And today is the 125th birthday of Lovecraft's birth. I'd go to the grave this evening, but there will likely be a crowd.
Yesterday was mostly wasted walking around the Providence Place Mall, because there was AC there. I fucking hate malls. I also hate seeing how anything that enjoys a little popularity gets merchandised to death. It's the silver lining to Alabaster having failed to become the huge hit that Dark Horse thought it would. I don't have to step in Newbury Comics and see Dancy shot glasses and thongs. I don't have to watch the characters and stories drained of all authenticity.
Today, the weather's a little cooler (but humid as hell), and I'm writing. I mean to finish Agents of Dreamland on Thursday evening, at the latest.