Yesterday I wrote 2,064 words on "The Peddler's Tale, or Isobel's Revenge," which, for me, is quite an impressive word count. However, I did not find the story's conclusion. Today I will. I'll need to give the finished piece a good reading, and there will likely be no end of corrections. But it will be done. I'd hoped to get Sirenia Digest #95 out before year's end, but that's obviously not going to happen. It will, however, come along not too many days late, and this month there will be two new illustrations by Vince Locke.
My mind is no less the storm than it was yesterday, and the earthquakes continue. Small, sudden, as unpredictable as all earthquakes.
I have decided that early in 2014 I will be running a very modest Kickstarter in order to raise enough money to produce two complete bound printouts of the entirety of my blog (minus comments and images) from Blogger and LiveJournal, 2001 to 2014. I'll keep one set and the other will go to the John Hay with the papers I'll be passing along to them soon. Finally, I'll be able to stop worrying about the permanence of this journal. It will be safe.
Last night, after Kid Night pizza from Pizzeria Gusto, we watched Renny Harlin's surprisingly effective Devil's Pass (2013), an sf thriller based on the 1959 Dyatlov Pass incident. I was impressed. The film errs only in providing too much exposition towards the end, which not only threatens to defuse the essential mystery but which also threatens to clutter. And enhancing the creatures at the end with CGI was largely another misstep; I've see still of the SFX makeup, and it was plenty creepy all on its own. It was masterful. Regardless, I liked the film a lot, and it's currently streaming on Netflix. Oh, and I had a Goo Goo Cluster last night for the first time in – I don't know – at least 27 years. They are still delicious, though at some point they shrunk.
Sometimes I wonder if it's a lifetime of mental illness that has protected me from becoming jaded.
The internet is a temple to the jaded. Its inhabitants seek to prove how jaded they have become as a measure of intelligence and sophistication and superiority over anything sincere.
I have not left the house since Sunday. I want to be well south of here, and I want to be outside.
North & Inside,