For now, the anger has ebbed. I'm just tired and depressed and a little strung out.
Bill Schafer has given me permission to add two or three additional stories to Beneath an Oil-Dark Sea, and I know one will be "Goggles (c. 1900.)" It's possible that will be the only one I add. I've also spoken with Nicky and Pete Crowther at PS Publishing, and I can tell you that the Drugstore Indian Press edition of A is for Alien will include a handful of stories not in the original, including "Galápagos," "Hydraguros," and "The Steam Dancer (1896)." Right now, I should be working on new fiction, but I'm going to have to spend a couple of days adding these old tales to these two books, instead. It's my own fault. I made the suggestions.
papersteven asked if "Untitled 17" will appear in Beneath an Oil-Dark Sea as "Untitled 17." Yes, it will. I'm keeping the original "title."
I didn't write yesterday. I did manage to catch up on my email, and I guess that counts for something. Just barely.
Here are some photos from Tuesday night and Wednesday:
In Woodstock, the pajama chair and my side of the bed.
The incredible Richie Havens. We watched Woodstock: 3 Days of Peace & Music (1994), the 25th Anniversary "Director's Cut" of Michael Wadleigh's Woodstock (1970), which is 40 minutes longer than the original theatrical release. Back in December, we promised ourselves we'd watch it at the cabin, and, so, on our very last night there, we did.
Wednesday morning, and the view from the window near the table where I wrote "The Aubergine Alphabet" and various of bits and pieces. The green is misleading, but at least the forest is kindly and bothers to lie.
Spooky, wishing we didn't have to leave. She didn't tell me that's what she was doing; I don't have to ask.
There's history everywhere you turn. Everywhere. For example, this chaise? Yeah. Bob Dylan set here, along with Sally Grossman, for the iconic photo that appears on Bringing It All Back Home (1965). Yep, same fucking chaise. Oh, it's a bit threadbare, and smells a little of cat pee. But it's weathered the last forty-nine years better than I have. We spent three months with this chaise. Hubero slept there all winter, accompanied by (he claims), Rainbow Garcia, the LSD Cat.
Dylan, Sally, and (Hubero swears) Rainbow.
I had a whole bunch of shitty photos of the shitty drive home. Here's one of ice on a road cut on the Mass Pike, somewhere in the Berkshires.
All photographs, except Bringing It All Back Home, Copyright © 2015 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
From Facebook, yesterday:
I haven't had a chance to see a film in the theatres since the brilliant Interstellar (which I'll be watching again tonight on BluRay). The film I am most upset about having missed is the Wachowski's Jupiter Ascending, which I'll be preordering. If it's even half as marvelous as Cloud Atlas, wow.