"Lydia, oh Lydia, oh have you met Lydia?"
Mostly cloudy today, but now the sun is out. Huzazah. Our high was 80˚F, with a heat index of 83˚F.
Work was hit and miss today. I work angry, after going to bed angry, about something on beyond idiotic. But I did get a good email written to Mike Polcyn, and another to someone I'm working with on TV rights for XXXXXXXXXX. And one of my agents regarding the Nan Goldin text. And I briefly spoke with Amelia Zietlow at the American Museum regarding work she's doing standardizing how we measure mosasaur skulls. And I signed a bunch of checks for Spooky to take to the bank. But considering I hardly slept five hours, not bad.
Next week, I return to McWane in earnest and start plowing ahead on MP1, and I also begin compiling the ms. for Bradbury Weather. Actually, that latter project may be how I spend this weekend. I am truly fucking dreading it.
Today is Lydia's fifth birthday. Baby is five.
As I said on Twitter today, ironically (I suppose), I don't read a lot of fiction, an I read very, very little 21st Century fiction. That said, I just read, finally, Nathan Ballingrud's splendid North American Lake Monsters and adored it. I mean, I greatly admired it. Hints of Cormac McCarthy & Nic Pizzolatto, but, in the end, Ballingrud is his on beast. I am now reading James Elroy's The Black Dahlia.
Please have a look at the Big Cartel shop.
The photo below shows almost all the foreign editions of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir that have appeared so far. I don't have a copy of the Polish edition, and the Russian one is a work in progress (assuming the war does not get in the way). So, from top to bottom, we have Romanian, French, Portuguese (1), Turkish, Portuguese (2), German, and Spanish.
I think that's enough for now. I'm trying to avoid getting political today. Too much anger. I do not need my anger. You surely do not.
Later Tater Beans (triumphant!),
Aunt Beast
2:22 p.m.
Work was hit and miss today. I work angry, after going to bed angry, about something on beyond idiotic. But I did get a good email written to Mike Polcyn, and another to someone I'm working with on TV rights for XXXXXXXXXX. And one of my agents regarding the Nan Goldin text. And I briefly spoke with Amelia Zietlow at the American Museum regarding work she's doing standardizing how we measure mosasaur skulls. And I signed a bunch of checks for Spooky to take to the bank. But considering I hardly slept five hours, not bad.
Next week, I return to McWane in earnest and start plowing ahead on MP1, and I also begin compiling the ms. for Bradbury Weather. Actually, that latter project may be how I spend this weekend. I am truly fucking dreading it.
Today is Lydia's fifth birthday. Baby is five.
As I said on Twitter today, ironically (I suppose), I don't read a lot of fiction, an I read very, very little 21st Century fiction. That said, I just read, finally, Nathan Ballingrud's splendid North American Lake Monsters and adored it. I mean, I greatly admired it. Hints of Cormac McCarthy & Nic Pizzolatto, but, in the end, Ballingrud is his on beast. I am now reading James Elroy's The Black Dahlia.
Please have a look at the Big Cartel shop.
The photo below shows almost all the foreign editions of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir that have appeared so far. I don't have a copy of the Polish edition, and the Russian one is a work in progress (assuming the war does not get in the way). So, from top to bottom, we have Romanian, French, Portuguese (1), Turkish, Portuguese (2), German, and Spanish.
I think that's enough for now. I'm trying to avoid getting political today. Too much anger. I do not need my anger. You surely do not.
Later Tater Beans (triumphant!),
Aunt Beast
2:22 p.m.