I'm putting this here, because I don't want to lose it. because it made me smile, and I've begun trying to stockpile those sorts of things. "This story opens like Radiohead doing a cover version of a Pogues song about a John Le Carre novel." ~ Jonathan Strahan, December 5th (Twitter), on Black Helicopters.
My dreams are back, "bright and violent." This morning, I watched something strike a full moon, and I watched as the moon came apart and the shattered pieces plummeted to earth.
readingthedark arrived about 8:30 p.m. (CaST), I think, and we ordered pizza from Pizza Gusto, half with pepperoni, half without, because he's not one of us omnivores. And we talked. And talked. And talked, about — let me see — Lovecraft and Dunsany, pharmaceuticals, Rasputina and the Dresden Dolls and the ukuleloid plague, Tom Cruise and Keanu Reeves, cats, high-functioning autism, the films of Shane Black, The Secret World, Second Life (In memoriam), my mutable brain, the paper monkey on his back, Spooky's infinite patience, Isaac and Isobel and Elspeth Snow, Quinn, all the new open space in my office, blah, blah, blah, and...we talked. He left about 4 a.m. (CaST) with a couple of boxes and two or three bags of the books I'd culled from my "library." Thank you, Geoffrey.
I have three months worth of work to do in the next three weeks.
Oh, something else that made me smile (thank you, setsuled):
And that's probably all I have to say for now. Feel free the comment, especially if you have anything to say about the most recent issue of the digest. I'll try to say stuff back.