September 28th, 2006

mars

Jacova Angevine died for your sins.

Staying awake to chase a dream,
Tasting the air you're breathing in,
I know I won't forget a thing...
(Muse, "Falling Away With You")

I was just trying to count all the e-mails that Sonya (sovay) and I have exchanged while working on the collaboration. I've counted 90, but I have a feeling that there are more I've missed. The story is essentially done, almost 10,000 words, but it still has no title. Late last night, bleary and in need of bed, I suggested Sonya and Caitlín's Excellent Adventure, and she said only if she got to play chess with Death, which seems fair to me. Anyway, yeah, that's one of today's many tasks, finding the title.

Mostly, though, I'm going to be busy getting Sirenia Digest 10 out the door. I'm sorry, once again, that it's late. But I couldn't rush the collaboration. You will, I think, be pleased with what you see. If you've not subscribed, now would be a very good time to do so. This issue's going to be huge. Just follow the link above; supplies are limited.

Yesterday was another good writing day. I did 965 words and found THE END of "The Garden of Living Flowers." It's another bit of pretty boy pr0n, which means that, with "Untitled 17" already included, the book will have two such pieces. And I am now so near to being finished with Tales from the Woeful Platypus.

I received two new anthology invites yesterday, and I absolutely want to be in one of the books, but the deadline's in November and with my schedule already much too full, I've no idea how I'm going to pull off another short story. But I shall. Somehow.

This is a post of short paragraphs.

I've not left the house in two days now, not even to step out onto the front porch. That's a bad habit I'd pretty much broken myself of. There was a time, no so long ago, I'd go ten or eleven days without going out. No wish to return to that state of things. Spooky's making me take a walk as soon as I'm done with this entry. It's the writing, though. I get so immersed, so driven by the words, I just forget that there's this fabled place called Outside.

So much work yesterday, crazy work, by the time it was all done, about seven p.m., I was good for nothing but the sofa and television. No Only Revolutions last night. My brain would have boiled. Instead, I played an hour of Drakengard 2, and then we watched Project Runway 3. I was extremely pleased that it came down to a final four instead of three, that they'll all be going to Bryant Park. After PR, we watched Banlieue 13 (2004; released in US as District B13), directed by Pierre Morel and written by Luc Besson and Bibi Naceri. And as Big Dumb French Action Films go, it was really quite a lot of fun. Dany Verissimo might be my new girl crush (though Manah's still my gaming girl crush).

Okay. I think that's it for now. Must take walk. Must attend e-mails. Must finsih up Sirenia Digest. Must think of anouther vignette for the insatiable platypus. There was a spectacular dream this morning, but I made no notes, and it's faded down to mush. Some craziness during the Wars of the Roses, and I was some sort of double agent, playing the House of Lancaster against the House of York and vice versa. Red roses and white roses. Richard Plantagenet and a whole bunch of something atop the cliffs of Dover. I don't know where my brain gets this dren.
Mars from Earth

In an alternate worldline...

First, a quick update to say that Sirenia Digest 10 has gone away to Gordon (thingunderthest) for PDFing (good and frelling proper will he PDF it, too!). If all goes well, I believe Spooky's sending it out late this evening. If not, you'll get it early tomorrow. It came to a whopping 33 pages! Not too late to subscribe, you non-subscribed gardas and nixars. Not too late at all.

Sometimes, usually when we're hanging out with Byron and Jim, who are also survivors of Athens, Georgia, and usually when I've been mixing my Guinness and Bass, I start speculating how my life might have gone if I'd not left Death's Little Sister in February 1997. If I'd stayed in the band, taken the musician road instead of the writing road when Silk sold and The Dreaming wanted all my time and I had to make the choice. Most often, we imagine that the band would have survived a year or so, with one disastrous southeastern US tour, before interpersonal problems tore it asunder. Thereafter, sometime in 1998, about the time Silk was published, I'd have formed a second band, Crimson Stain Mystery. Also, by this time the booze and pills and heroin would have begun to take their toll upon my person. But still, CSM would get one indie/college radio hit before it imploded in late 2000. We would have made a video, directed by Athens' own James Herbert. There would have been a lurid three-week affair with (sorry about this) Marilyn Manson before the band, stuck in Japan and sick to death of my wicked ways, reluctantly abandoned me, split, and I ended up in rehab. By 2003, I'd have worked in a couple of Athens record shops before finally becoming a bartender at Lunch Paper and then The Manhattan. I'd still be struggling with the heroin problem, and every now and then I'd write a short story. I'd have a lot of tattoos. And these cassettes (behind the cut) might have existed (thank you Derek oneirophrenia, for the link):

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