"I walk on concrete. I walk on sand. But I can't find a safe place to stand."
The sun was out when I woke, and I opened the curtains in my office. Now, clouds are coming in. It's 23˚F, on the fourth day of March. There's not even the meanest hint of spring out there. Anyway, this is yesterday's stale Hell. I tried something different because I'm bored as fuck with this. It seemed like a good idea when I thought the Hellish cold would end after a couple of weeks. When I said, "I'm going to do this until we have a day warmer than 70˚F," an important part of my brain apparently thought I was living in a temperate zone. Anyway, yesterday:
Apparently the camera settings were off, which is why the photo looks as if I was shooting through a blue gel. However, it does communicate something about the cold. Anyway, failed experiment. From here on, you get dull-ass street shots. After all, monotony was the point.
Yesterday was mostly spent trying to come up with a story for the cyborg anthology. I might have one. But today and tomorrow I'm going to be at the Athenaeum proofreading the galleys for the Centipede Press edition of The Drowning Girl, which I should have done months ago.