I'm probably less sick than I was this time yesterday. There's only the mucus and some exhaustion. At least I'm sleeping. The worst part is having lost all those days that I can't get back. Last winter, I didn't catch anything. It was wonderful. Keeping my contact with society to a minimum has its benefits. If Spooky didn't have to go out into the world, we'd never catch these bugs.
And on that note, you know, people justify the use of emoticons and such by saying that without it meaning is unclear when writing online. For example: Keeping my contact with society to a minimum has its benefits. If Spooky didn't have to go out into the world, we'd never catch these bugs. Do you take that sentence at face value, interpret it literally? Or am I being sarcastic? Should I explain which to be sure I'm understood? If I don't explain am I to be blamed when someone misinterprets?
Frankly, I dislike sarcasm. To quote Oscar Wilde, "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” Then again, maybe he was being sarcastic, and maybe my use of the quote here is an attempt at irony. Maybe.
Gary Wolfe has written a very, very, very positive review of The Ape's Wife and Other Stories, and you can see it in the new issue of Locus. Bill Schafer let me know about the review yesterday, and I broke down and bought a digital copy. I'm pretty sure there nowhere between Manhattan and Boston that carries Locus, or I would have held out for paper. Anyway, yes, a splendid review. I'll quote from it in a few days. Meanwhile, note: If you order the collection from Amazon, where it can be had for only $27, you're ordering the regular trade hardback, not the limited. The limited has to be ordered directly from Subterranean Press.
And only those who order the limited edition also receive the hardback novella Black Helicopters. There was some confusion about this yesterday. Also, there are no plans to reprint Black Helicopters anytime in the foreseeable future. Anyway, the collection will sell out, so if you haven't ordered...you know the drill. Thanks.
Yesterday, I did 1,058 words on "Pickman's Madonna" (for Sirenia Digest #93; this will also be the title of the third chapter of Cherry Bomb). I'd hoped to finish it yesterday, but there was research on the fly, unexpected questions I had to answer for myself, and I didn't. Today I'll finish it. I swear to fuck, if only I could have two months more grafted onto this year, I might catch up.
Last night we played Guild Wars 2, then watched the most recent episode of The Walking Dead, then watched Robert Zemeckis' Flight (2012). It was a somewhat better film than what I've come to expect from Robert Zemeckis, a director I've learned to avoid. Sadly, his golden years were the eighties, when he directed Back to the Future (1985), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), and Romancing the Stone (1984). There was Death Becomes Her in 1992, and then...well, I blame Forest Gump (1994). But Flight isn't bad. A little treacly around the edges, and the last fifteen minutes or so need to go, but not bad. If Ridley Scott had directed it, it might have been great. Frankly, I will never fucking forgive Zemeckis for the travesty that was his 3D Beowulf (2007).
Okay. Time to write.
Still Not Tip Top,