June 8th, 2006


Just something.

It's not unusual for me to get e-mail from readers which begins with something like "I know you're too busy to read this" or "I'm sure you have better things to do..." & etc. I just wanted to say, honestly, that if I were too busy for e-mail from readers, I wouldn't have that "email Caitlín" thingy on the website, nor would I post my e-mail address in the Blog/LJ. You don't have to begin your e-mails that way. If you e-mail me, I do not promise I'll reply, but I do promise that I'll take the time to read what you took the time to write. Really. I appreciate those e-mails very, very much. They remind me that what I'm writing is being read by conscious entities (I mean besides myself and Spooky and all my alter egos). And I like that, most of the time. Okay. That's all. I've said my say. Move along...

I can't find my damn glasses.

Nothing like a very, very long dream in which I watch, among other things, Manhattan consumed in a roiling thermonuclear fireball to get me ready for the day ahead. Nothing in the whole wide world like waking up from apocalypse.

Yeah, well. Anyway...

Yesterday was sort of a mess. I did the Blog/LJ entry, then sat here, and sat here, and sat here, staring at the screen and the window and the books on the shelves, trying to find whatever it is that I'm going to write next. The next vignette for Sirenia Digest or the short story I hope to have time to write during the second half of June, before the arrival of the Daughter of Hounds CEM. At 3:00, I was still sitting here, still staring, and not one word had been written. So I wandered over to Wikipedia and spent the next four hours writing an article on the new dwarf macronarian sauropod, Europasaurus holgeri. Thanks to corucia, I had the article from Nature, so I could at least do a thorough job of it. But...

Well, it wasn't work. Never mind that distilling a three-page technical paper is considerably more difficult than my usual sort of writing, and never mind that I was at it nonstop until after seven. Because no one's paying me to write Wikipedia articles on dinosaurs. And if no one's paying me, I just can't seem to convince myself that it's work. And if it's not work, then, my conscience reminds me, it's really just goofing off. I believe in Wikipedia. I truly do. If I do say so myself, you will find no news article online annoucing the discovery of Europasaurus which is even half so informative and accurate as the piece I wrote yesterday. Once upon a time, layreaders and even avocational paleontologists and science nerds might have had to wait weeks or months to get detailed information on new taxa. Wikipedia is one of those things that redeems the white-noise chaos of the internet. It's a good thing to devote one's time to. It has the potential to make this ignorant world a little less so. But it's still not work. I find no end of irony in the fact that I would now feel far less guilty about not having written salable prose yesterday had I wasted the whole afternoon sitting here staring at the screen of my iBook and the tree outside my window and the books on the shelves instead of doing the useful and worthwhile thing which I did instead. Because one thing is "work" and one thing isn't.

Tiddley frelling pom.

Spooky made delicious vegetarian Indian food for dinner, and then we managed to get in a decent walk at twilight. No bats, and not many lightning bugs. And then we read and read and read, because I needed to fill my head with words. And then I did some editing on the aforementioned Europasaurus article and added two images. By then it was long after midnight, and I lay on the sofa and watched the middle part of Jackson's King Kong, all the Skull Island stuff, because having filled my head with words, I needed to fill my eyes with something lush, and that primordial "green hell" was just exactly what I craved. Kong and giant insects and all those marvelous neverwere dinosaurs, Vastatosaurus and Ferrucutus and Venatosaurus and those grand retro sauropods — "Brontosaurus," he calls them. Oh, and also Foetodon and the skin-birds. But I digress. I'm very, very good at digressing, especially when I'm only half awake and the nightmares still seem more real that the daylight on the floorboards.

Roger Ebert loved The Proposition as much as I did. He seems hit or miss to me these days, but this time I think he's spot on. I would have said a lot of what he said, if I were any good at writing movie reviews. And here's the official website for the film again.

By the way, Spooky has a birthday coming up on the 24th, two weeks from tomorrow, and she also has a wishlist. You know, for kids.

I suppose I'm duty bound to mention that the Senate killed President Asshole's latest attempt to write bigotry into the Constitution. I mean, since I brought it up the other day. I love this quote from Senator Sam Brownback, regarding the GOP's intention to keep pushing for a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage — "We're making progress, and we're not going to stop until marriage between a man and a woman is protected...protected in the courts, protected in the Constitution, but most of all, protected for the people and for the future of our children in this society." Er...excuse me, but protected from what? No, really. Do these hysterical bigots actually believe, in their heart of hearts, that gays and lesbians could somehow make a bigger farce of the "sacred instuition" of marriage than heterosexuals have already managed to do? Do they think, perhaps, that legal marriages between gays will so repulse poor, unprotected heterosexual couples that they all decide to live in sin, rather than risk being mistaken for queers by getting married? I just can't figure it out.

And right now, I'd rather not try. Coffee, please and thank you...