Yesterday, I wrote 763 words on Agents of Dreamland. If I can just manage 1,100 words a day, I'll be done by Thursday evening. By the way, if you're a Sirenia Digest subscriber, you'll be getting a sneak preview of the novella in #115.
I've now owned an iPhone (my first "smartphone") since July 28, almost a month, and I've spoken to no one on it. I've called no one, and no one's called me. Which is probably while it took me so long to retire the old phone (circa 2004). I just don't use the phone. Most of my business communication is done via email, as I'm far more articulate when I write, and because I loathe my voice. And as for non-business phone calls, well, those just don't seem to happen. I once was a social beast, but that was long, long ago. I have noted that the iPhone's design does not seem to take into account the shape of the human hand or face. It makes a 1957 Bakelite rotary telephone look positively ergonomic. Give me a handset, please. I'm not impressed. Fortunately, it only cost me $1 (well, and a more expensive plan with Sprint).
Truism: Assuming anyone to be racist because of their race is, as it happens, racist.
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HD did nothing good whatsoever for Spock's ears.
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"Dope will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no dope."—Freewheelin' Franklin Freek
Last night, we watched the first three episodes of Damon Lindelof and Tom Perrotta's The Leftovers. I was hesitant because I absolutely hated Lost and also because the whole "Rapture" thing was one of the most terrifying (and absurd) bugaboos of my childhood. Who needs monsters when you have the eschatology of evangelical Christianity? Anyway, the first two episodes left me on the fence, but the third was very good, so I'll be sticking with it for a bit. It helps, of course, that there's absolutely no reason for the characters to believe that the event of October 14th was Jesus whisking the best folks off the Heaven, if only because a lot of perfectly rotten people were taken and a lot of innocents were untouched. "They're not our dogs anymore." What a great piece of dialogue.
I should get to it. I'm burning daylight here.