hour of 2 a.m., that one of the universe's greatest horrors is being awake and watching the antics of Smeagol at dawn. Which is what happened yesterday. Last night, though, I was asleep by three and slept until 11 a.m., eight hours, so I am considerably recovered, thank you very much.

By now, you should have Sirenia Digest #26. I very much hope that you enjoy it. Comments encouraged. I would have sent it out late last night, instead of Spooky doing it this morning, but I was insanely sleep-deprived and forgot to check my inbox for the corrected PDF until very late.

Quite a fine day off yesterday, and I am taking another today, having realised that I went 13 days without a day off. No wonder I was feeling frazzled. Today, we might even make it to Fernbank!

Yesterday, after breakfast, I had still another hot bath, then just savored the sunlight and warm air in my office for a bit. We're losing both today, I think, as warm and cold fronts collide and bring rain and, then, tomorrow, chillier weather. Another good reason to have another day off. Cold, dreary weather is good for little but writing. Anyway, yesterday, we made a 3 p.m. (CaST) screening of Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood (based on Upton Sinclair's novel, Oil). It was, quite simply, the best film of 2007 that I have yet seen, and undoubtedly one of the best films of the last ten years. Both Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Dano deliver Oscar-caliber performances. Script, cinematography, score, art direction...all of it impeccable. It's the sort of film that makes me wish I were better at reviewing films. There Will Be Blood is a remarkable achievement, even more amazing than the Coen Bros. adaptation of No Country for Old Men, but I can do little more than stand amazed and heap hyperbole upon it. I strongly, strongly recommend this film, and on a wide, flat theatre screen, if possible.

We had a walk to Freedom Park (part of the snowman still hasn't melted), the first halfway decent excuse for a walk I've taken in weeks. Later, after dinner, we watched more Angel (two episodes from Season One), and then I had some good rp in Second Life. It was a bit like the set up for a nerd joke: what happens when four Fremen, two Harkonnen, and three Bene Gesserit walk into a bar (and never mind the Sardaukar lurking in the alleyway). I was in bed by two, though I talked until three (annoying Spooky, and annoying Hubero to the point that he stalked off in search of a quiter, if colder, place to sleep).

And the nightmares have already faded, so no dreamsickness! Huzzah! So, yes, yesterday was fine, and with luck today will be, as well.

Please have a look at the latest round of eBay. Hope you see something there you cannot live without.

The last two days have been "days off," after eleven days without a day off, and I think I've slept more over those two days than in the two weeks preceding them. Or so it feels. But now it's time to go back to work. Now I go to stand again at the precipice, which is how it so often feels to me, this writing life.

I stand at the edge of a great bluff, and step off.

I'm quite certain I have made this analogy before. It's almost always apt. This morning, the precipice is the knowledge that I now have a month open to do nothing but work on Joey Lafaye, which I've fallen horridly behind on, even when I factor in the deadline extension my publisher gave me in December. I am afraid I am not writing a book that I was "meant" to write. I so despise teleological language. Of course, I have never been "meant" to write any book. So, I shall rephrase that. I am not sure I can write this book. It does not help that I have been sitting on it for more than two years. Way more, actually. And now I have a contract, and now it has to be written. But here I am at the precipice, stepping off. I have a prologue and a chapter, and it's all so very damned odd, this book. Caitlín R. Kiernan writes a novel-length fairy tale. I miss Soldier and Emmie, Deacon and Dancy, Niki and Daria. All those characters I comprehended, because they were only pieces of me. I have to find how it is that these characters, the new ones that must populate Joey Lafaye, can be only pieces of me, for there is nothing else they could be.

The real story here is a girl named Addison Lynch and her missing twin sister, and I have to not lose sight of that, even though half the novel is the carnival and the Barker and Joey and Sweet William and Ignatius and all the rest. I think maybe I know what the book is about. Maybe this time someone has to push me off the precipice. Too rarely do I use this journal to write about how hard writing is for me. Too often, I use it for a hundred other things.

Anyway, Spooky has made another doll, Cecil, who you may see here. I quite love Cecil, in his swimming trunks, and I named him, but if we kept every doll that Spooky made we'd have no room to keep all the blasted books I write.

I'm still relieved at the Publisher's Weekly review of Tales of Pain and Wonder, which you may read in yesterday's entry. Yesterday, I sent all the corrections off to subpress. It is out of my hands, more or less. I think the book is due out in March. There really isn't much to say about yesterday, as it was a day off. There was some decent rp in the Dune sim on Second Life, but the scene was a rather sorrowful affair. And I forgot to take photos. But here's the link to transcripts from the rp (not last night's scene, but the rp in general). I play Shahrazad al-Anwar Godeater, a Fremen Naib. I also post under that name on the forum. Some of it makes for good reading, especially if you are a fan of Herbert's work. Our story assumes that Paul died during his fight with Feyd-Rautha, that an atomic attack on Arrakis followed, and almost a century of civil war. Only now is the Empire beginning to allow various royal houses and factions to return to the planet. I could tell you a lot more, but it would spoil the plot. By the way, if you are on SL and would like to become a part of this Dune story, just IM me (Nareth Nishi), and/or we can talk about it here.

Oh, and "The Ape's Wife" was voted most popular short story of the year at Clarkesworld Magazine. That is, the most popular of those published in 2007 by Clarkesworld Magazine. You may see the poll results here.

Well, here's the coffee, and I should try to at least think about the word mines....

Today, Elizabeth would have been 37.

So, yes, Sirenia Digest #25 will go out to subscribers this evening, and includes "Untitled 31" and "The Crimson Alphabet" (Part One, A-M), as well as a somewhat more revealing than usual prolegomena. I spent all of yesterday editing the stories and getting things in order, writing the prolegomena (740 words), doing the layout, etc. Oh, do note that there's no Vince Locke illustration this month, simply because I was not able to get "Untitled 31" to him in time. I think I finished up about 7 p.m., and Spooky went out and got BBQ from Dusty's on Briarcliff.

Later, we watched Werner Herzog's Rescue Dawn. Excellent, one of the best of the year, and has been added to my short list of truly fine Vietnam films. Christian Bale was superb, as expected, and the film itself harks back to earlier classic Herzog films such as Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972) and Fitzcarraldo (1982), both thematically and visually. Here we have Herzog's driven lunatic, though Bale's Lt. Dengler is a far more compassionate and level-headed sort of lunatic than the old Klaus Kinski breed. Klaus Badelt's score was very effective. Now I need to see Herzog's documentary, Little Dieter Needs to Fly (2007).

Okay. Spooky has ordered me to have a day off, not wanting a repeat of early December, yada, yada, so I'm thinking I'll spend the rest of today reading Bruce Sterling, having a hot bath, washing my hair, and maybe wandering out into the chilly grey world. But watch for Sirenia Digest #25 in your inboxes. Comments always welcome, as are bids in the ongoing eBay auctions. Last night, Spooky relisted copies of Alabaster and To Charles Fort, With Love (both out of print). The copy of Alabaster is signed by both me and Ted Naifeh.

Maybe I'll even take a nap...

Postscript (3:05 p.m.): In response to the reader who inquired at to whether or not I have a MySpace page. Yes. It's here.

When I was finished with the Beowulf novelization, at the tail-end of the ms., after the glossary, I wrote:

Author’s note: If a teacher or professor has assigned you Beowulf, this novelization doesn’t count. Not even close. For readers who would like to learn more about Norse mythology, I strongly recommend John Lindow’s Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs (Oxford University Press, 2001).

It was one of those things I put in the manuscript that I figured had a zero chance of making it into the printed book. So I was surprised when I got the page proofs and discovered it was still there. Even so, I thought someone would surely cut it at the last minute. They didn't, and it appears in the novelization just as I wrote it. So, kudos to HarperCollins on that count. However, a few days back, Spooky brought to my attention the following, from Neil's blog (dated November 6th):

Incidentally, I think the educational pack done for Beowulf is simply wrong. Part of the point of the Beowulf movie that Roger and I wrote is the places it diverges from the story of Beowulf, and the ways it explores the relationship between a person and a story about a person. I don't think they should be putting the stuff we made up on material intended for schools -- it seems like a way of justifiably irritating teachers, who have enough to put up with when they try to teach Beowulf without us making their lives harder. It would have been much more interesting to have put up either the original, or one that talked about the differences -- I'd absolutely encourage high schoolers to see our version and talk about what changed and why.

I think my first reaction was, "Kids still go to school?" But after the initial shock, I was even more amazed that the studio didn't step in and remove my disclaimer from the end of the book. Here's the link to the laughable "educational" pack (a downloadable PDF). Looking at it, I assume the pack was compiled by YMI ("Young Minds Inspired") with the approval and aid of the film studios (Paramount and Shangri-La). So, anyway, yeah, a big thumbs-down to YMI, etc. for attempting to pass this film version of Beowulf off as the real thing to bolster group ticket sales, but kudos to Neil for calling them on it. Sadly, most teachers will use the "educational" packet and never see his blog entry (much less mine). Frankly, if I were an English teacher and I were going to show my class a film version of Beowulf, it would be Sturla Gunnarsson's Beowulf and Grendal (2005), which also diverges significantly from the source material, but not nearly as significantly as the Robert Zemeckis film.

---

Yesterday was not bad, as days off go. We threw away the rotten old jack-o'-lanterns, had lunch at the Corner Tavern in L5P, and wasted much of the afternoon searching for used hardback copies of Dune Messiah and Children of Dune in local used bookshops (then came home and ordered online from Powell's).

Last night, we watched Mikael Håfström's adaptation of Stephen King's 1408. I have not read the short story. In fact, I think the last new work by King I read was The Dark Half in 1989. I didn't see this film in theatres because it just didn't look particularly interesting. But we got it from Netflix, and, well, it wasn't particularly interesting. The first half hour or so is somewhat intriguing, in a sloppy made-for-TV kind of way and might have served as the set up for something effective. Once Cusack enters the "evil" room at the Dolphin Hotel, though, the film quickly disintegrates into a hodge-podge of spook-house clichés, piled nonsensically one atop the other. There are moments where you can see the influence of House of Leaves and The Haunting of Hill House, and even The Shining and The House Next Door, but the film never gets anywhere near those sources of inspiration in terms of its artfulness or effectiveness. There's way too much, and much of it comes off as hoaky, confused comedy. That said, I was shocked to learn that the theatrical release ends very differently (we saw the director's cut), with a more upbeat ending. Test audiences are the death of "horror," and just about anything else worthwhile. Either version of the film would be disappointing, because it just isn't very good, but the practice of going with the opinions of a bunch of Middle-America know-nothings in hopes of scoring a bigger box office continues to baffle me every way I can be baffled.

---

Finally, a couple of comments to the blog I wanted to answer, First, subtlesttrap writes:

Your mention of Winter's intro totally reminded me of a question I have been meaning to ask you about the inclusion of "Mercury" in the 2008 edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder. I know you stated in a previous post that it was going to be included, but I just wanted to double-check. I can't wait to have this edition sit next to my 1st edition signed hardcover. Can you believe the 1st edition hardcover from Gauntlet Press is already fetching $175-$500 on the out-of-print market?

I only believe it because I have seen it happen. But it's one reason I'm glad that Subterranean Press will soon be releasing the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, because it usually galls me to see people selling the book for such outrageous prices (and the mercifully-oop Meisha Merlin tpb galls me on principle). But yes, "Mercury" is included in the subpress edition, as is the new story, "Salammbô Redux," while "Angels You Can See Through" has been excised (but will be included in the accompanying chapbook, Tails of Tales of Pain and Wonder).

Also, corucia asks, Regarding the failed prologue for Joey LaFaye - perhaps you could consider it as potential fodder for a special-edition version of the book. To my knowledge, there will not be a limited-edition of Joey LaFaye, but I am considering including the unfinished prologue in Sirenia Digest. Wow. Over a thousand words, and the day has not even started...

It's Sunday. So the Xtians are wailing. If I were a real American, I'd call the cops.

To have spent pretty much all day and night yesterday drinking Bailey's, I feel surprisingly okay.

Anyway, I am in that place where Joey LaFaye has completely stalled out on me. The prologue was the wrong beginning. It was leading off with the wrong scope. Too epic, when this has always been, in my head, a very personal story, mainly about two characters. All that epic shit can stay in the background, hinted at, but when it starts marching out onto the stage, right there for all to see, I know I'm headed the wrong way. And this means last week was a waste, as far as getting this novel written is concerned. It means I have not yet truly started. I suspect writers who are not afraid of producing a "bad first draft" are far more fond of tedium and paperwork than am I. Anyway, I will begin again tomorrow.

I ended up, last night, wearing a mismatched heap of rags, lying on the sofa, listening to Byron explain how the "new 3-D" is different from the "old 3-D." Oh, and we watched Torchwood and then watched Fight Club again. The thing about Fight Club — I mean besides my lust for Marla Singer — is that it's the first movie that Spooky and I ever saw together (in a theatre). We were in Birmingham, Alabama, and we were the only two people in the theatre laughing, which says a lot more about Birmingham than about the two of us. Regardless, it was four o'clock before I went to bed. I took a piece of an Ambien so I'd forget the dreams.

Today is a Day Off. But despite all the damned work, I don't feel like I've earned it, because there are no good, usable pages to show for the week. I am the pages I write.

I'm gonna go sit in front of a mirror and practice smiling.

I can at least say that yesterday was a less frustrating day than Saturday. Mostly because I didn't try to write, so I suppose it was an unscheduled Day Off. The weather was a little warmer, but not hot, and Spooky insisted that we leave the house (never mind how much I hate that shade of blue, or the unshakable sensation that, if I do not hold onto something, I will fall up into the sky).

We caught the 1:50 matinee of Shekhar Kapur's Elizabeth: The Golden Age at Midtown. A beautiful, poetic film, in all ways sublime, a film that genuinely left me awestruck. I think, these days, that's what I ask from a film, above all else — leave me awestruck. I was a huge admirer of Kapur's Elizabeth: The Virgin Queen (1998), and if anything, Cate Blanchette was even more impressive this time out. As with the character of Elizabeth, Blanchette's acting has matured. And Clive Owen is quickly becoming one of my favourite actors (along with Christian Bale and Adrien Brody). There are scenes in this film that I found, literally, breathtaking. I add it to the shortlist of my favourite films of the year thus far, along with Danny Boyle's Sunshine and Julie Taymor's Across the Universe.

Afterwards, we stopped by Whole Foods, and I climbed bales of hay to find the three best pumpkins. We took a long walk in Freedom Park, where model rockets were being fired at that blue, blue sky, and then had leftover chili for dinner. I spent a lot of time in the Dune sim last night.

So, yes, a far better day than were Friday and Saturday.

Today, it's back to writing. I fell asleep last night with a story in my head, a sort of sf story. I fear it might be too long for Sirenia Digest, and what with Joey Lafaye begging to be started, I really do not have time to get caught up in a longish sf story. But I may give it a shot. I'm tired of setting stories aside. I have become entirely too at ease with the practice of setting artistic concerns aside for those that are merely financial. It has become almost a habit, and an ugly one. One I wish to be free of now.

Coffee?

So, yes, day before yesterday — commonly known as Thursday — after a final fit of editing, I sent the rtf. for the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder away to Subterranean Press. It is out of my hands (again), and (again) that is a huge relief. Otherwise, though, Thursday pretty much sucked. It was one of those sorts of Days Off, the sort you have to have a Day Off to recover from.

Oh, my box of contributor's copies of Beowulf finally arrived on Thursday.

Which brings us to yesterday, also known as Friday. We braved traffic and the horror of Buckhead and Phipps Plaza to see Julie Taymor's Across the Universe with a good sound system. Wow. From my perspective, there was nothing here not to love. Of course, you must keep in mind, I adored both Moulin Rouge! (2001) and The Velvet Goldmine (1998), and while Across the Universe is not as perfect a film as either of those, it's awfully frelling good. And, in my opinion, there's no way Across the Universe ever would have happened without those two films. No, I do not write reviews, and this is not a review. Just me saying this is a very special film, and I loved it. Great cameos by Bono and Eddie Izzard, and the cast was, all in all, superb (though Joe Anderson's unnerving resemblance to Kurt Cobain kept, well, unnerving me). I'm very pleased to hear the film is about to get a much wider release. And I will also say something that should be obvious, because, all around me, people keep missing obvious things. This is as much a film about 2007 as it is about the 1960s, as much a film about Iraq as Vietnam, and etc. If my recommendations mean anything to you (and I will not be offended if they do not), see Across the Universe.

After the movie, we met Byron for dinner at The Vortex, then headed home for the season finale of Doctor Who. And again, I will say "Wow." Martha Jones, walking the world. I'd be very unhappy about the ending, if I didn't know that Freema Agyeman joins the cast of Torchwood next season (as well as making returning appearances on Doctor Who). And I do think that "The Sound of Drums" and "The Last of the Time Lords" are probably best watched together as a single episode.

And then there was Second Life, my alternate existence as a Freman woman named Shahrazad al-Anwar, and then, eventually, there was bed. And that was Friday.

Today, I will be spending the whole day thinking and talking about Joey Lafaye, because the time is here. The time was here a year ago, but a thousand things got in the way. Now the time is here, and there are a few things I need to figure out before the novel begins to happen.

If you are an admirer of Spooky's dolls, have a look at Amelia (though I call her Tilda, for reasons that should be self-evident). Also, there are still three eBay auctions underway. The way people have been snapping up the copies of the new Threshold paperback I've listed recently, I am surprised no one's yet bid on this copy of Low Red Moon, because a) it's a better novel, and b) it's not like I do signings anymore.

I think that's all for now. The platypus and I need to have a loooonnnng talk...

Yeah, well, some mu zein wallah quiz thingy just told me that my ideal presidential candidate is Dennis Kucinich, when I know damn well my ideal presidential candidate is Steve Buscemi.

Five more incredibly tedious hours editing Tales of Pain and Wonder yesterday, going over the manuscript with tweezers and sewing needles. And finally, I reached that point where I know it's time to let the thing go. Send it out into the world. Again. I just got an updated bio from Richard Kirk, so tomorrow — after my day off — I will paste that in and email the whole huge file away to Subterranean Press. The "typescript" (no actual typewriters were harmed, mind you) is 504 pages long, 135,762 words (before Rick's bio). I have done all I can do to make it typo free. Spooky has done even more. Oh, and I think I've decided I will also include "A Study for Estate" in Tales of Tales of Pain and Wonder (which I may rename Tails of Tales of Pain and Wonder, and thank you, Cliff).

Er...anything else about yesterday? David called from Athens while I was doing final edits on "Salammbô Redux," and we talked about politics and New Agers mucking up witchcraft and addiction and Joss Whedon and blogging and whatever the hell else. Conversations with David are problematic, as he has not yet given up all hope for humanity. But he's not as old as me...

I have no idea what I'm going to do with today, once this entry is done. Except Spooky insists I go outside.

Oh, Spooky just came back from the p.o. with a package from Czechoslavakia. And now I see it contains my contributor's copy of Trochu: Divne Kusy 2, the Czech sf anthology which includes a translation of "Riding the White Bull" ("Jízda na Bílém Bykovi"). There was even a $50 dollar bill inside. Cool.

I'm allowing myself to be cautiously optimistic about Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. In some ways, it looks like the movie that should have been made instead of Temple of Doom. We get Marion Ravenwood back, and we even get John Hurt as Abner Ravenwood. We even get Jim Broadbent!

I think 42% of my life has now been consumed by a Second Life Dune freeform rp sim. I'm Freman, of course, and this is an alternate Dune timeline, wherein Paul Atreides died at the end of the first book and the planet was subsequently pulverized by atomics. This is a hundred years later, and Arrakeen is slowly pulling itself back together. Houses Atreides, Harkonnen, and Corrino are strugging for power, and there's the Spacing Guild and CHOAM. It's an incredibly immersive experience. And additional proof that SL has so much more to offer than Blingtardia, if you're just willing to dig into the crevices and crannies. The story surrounds me and I become the story, which is really all I've ever wanted, the ability to truly sink into story.

Bi-la kaifa, indeed.

A very fine day off yesterday. It doesn't usually go that way. But yesterday, Spooky made me get dressed and get out of the house. First we visited the Fernbank Museum of Natural History, mainly because the "Frogs" A Chorus of Color" exhibit is back (by popular demand, one supposes). This exhibit is pretty much what got me through winter before last. Despite the omnipresent reminders of the ongoing Anuran mass extinction (which the exhibit would be pretty pointless without), seeing all those frogs buoys my spirits. The tiny Golden Mantella Frog (Mantella aurantiaca) is still my favorite. Also, I visited with the Argentinosaurus and Giganotosaurus and the Louis Paul Jonas Stegosaurus model. Oh, and a marvelous photographic exhibit, "Nature's Jewels: Butterflies and Other Insects", all photos from the southeast and Mexico. That was wonderful, too. Afterwards, we got smoothies at Arden's Garden in Midtown (I had pineapple, mango, and ginger), then came home and read more of Dune. Then went out again for sushi. Then had a walk through Springdale and Virgilee parks along Ponce de Leon (and saw bats and the huge yellow-orange moon, just two nights from full). So, yes, a very good day off, and I slept an unbelievable eight and a half hours last night and feel much refreshed today.

Which is good, because now I have to go back to "Little Conversations" and expand it into "Salammbô Redux," which is going to be an odd, grim endeavor.

Also, I was under the impression (because it's what my editor at HarperCollins told me) that Beowulf was being released October 1st, but now Amazon says it was released on September 25th, yesterday. So, I really have no idea. I have yet to receive my author's copies (which comes as no sort of surprise whatsoever). Maybe it's already in bookstores. So, you can probably find a copy somewhere out there. It's only $7.99 from Amazon.

And I should remind you of the Threshold auction.

A note to all Sirenia Digest subscribers: this month's issue (#23) is running a little late, because Vince has been really weighted down with deadlines on other projects. But it will be along soon.

And I think that's it for me now. Where's the coffee?

So, last night I was awake until at least 3:45 a.m., and when I finally did go to sleep, Spooky didn't. I think she slept four or five hours last night. We pass it back and forth like a bad cold, this goddamned sleeplessness.

I did several more hours editing on Tales of Pain and Wonder yesterday, and, finally, the manuscript is in pretty good shape. The worst of the tedium is now behind me. And I never cease to be amazed at the words MS Word's spellchecker does know how to spell when there are so many it can't. Oh, sure, it knows velcro and styrofoam, and insists that both be capitalized (a suggestion I ignore), and I'm starting to think there are corporations who pay MS to be included in the dictionary in hopes of protecting their trademarks and such. Anyway, yes, another long day of editing, but now it's mostly done.

Today is going to be a Day Off, even though I feel guilty taking a Day Off when there's so much work to be done. But I have not had one since September 9th, and I think 15 days is long enough. I'll come back tomorrow and return to "Salammbô Redux" (née "Little Conversations"), which I hope to finish by Sunday. Because September is almost gone, and I still have not started Joey LaFaye or gotten back to the "Onion" screenplay. More time, that's all I want. More conscious, alert time. I want to be good for more than six or seven hours' work a day. Twelve would be nice.

Up above
Aliens hover
Making home movies
For the folks back home

Of all these weird creatures
Who lock up their spirits
Drill holes in themselves
And live for their secrets (Radiohead, "Subterranean Homesick Alien")

Oh, and I need to get my list done for the Horror Book of Lists, though I presently have no idea what sort of list it will be. Also, we're limping back into eBay (which has almost managed to become more trouble than it is worth) with a copy of the Threshold paperback. Comes signed, and I'll personalize it if you so desire.

Okay. Yes. Today is a Day Off. But first I have to deal with email...

Postscript (1:10 p.m.) — Yes, it's true I did not write, edit, or proofread on Saturday, but I spent it cleaning house, which a) counts as work, and b) does not count as a day off.