May 19th, 2006

mirror2

Wrong is Right. Day is Night.

"Carbon dioxide... we call it life," TV ads say.

My thanks to mistressmousey for pointing me towards this one. Timed to coincide with the May 24th release of An Inconvenient Truth, a series of television ads hailing the proliferation of CO2 as a good thing.

Speaking here in my official capacity as Head Priestess of the Immaculate Order of the Falling Sky, as well as an avowed parahuman, I can only ask why you people are allowing these idiots to make the rest of you look even worse than you already do? Isn't there some point in this civilization where selfish, malevolent stupidity becomes punishable by death? I mean, before the big rock has to fall from the sky? The big rock, you see, is not unlike global warming and hurricanes and droughts. It doesn't distinguish between those who know better and those who don't. Yet, while the big rock is inevitable, given a long enough timescale...well, you should be able to figure out the rest.

Meanwhile, I found this somewhat amusing (misspelling and all):

Your Stress Level is: 81%

Wow! Not only are you extremely prone to stress, you're a total ball of stress these days.
And while times are certainly tough right now, being stressed out is not making it easier.
Your stress is effecting your relationships, career, and most importantly, you health.
chi (in all her fears)

Another Day on Earp.

Because I ego-surf (and surely no one else still uses that term, ego-surf), I happened across this quote on LJ a few minutes ago, regarding my writing: "all i know is that there's something almost like 'all's lost and we still live through this shit' about her style." And, setting aside issues of grammar and word choice, I thought, frell, that's bloody frelling brilliant. I could not have said it better myself. Yes. Exactly. All's lost, and we still live through this shit. The author claims not to have read much of my work and to be rather indifferent about what she/he/it has read. But at least she/he/it understands. This gives me a warm feeling somewhere unmentionable.

Yesterday was another LD. No, I don't know why. Maybe it's exhaustion from editing Daughter of Hounds. Maybe it's any one of a thousand other things. All I can say is that I'm trying. It's even harder to write erotica when I'm not in the mood to write than it is to do my usual sort of writing when I'm not in the mood...to write. Yesterday, I mostly sat at the desk, looking for a story, for some bit of arousal, for anything that would get me moving again. Spooky and I had a walk in Freedom Park, which was uneventful. The postman brought only bills and adverts. I ate nothing all day until about 4:30 p.m., when I had a Red Bull and two Reese cups. I made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning my office. At least Sophie was feeling better (click here to see a cat who feels better and wants a damn sandwich). So, yeah. That was yesterday. Oh, I did receive a contract and cheque from Steve Jones, who's reprinting "La Peau Verte" in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror (Vol. 17), and money's always nice, even if there's never enough of it.

According to the subpress website, the extra 100 copies of the Alabaster lettered that were added to the print run are halfway to being sold-out. Only 50 copies remain. So, if you want a copy of the lettered, which comes with the "Highway 97" Dancy chapbook, you probably shouldn't wait too much longer to order.

Speaking of sold-out, we have tickets for the Imogen Heap/Zoe Keating show at the Variety Playhouse tonight. I only wish I were in the mood or had done enough work the past two days to feel that I deserve a show.

Meanwhile, the more educated about the roots of Wicca and modern Neo-Pagan witchcraft I become, the less it seems I shall ever truly be a part of it.

There was a spectacularly bizarre dream this morning, which I may write about later today.