I've done my time in the cold. I don't have to do this ever again.
I'm holding these thoughts like a rosary.
Currently, it's 13˚F, with a windchill of -12˚F. We have a windchill warning. This is February. Spring should be just around the corner. It isn't, not here.
On Wednesday, we're going to try to make it back home for one night.
Yesterday, I wrote A, B, C, and D on "The Aubergine Alphabet," 1,272 words. Part One, A-M, will be in Sirenia Digest #109. Toady, I need to get back to work on the screenplay. We'll see,
We've been watching Season 7 of Mad Men, the final season. I can't help but feel as if I understand it too well. The world has moved on, which is what the world does, and it's left me behind. The world I understood is gone, and this world makes no sense to me, and I want nothing to do with it.
I read "Tacuarembemys kusterae, gen. et sp. nov., a new Late Jurassic–?earliest Cretaceous continental turtle from western Gondwana."
And that's all for now.