There's not a whole lot to report since my last actual entry, way back on April 23rd. I make sure I leave the House every day, but I rarely go farther than the sidewalk in front of the House. I'm hard at work on Beneath An Oil-Dark Sea, but I'm behind schedule, and I fear I'm about to have to set it aside to write the first fifth of Alabaster: The Good, the Bad, and the Bird for Dark Horse. Both are due on May 15th. This is called poor planning on my part. Sirenia Digest #99 is finished and will go out to subscribers this evening. I'm waiting on checks that have not arrived, worrying about money and my lousy health. I started a Tumbl[e]r account, out of boredom, but after only forty-eight hours I was utterly bored with it. I'm RPing in The Secret World and sort of playing WoW. I'm keeping a pen and paper journal again. That's a good thing, at least. My own thoughts, and only for me. I watch too much television. I take too many pills. I'm probably smoking to much weed, if this tightness in my chest is to be believed. I'm trying to steel myself for San Diego Comic Con, which I'm a "special guest" at this year, the only con I agreed to do in 2014. And Spooky and I have decided to spend my birthday in Manhattan.
On Friday, when the temperature was in the hight sixties Fahrenheit, we went to Conanicut Island. In the city, a few trees are green. Outside the city, in South County, virtually nothing seems green. It looks like early April, and it's even worse on the island. The wind and the sea were wild, and we watched a tiny lobster boat working much too near the eastern side of Beavertail. I took some photos, below, behind the cut. We didn't stay long, though, because it was just too chilly, and we'd not really dressed for it. Which was stupid, but hope springs eternal. Here are the photos:
Later On, Kittens,