So, even though there is absolutely no time for being sick, I'm sick. Hard to tell yet just how sick, but sick enough. It started off yesterday morning as a scratchy throat. Thing is, Spooky's been sick for almost a week, and every time I'd ask her about it, she'd tell me it was just allergies caused by the dust we're stirring up packing. To me, she looked sick, not allergic, but hey, she ought to know. So I didn't worry about catching it. But now I'm sick. Last night, fevers and chills. We have to hope this fucker is short lived, because here it is May 6th, and we leave Atlanta on Thursday, May 29th for Providence. And there is all the packing, and a mountain of work, and deadlines and scheduling that simply can not be Put Off Until Later. I used up all my sick time, back in February. And, possibly the worst problem here is that colds and flu often (since the mid '80s) leave me with a severe cough that can last, literally, for months. After I had the flu in February, I coughed an additional six weeks. And the bad tooth cannot be pulled if I'm coughing, because then it won't heal properly. So. Yeah. It's sort of a disaster.

Yesterday. We spent eight hours (1-9 pm) working on the corrections to A is for Alien, and we're still not done. So, that will be today. We also need to take books back to the Emory University library, but that may have to wait until tomorrow. Today, I get more misplaced or missing commas, fact checking, clumsy word repetitions, and other assorted tedium. Oh, and a good example of why sf writers should worry only just so much about the science in their sf stories. When I wrote "Zero Summer" in the summer of 2005, Saturn was believed to have 43 moons, but now, revising the story in 2007, I know that Saturn has more than 60 confirmed natural satellites. But the story is set in the nearish future. By then, we may know that Saturn has 80 moons. Do I stick with 60, knowing that astronomers consider that number provisional? Do I "guesstimate" ahead? Do I revise the story again in a few years? Frankly, the facts are hardly relevant to the truths of the story, so screw it.

My thanks to robyn_ma for pointing out that I can now actually see Isabella Rossellini's "bug porn" (Green Porno) at the Sundance Channel website. Yesterday, the site wasn't letting me in; today it is. Oh, and yes, I have downloaded the new, free NIN, and I'm listening to it now.

At some point yesterday, I left Spooky alone to work on the corrections to A is for Alien. I lay down on the sofa, thinking I could at least read the next chapter of Chris Beard's book on primate origins, but, instead, the best I could manage was an hour of being half asleep, dreaming though I was partly still awake. Later, late last night, Spooky read me more from House of Leaves, the terrible scene on the staircase, Navidson trapped alone at the bottom when it suddenly grows to impossible proportions, Tex's story of the sinking of the Atrocity. Not the perfect thing before bed, so then she read me Robert McCloskey's Time of Wonder (1957), which won a Caldecott Medal and is one of my all time favourite children's books. "Where do hummingbirds go in a hurricane?" Beautiful.

I got the following from Alan S. Montroso, via email, "...As was your story "Concerning Attrition and Severance"; its imagery and majesty have haunted me through the weekend. I understand why you felt it belonged in the obscurity of a closed drawer, but I am also grateful such a cruel creature has been unleashed." Thank you, Alan. It's good to see these reactions, because the story's out there now, and there's no pulling it back in. Comments on Sirenia Digest #29 are still welcome, by the way.

I haven't given the list of books in print in a while, so here it is again. And, though it might be cheaper and the "green" thing to do, buying used copies of my novels from Amazon, sadly, in no way helps my sales figures. Sadder still, I have to actually think about shit like sales figures:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

And here's the Amazon wish list, because, after all, this has been declared my Royal Birthday Month and -04 is a mere 20 days away.

There's a lot more of substance I wanted to write about this morning, but I feel like unto butt, and somehow I have to make it through the remainder of the corrections to A is for Alien.

So, yes, Sirenia Digest #29 (April) will be going out to subscribers this evening. That said, there has been a last minute change to the line up this issue. It will actually be comprised of two pieces by me this month, instead of one — "Flotsam" and "Concerning Attrition and Severance." The latter is the especially "brutal" piece I was fretting over so much a few days back. It was originally intended for Sirenia Digest #30 (May). However, Sonya (sovay) needed more time on her new piece, and I absolutely cannot stand to rush another author. So, next month, #30 will include the new vignette by Sonya and my "Rappaccini's Dragon" (which I hope to finish writing tomorrow). Also, there will be no illustration from Vince this month, due to a death in his family. However, he'll be back next month. I hope that was something like coherent, because I am nothing like awake.

I received a very nice email yesterday from Mr. Robert Feldman of Manhattan, the sort that keeps me from taking a claw hammer to my skull:

Ms. Kiernan,

I write to you from the dank, dark, and foreboding depths of the New York Public Library (yes, we do have ghosts and they do wear roller-skates!) where I am currently cataloging the new edition of your Tales of Pain and Wonder. I've read Alabaster and your contributions to Wrong Things and am very much enjoying the stories in Tales.... The Salmagundi and Salammbo stories are truly blowing me away because I attended the Storm King School (1971-74) and am very familiar with that part of the Hudson Valley. Your Pollepel Island is obviously your take on Bannerman's Island with it's spooky ruined castle right near Storm King Mountain. I climbed that mountain many, many times, and slept out overnight there; it is very creepy around there and a perfect setting for your stories. The Hudson Valley has many many places like this, certainly Sleepy Hollow inspired Washington Irving to write his tale of the headless horseman. A bit further north there is an island off the town of Staatsburg where wicked old Uncle Aleister Crowley spent the summer of 1918, supposedly writing "Do what thou wilt"....etc...in red paint on the rocks for passing ships to see. Then there is the town of Tivoli, much gentrified now but an extremely haunting place in the '70's when I attended Bard College just down the road from there. Thanks for reminding me of these places; they have an atmosphere that's very misty and otherworldly and I have many memories of them. I am enjoying your work very much and am looking forward to reading more. I've cataloged at the Library for twenty years now but this is the first time I've contacted an author. This is a good day job for an old Punk Rock/Goth guitar player and the perks are I get to discover writers like you and Poppy Brite while I'm working. Best wishes and I'll be looking forward to reading more of your work.

It makes everything just a little bit easier to take, knowing there's a copy of Tales of Pain and Wonder at the central branch of the NYC Public Library, where once I climbed a stone lion. Thank you, Robert.

I did 1,189 words yesterday on the new story, the aforementioned "Rappaccini's Dragon." I'd really hoped to finish it this month, but the mess that was Monday made that impossible. Then I packed four very heavy boxes of books, and Spooky washed more dinosaurs (photos here in her LJ; humglum), including my set from the Royal Ontario Museum and the Boston Museum of Science. Just now, she was making a joke regarding "Bathosaurus," and I checked, because I figured there was surely a "Bathysaurus," and there is, though it's not a reptile, but the Deepsea Lizardfish, Bathysaurus ferox. Anyway, after the packing, we read over "Flotsam" and "Concerning Attrition and Severance" for the sake of line edits. I think we finished that up at 7 pm, then had leftover chili for dinner. I looked over the new National Geographic, which is largely devoted to China and the ecological catastrophe that is China (fully 50% of the Yellow River [Huang He] — the sixth longest in the world — has been declared "biologically dead").

More Millenium last night, episode #9 from Season 1, "Loin Like a Hunting Flame." And then the new episode of Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel. And why the hell do I write all this crap down? Some odd compulsion to record.

Tomorrow is Beltane. Already.

I really am loving the new Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds disc. After last years Grinderman solo project, I had a feeling they'd be headed back this direction after the low point of Nocturama (2003). Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! feels a lot more like Let Love In with smatterings of the earlier albums.

Yes, I am disappointed by the results of the Pennsylvania primary. I don't think that either Clinton or Obama have much of a chance of winning the presidency, and I'm not one of those who sees Obama as some sort of panacea for the ills of this country, but, still. I've been trying to hope.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,125 words on a new piece for Sirenia Digest #30. It has no title, and I'm really not sure, yet, how to describe it.

While I'm thinking of it, here's that list again, those of my books in print, the ones that need to sell, the editions that need to sell (new, not used copies), etc.:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

Not much else to say for yesterday. I read a bit of Justine by the Marquis DeSade before I started writing. Last night, I watched two episodes of Deadliest Catch (despite the Bon Jovi theme song), a series I have a peculiar fondness for. My thing about the sea, I suppose. Hauling things up from the sea. The bleak beauty of the Bering Strait.

I think I need intravenous Red Bull this morning... (and it's not even really morning now, as of seventeen minutes ago).

First, an apology, of sorts, to the people who read this journal via MySpace. A few days back, MySpace mysteriously jettisoned the login cookie that prevents me having to remember my password and which email account I use for MySpace, and because I do actually rather hate MySpace, it was this morning before I could be bothered to try and remember what was what.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,267 words on Chapter One of The Red Tree. And I think that I have decided that there will not be footnotes, because too many people complain that footnotes break up the flow of the text. Instead, there will be endnotes for each chapter, which are really the same thing as footnotes, only they come at the end of the chapter instead at the foot of each page. Yesterday, I completed the first section of the chapter, and today I will begin the second.

It's that time again, time to point you to the places where you can easily acquire copies of all of my novels, and one of the short-story collections, so that no one has to utter those dreaded words, "I can't find your books." (shudder)

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

Not a bad day yesterday. I was done with the writing by 4:30 p.m. or so, and it was one of those perfect spring days outside. All those shades of fresh green bursting forth against the blue sky, and the sun so white and dazzling. I left the house for the second day in a row. We walked to Videodrome to return Enchanted (which I still name grotesquely charming). Then we got Thai for dinner, and then we watched the first two episodes of Millennium (now that we're done with Angel). Though I truly loved the second season, I missed most of the first. I think Millennium might have been Chris Carter at his creepiest, and I'm just glad it didn't show up on television until more than two years after I'd written my first Deacon Silvey story.

I passed much of the remainder of the evening in Second Life, rping with the Omegas in Toxian City. Really, it was all too complex and wacky and peculiar to try and recount, though Nareth's victorious battle against the sentient interstellar fungi that had infected her thrall's brain was quite invigorating. Later, Spooky read me more of House of Leaves. "Which is exactly when Karen screams." Such a sublime line. Oh, there was a very brief "absence" seizure following dinner, but I think I'm actually getting used to those little ones. So yes, a fine yesterday.

Slowly retrieving some of that lost sleep from last week. A full eight hours last night. I'm feeling much, much better, thank you. Sleep deprivation is one of the worst things for me just now, and I've made a new resolution to be in bed by two ayem every night. I may not be asleep, but at least I'll be in bed.

Today, with luck, I will begin writing The Red Tree. I now have four and a half months to write the novel, and I'll easily lose two weeks of that to the move. Yesterday, I finished Michael E. Bell's Food for the Dead: On the Trail of New England's Vampires (2001), a really excellent book treating the folklore of the tuberculosis-related cases of "vampirism" from Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts, etc. I first encountered the book at the Peace Dale Public Library (one of the most beautiful libraries in South County) in August 2006, while doing research there, and I scarfed a used copy of the book somewhere or another, but it's taken me this long to get around to reading it.

Yesterday, I also read "Ichnotaxonomy* of bird-like footprints: an example from the Late Triassic-Early Jurassic of Northwest Argentina" in the latest Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology. After dinner (Spanish rice with chicken, pintos with jalapeños, fresh avocados and tomato), I did a nice bit of rp with Lorne, Brit, Nicholette, and Artemisia (er...Spooky) in the library in Toxian City. Then Spooky and I watched Danny Boyle's Sunshine for the fourth time. Later still, I organized the hard-drive on my old iBook (Victoria Regina) while she read me a couple more chapters of House of Leaves (this will be our third time through). That was yesterday, pretty much.

Most of the stress during the last couple of weeks has derived from our trying to find a place to live in Providence, a living space suited to our particular needs and my particular aesthetic. We thought we'd found something good in Elmwood, but it turned out not to be so good after all. Don't even get me started on the three front doors. But yesterday, Spooky's mother looked at an apartment near the Armory District, which we think is going to be the place. It's perfect. So, the stress level has lessened considerably. Now, I just have to contemplate the nightmare of packing and making the actual move. We'll likely leave Atlanta sometime between mid and late May, so, not much time left at all.

I've not left the house since we got back from the Colin Meloy show on Thursday night, mostly because the weather turned cold after the thunderstorms on Friday. The warm-up is coming slower than predicted. It's been a chilly spring. I don't think we've had a single day in the '80s (Fahrenheit) yet. Right now, it's 48F, but feels like 42F with the wind chill.

My thanks to David Kirkpatrick (corucia) for the following photo (behind the cut), taken in a local (for him) Barnes and Noble in Minneapolis. I've always been annoyed at authors who measure their success by how many inches their books take up on the shelves of a bookshop, but, after most of these novels went out of print two years ago, seeing them back, seeing that I presently have five novels and a novelization on the shelves (and that they appear to be in the "science fiction and fantasy" section, not "horror"), is somewhat reassuring, I must admit.

( Shelfage )

Oh, and I have this comment from reverendcrofoot, regarding the age of the narrator in The Red Tree: "See, the thing with age is unless the author says it directly it's really hard to tell. I would have never guessed Dancy's age if you hadn't told me...Make her whatever age you want, but just don't tell us how old she is...avoid it. It would be interesting to see the ages people guess."

It would be interesting, perhaps, but I am far too visual and specific in my writing to allow the age of a central character (or most minor ones) to go unstated. How Sarah Crowe will face the trials of the novel, who she is, and so forth, all that stems from the sum of her life experiences, which can be measured, in part, by her age. A twenty-year-old woman would very likely not cope with these experiences the same way that a forty-four-year-old woman would, and much of what concerns me as an author is how a character acts or reacts (truthfully, I would argue action and reaction are synonyms) in any given situation. That was one of the joys of writing "Salammbô Redux (2007)" for the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, having the opportunity to go back and look at a character I first wrote as a preteen, now in her forties. So, interesting idea, but it would never work for me.

Oh, and I think today is the last day to vote in the 2008 Locus Poll & Survey. Many of my short stories are eligible, and Daughter of Hounds made the drop-down menu in the "Best Fantasy Novel" category.

Okay. Time for the juice of the bean.

* An ichnotaxon is a taxon — a family, genus, or species — based solely on evidence derived from fossil footprints (or other traces, such as the burrows left by marine animals). When I lived in Birmingham, back when I was still doing paleontology, I was often aided by Andy Rindsberg, a friend and inchologist, Curator of the paleontological collections of the Alabama State Geological Survey.

I'd not heard that Oakland Cemetery was damaged in the tornado of March 14th, the one that hit downtown Atlanta and the Fulton Cotton Mill lofts. The cemetery is directly west of the lofts, and, I know now that part of my mind has been trying hard not to consider the possibility that Oakland was hit. Of course, we haven't driven over there, because I didn't want to know how bad it was. Look at me, sticking my head in the sand. But last night I got email from Mike, one of my readers on MySpace, that Oakland was, indeed, hit and badly hit. This is the cemetery where I was interviewed last April for Frank Woodward's forthcoming Lovecraft documentary. Margaret Mitchell is buried there, along with various governors and Civil War veterans. I've read that eighty-six trees were uprooted as the storm passed through Oakland, including crape myrtles, magnolias, and oaks. Some of the trees were at least a century and a half old. And there are not many places in Atlanta that have ever made me feel any sense of peace, that even feel like places, but Oakland is one of them. Back when Atlanta still had a goth scene, lovely Victorian picnics were held at Oakland. It was one of the few reminders of history in a city that has worked so fervently to forget its history. So, I was horrified at the news. And yet, I thought, at least it wasn't the zoo that was hit, or the aquarium, or the botanical gardens. But still. Below is a photograph Spooky took last spring. I do not know if any of those trees are still standing. The cemetery is now closed, indefinitely, to visitors, and an evaluation is underway to determine what will be required for the restoration.





As for yesterday, I wound up going outside after all, chilly weather or no chilly weather. I needed to get over to Emory University to find a couple of books I want to read again before writing my afterword for A is for Alien, including John J. Pierce's Odd Genre: A Study in Imagination and Evolution (1994) and Slusser and Rabkin's Aliens: The Anthropology of Science Fiction (1987). At least there were no civil-defence sirens this time. We did hear a chickadee, as we were leaving, but never spotted it. Also, yesterday, I sent a copy of the new edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder to Jeff VanderMeer. Well, actually, Spooky's the one who made the trip to the p.o., not me. She also sent the "typescript" of A is for Alien to Sonya (sovay) and the signed contracts for the same book to subpress. A new issue of the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology arrived. Really not much else to say for yesterday.

A small seizure last night. Not one of the big tooth-cracking ones. I just went somewhere else for thirty seconds or a minute or so. Still, it scares the hell out of me and Spooky both. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue mentioning the fits here. The seizure days.

I have a phone call from my agent at four p.m., and I'm hoping to do some writing first, so I should wrap this up. I have something in mind, a very short piece to accompany "Pickman's Other Model" in Sirenia Digest #28. So, time to gather up my platypus and get to it.

Postscript (3:26 p.m.) — A contest. I'm taking requests for the short second piece, a vignette (approx. 2,000 words), for this month's issue of Sirenia Digest. Something overtly erotic, something sharp, something nasty*. Please leave your suggestions here or email to greygirlbeast(at)gmail(dot)com, suggestions, requests, whatever, and should I choose your request/suggestion, I will send you your choice of either a signed and personalized copy of the Beowulf novelization or the new mmp of Murder of Angels. C'mon, people. Challenge me.

* "nasty" sensu "malicious; spiteful" and/or "painful or dangerous; grave" and/or "morally offensive; indecent."

Sir Arthur C. Clarke has died. From 2001: A Space Odyssey to Childhood's End, a notable influence on my own writing, on themes addressed in my own sf, and a remarkable human being.

---

We made it all the way through the proofreading of "Pickman's Other Model" yesterday (44 ms. pp.; for Sirenia Digest #28). But between my cough and Spooky aching ear, we did not get to "The Ape's Wife" or begin reading the A is for Alien ms. That'll be today.

And, again, here are the links for my books, those presently in print, the most recent editions, the ones I have to worry about sales figures for:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

---

There resides in our freezer the remains of a Peep that we began either experimenting upon or torturing (take your pick) way back in either 2003 or 2004. It's been subjected to microwaves and repeated freezing and thawing, over four or five years now. Amazingly, you can still see its "eyes." It stands as my salute to Corporate Xtian Holidays Stolen From Pagan Sources©. And as proof of the durability of certain supposed foodstuffs. There are two photos (warning — nasty) behind the cut, which Spooky took day before yesterday:

( not food )

---

Ostara is upon us again. If she's up to it, Spooky and I will observe the sabbat Friday night.

And there's really not much else to be said for now. It's grey and dreary out, not quite cold, not quite warm, and I'm wishing I were anywhere but here; okay, well, not anywhere....

I've just gotten word that Steve Jones is taking "The Ape's Wife" for The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror (#19). This will mark my ninth appearance in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror since 1998. And I love this particular story so much, I'm very glad to see it make the cut.

And, in case you've not already figured it out, no, the tornado did not suck us away to Oz last night. But we did lose power for a while. Most of the damage was downtown and to the west, south and east of us. We got a terrific thunderstorm, with hail. Even as I type this, a new line of storms is bearing down on the city, but hopefully nothing like what came through last night.

Not much to report about yesterday, except that my hair is all red again. And my editor is as baffled as I as to why you cannot yet order the new edition of Murder of Angels from Amazon.com, and she's looking into it (but, hey, that's why we have Barnes & Noble). Oh, and last night we watched Alison Chernick's documentary, Matthew Barney: No Restraint (2006), about the making of Barney's Drawing Restraint 9 (2005). Fortunately, one of the iBooks had enough juice to play a DVD, so we did not perish of boredom.

On Thursday, well, tons of the busyness of writing, including an interview for the Fearzone website. The uncorrected draft of "Pickman's Other Model" was sent to Vince to illustrate for Sirenia Digest #28. I think the rest was too dull to bear mentioning, no matter how much of it there was.

And if you're an SL steampunk, do not forget that Monday is Air Kraken Day. Don't worry. I'll take pictures.

Okay, well, Spooky says I need a bath, and she's willing to help, so shut up, Herr Platypus, it'll all still be here waiting for me afterwards...

Here are the links to the latest editions of all my books, the ones I need to sell so that there will be future books:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

Yesterday was a decent enough writing day. I did 1,125 words on "Pickman's Other Model" and finished the third section of the story. HPL never gave first names for either Eliot or Thurber, and after looking into names that were popular in the late 19th Century, when Thurber (narrator) of "Pickman's Model" would have likely been born*, I have settled on William Thurber, who, it turns out, had an older sister named Ellen (I think).

Have I mentioned how much I love the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder. I do not generally tend to look at my books very much once they are published, but I'm making an exception with this one. It's been such a long road, turning this collection into a book I'm happy with, I feel I should try to savor it. This edition more than makes up for the mess that Meisha Merlin foisted upon me (and everyone who bought the book). This is probably as near to what I'd originally intended it to be as I can ever hope to come.

Byron dropped by last night, and we did dinner at the Vortex, and broke the news to him about the move to Rhode Island. I'm going to make a very short list about the things in the South I will miss, and Bryon is on that list. He took it well. Of course, I wish we could just haul him north with us. Anyway, after dinner, we watched Austin Powers (1997), which I'd never seen, and Spooky had only seen while stoned. I fear I was not impressed. I tried to be impressed, but it just seemed like the same only faintly humorous line delivered again and again. For spoofs of sixties spies, I'll stick with James Coburn and Lee J. Cobb in Daniel Mann's Our Man Flint (1966). After the movie, we happened to catch the infamous scientology episode of South Park (which I'd only seen once), and I swear, that one episode is such a tremendous service to mankind that Trey Parker and Matt Stone deserve a Nobel Prize.

Sometime back, I decided it was best for this blog to steer clear of politics, but Hilary Clinton's behavior the last couple of weeks has finally pushed me to break radio silence on the subject of the 2008 US presidential election. Specifically, her bizarre attempt to convince voters that, if worse comes to worse and she doesn't get the Democratic nomination, that the Republican's McCain would make a better President than would Barack Obama. Has any Democratic candidate ever made such a twisted, desperate bid to sway an election? It's very hard to listen to her campaign rhetoric and not come away with the impression that what she's really saying here comes down to, "Yes, McCain's the enemy, but at least he's white." So, though I hate sounding like a reactionary, I have chosen what is, in my opinion, the lesser of two evils, or, more specifically, Hilary Clinton's actions have made the choice for me. The Obama sign goes up in the front yard next week. Besides, he's kind of cute, and we surely can't say that about McCain or Clinton, and I think he's more likely to get the country out of Iraq than is the somewhat hawkish Hilary Clinton. As usual, Olbermann does not mince words:



Anyway, don't forget that Sunday everyone switches back to Caitlín Standard Time (which is sort of annoying, as I will no longer be early for everything).

* I draw this conclusion based upon Thurber describing himself as "middle-aged" and the assumption that the story is contemporaneous with the time that HPL wrote it (September 1926; published October 1927).

I was up a wee bit too late last night (but thank you Lorne and Larissa), and then there were the nightmares, so I'm presently somewhat dazed and disoriented. I'm awake, I'm just mostly elsewhere.

Yesterday, I did 1,070 words on "Pickman's Other Model." The writing started out slowly, but then built up some momentum. A much better day of it than I had on Wednesday. If it'll just all hold together, in terms of the story's historical authenticity, I think I'm going to like this one.

I want to say again how happy I am with the Subterranean Press edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder. My thanks to everyone who has ordered a copy thus far.

After about half a dozen people expressed an interest in participating in the Second Life "Sirenia Players," I went ahead and established the group yesterday evening. At this point, four people have been invited in, three have accepted. More invitations will go out this evening. We'll probably have an informal get-together in a few weeks, to talk through the basics, lay some ground rules, and so forth. If you're interested, I need your SL username, otherwise I can't find you to send you an invitation, and the group is invite-only.

A good walk yesterday, down Sinclair Avenue to talk to Daisy Dog and the dinosaur. The Narcissus and camellias are blooming. I'm going to miss these Southern springs, but I figure it'll be more than fair, the trade off. Speaking strictly in terms of climate, it's a bloody shame the great industrial (and cultural) centers of this country were not founded in the southeast, instead of the northeast. Oh, fickle fucking happenstance. Anyway, after dinner, another two episodes of Angel. I enjoyed "Slouching Towards Bethlehem," but "Supersymmetry" was just a little too something.

And really, I think that's all for now. Time to dance with the platypus in the pale moonlight (of..um..day).

Yesterday was not a good writing day. It took me all afternoon to produce a measly 716 words on "Pickman's Other Model." The constant need to fact check (everything from the movie industry in 1920's Fort Lee, New Jersey to the geography of the Massachusetts North Shore) didn't help, and there was one paragraph I spent almost an hour on — writing it, rewriting it, re-rewriting it, trying to get the wording just right. The voice of this story does not bear much resemblance to the peculiar use of first-person narrative that Lovecraft employed in "Pickman's Model." It's far more reserved, as the character of Eliot, as i am choosing to write him, is quite a different person than was Thurber (the narrator of HPL's story). One neat thing, yesterday I discovered an unexpected overlap between Low Red Moon and "Pickman's Other Model," and, as it turns out, this story will provide a bit more history to Narcissa Snow's family. Anyway, hopefully today will go better. Truthfully, I should not have attempted such an ambitious short story when I have so many deadlines pressing in on me, but, damn it, this is what I want to be writing. Also, my thanks to derekcfpegritz for pointing me to a better e-text of "Pickman's Model" (at Wikisource).

So many things in my head this morning, I'm bound to forget something.

Yesterday, after the writing, UPS dropped (literally) a 45 lb. box of Tales of Pain and Wonder and Tails of Tales of Pain and Wonder onto our front porch. And now I have seen the 3rd edition of the collection, and it is beautiful, and I am extremely grateful to Bill Schafer at subpress for giving me another chance to get this book right. In particular, Richard A. Kirk's artwork is reproduced beautifully. It's just a gorgeous book, and if you haven't already ordered, I urge you to do so now, because soon it will be sold out once again, and, if you wish to own it, you'll have to resort to paying exorbitant eBay prices to people who are not me.

And I was extremely pleased that Christian Siriano won Project Runway 4. I just had to say that, because I am a fashion nerd (thank you, Diana Eng).

No walk yesterday, because I just wasn't up to the chilly wind. It's much warmer today, I'm glad to say.

I'm considering (and I know this is a strange idea, bear with me) of establishing an rp group on Second Life to try rping through certain scenarios before I write them as vignettes or stories for Sirenia Digest. I'd probably call it "The Sirenia Players" (how could I not), and it would be a small group, no more than ten people, I think. Part of the great, untapped potential of SL is all the ways it can aid authors, and this would be another way of taking advantage of what it has to offer. To date, I have derived a number of pieces for the digest from SL rps, including "The Steam Dancer," Scene in the Museum (1896)," and "In the Dreamtime of Lady Resurrection". Anyway, speak up here or via email — greygirlbeast(at)gmail(dot)com — if you might be interested, and I'll keep you posted.

Also, you can now "See the Alternate Ending for I Am Legend That Was Too Satisfying for Test Audiences," courtesy New York Entertainment (my thanks to chris_walsh for pointing me to this). It's still not the right ending, but is an ending that follows logically and emotionally from the rest of the film, doesn't reinforce the myth that the military can save us from a doomsday of our own devising, and it is far, far preferable to what was shown in theatres. Of course, if you have not yet seen the film and want to, it's probably best not to watch this ending, as it is undeniably spoilerish. If only the practice of employing "test audiences" to aim films at the lowest common denominator (which is to say, the average audience) would go the way of the non-avian theropods...

Yesterday I did 1,065 words on "Pickman's Other Model." Another good writing day. I'm really starting to fall in love with this story. I'm guessing I'll likely be able to finish it, at this rate, by Sunday or Monday. By the way, if you are unfamiliar with Lovecraft's "Pickman's Model," you may now read the entire story online (though I still recommend reading it from an actual book).

People who pre-ordered the new Subterranean Press edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder should be receiving their copies any time now. And if you haven't ordered, I think there might be a hundred or so copies left at the publisher.

This is, I think, actually going to be a genuinely shortish entry. Huzzah.

After the writing yesterday, we had a walk in Freedom Park. It was a little chilly for my liking, but the sky was filled with wonderful clouds. After dinner, we watched the first three episodes of Season Four of Angel, and I think the series is really starting to hit its stride right about here. And it was great getting Alexa Davalos as the "electrifying" Gwen in "Ground State," as I'd enjoyed her as Kyra ("Jack") in The Chronicles of Riddick. And getting to see a green Fred wasn't so shabby, either (in "The House Always Wins"), at least not if you are given to the sorts of...oh, never mind. I read "Dinosaur teeth from the Cenomanian of Charentes, Western France: evidence for a mixed Laurasian-Gondwanan assemblage" in the latest Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology (Vol. 27, No. 4). Later still, I had Second Life rp as Nareth the cyborg Nephilim in Toxian City. First, there was a bit of fetish magick and phylactery, raising a protective sentry for the Omega Institute, and then Nareth had some issues with absolute zero and temporal flux, and, finally, she was granted the ability to cry (whether she wanted it or not). There's a screencap behind the cut. That was yesterday.

( Nareth and Larissa )

And just in case you have not yet heard about the discovery, from a Welsh lobster pot, of the first-known "hexapus", well, now you have. As for me, I've no time for any 'pus at the moment but Herr Platypus, who needs a breath mint, I think.

Winter returned to Atlanta with a vengeance. Lows in the 20s, windchills in the teens. Ugh. But we're supposed to be back up into the 60s by Saturday.

I spent yesterday on Sirenia Digest #27. I read over the story that is not called "Untitled 33," but is, in fact, called "Beatification," and made a few edits. It's dark, visceral, but I think it's also one of the most intensely erotic pieces I've yet written for the Digest. I wrote a longer-than-usual prolegomena. Oh, and I'd decided the day before, after talking with my agent about Joey Lafaye, that I'd include Chapter One of the book in this issue, as a sort of "sneak preview." Anyway, back to yesterday, I also picked two older pieces, because we've got quite a few new subscribers this month, and I wanted to give them a better idea of what the Digest is like on those months when I've not had to deal with dental trauma and the flu and such. I chose "The Sphinx's Kiss" and "Untitled 23." Both of these stories include a Vince Locke illustration. So, this month is an extra-long issue, 47 pages, including 9,567 words of previously unpublished fiction. At this point, I'm just waiting on the final inks of Vince's illustration for "Beatification" before sending the issue out to be PDFed. It should go out to subscribers tonight or tomorrow.

Not a whole lot else to report in this entry. I've been watching far too much television, including a marathon of seven episodes of Angel Tuesday night, which brought us to the end of Season Three. Last night, we watched Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited (including the short "Part 1" feature, The Hotel Chevalier), which I loved. Wes Anderson has become one of my favorite "new" directors. I've dubbed his films morosely upbeat, which seems about right. Spooky made a wonderful chicken soup last night, with tomatoes and kale, tons of garlic and mushrooms, thyme, sage, bay, and so forth.

Please have a look at the current eBay auctions if you have not yet done so. Bid if you are able and so inclined. This is probably the only copy of the Japanese translation of the Beowulf novelization that I'll be able to offer. Also, I think the new edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder should be shipping any day now (unless it already has). I believe, at this point, the edition is 80% sold out, so if you haven't ordered, and you intend to, now would be better than later.

Time to make the doughnuts....

Generally speaking, when seen from space, the earth is a blue planet. Not a green planet. I was thinking this some indeterminable number of weeks ago, after a barrage of "green" television commercials — everything from "green" house cleansers to "green" automobiles to "green" oil companies. Whatever genuine meaning the word might have ever held for environmentalists, it has now been co-opted and lost to doublespeak and marketing/PR strategists. However, since this world is actually a blue world, and not a green world, the only damage that has been done is that a lot of gullible (if, perhaps, well meaning) people have been suckered into believing that they're doing good when they're only adding more crap to the landfills and more greenhouse gases to the atmosphere.

Yesterday, I did 1,132 words on the story that will not be called "Untitled 33," and came rather unexpectedly upon the ending. It's a vignette, which was, after all, the original purpose of Sirenia Digest. I only partly suspected I'd found the ending, but then Spooky read it aloud, and she said, "That's the end." So, there you go. I went ahead and sent it to Vince Locke to be illustrated. Today, I will try to find a second vignette for #27. Oh, and I've had several people email or comment that they don't mind if the digest is a little late, to which I reply, thank you, it's a kind and generous and appreciated sentiment, but just because my brain has decided to start having these stupid little electrical storms, it doesn't mean I'm going to start slacking off.

Yesterday, sovay asked for photos of the Japanese edition of the Beowulf novelization, and I meant to take some photos, but never got around to it. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow. I'm thinking of adding one copy of the Japanese edition to the eBay auctions. Also, if you intend to pre-order the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, which comes with the FREE Tails of Tales of Pain and Wonder chapbook, perhaps you should do so before much longer, as I am told it will likely sell out soon.

Spooky made a marvelous Indian dinner last night — a brown curry with potatoes, carrots, and beef, along with nan and samosas. Later, Byron came by for Torchwood, and afterwards we talked for a while. It was the first time we'd seen him in a couple of weeks.

I take it as some bit of evidence that I have begun to heal from the idiocies of 2005 that I'm actually interested in the Oscar telecast this year. I've always been sort of an Oscar nerd, then in 2006, I just didn't care. In 2007, I simply forgot to watch, which had never happened before. But this year, I'm actually somewhat excited. It probably helps that there are so many good movies nominated, and that I've seen a fair number of them. Anyway, later today I'll do my obligatory Oscar post, my list of who I think ought to win.

It is with great relief that I can report that yesterday I wrote 1,173 words on a new piece for Sirenia Digest. It doesn't have a title yet, but I know it won't be called "Untitled 33." I was slightly annoyed, after getting quite a ways into the piece to realize that it shares a good bit in common with "Untitled 31" from #25. Spooky says this is not a problem, and I'm trusting her, because I like where it's going.

Also, yesterday the UPS guy hurled a package from HarperCollins onto the front porch. Turned out it contained comp copies of the UK and Japanese editions of the Beowulf novelization. The UK edition is fairly unremarkable, virtually indistinguishable from the American mass-market paperback, but the Japanese edition is a gorgeous little thing. Not as gorgeous as the Korean translation, but very, very cool, nonetheless.

And Subterranean Press is now reporting that the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, currently their featured title, will be shipping next week to those who have preordered.

Still grey out there, but we're supposed to get a high of 57F today, and there's supposed to be sun this afternoon. Last night, Spooky found a pointy stick and made me leave the house for the first time in a week. She herded me into the car, and we stopped at Videodrome, where we rented Calum Grant and Joshua Atesh Litle's magnificently underwhelming Ever Since the World Ended (2001), which I think is evidence I should leave the house even less often. Oh, and we watched two more eps from Season Three of Angel ("Couplet" and "Loyalty").

Okay. Just a reminder that the current eBay auctions continue. Now, it's time to make the doughnuts.