March 27th, 2010

Shaw

flim flam

Dear Caitlín R. Kiernan,

My name is Albert Hong a legal practitioner with A. Hong & partners in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

I found your contact/profile some where over the Internet and it gave me the greatest joy, that you are the one I have been looking for. Whom I strongly believe could execute this transaction with me. And being more positive that with your capability, that this transaction of transferring US$19,628,000.00 will be successfully accomplished.

My purpose of contacting you is for you to help secure the funds left behind by my late client, to avoid it being confiscated or declared unserviceable by the Finance House. Where this fund valued (US$19,628,000.00) Nineteen Million, six hundred and twenty eight thousand United State Dollars deposited by my client before his death in November 2004.

You might be wondering why am i communicating with you, believe it or not it is simply because you and my late client have the same surname. Though this is coincidental, I strongly believe, you could help me in the task which is the distribution of my late client's funds.

And the said funds in the Finance House is considered "UNSERVICEABLE" after my client passed away as there were no indication of next of kin whatsoever that the Institution could consider as a beneficiary for the said funds.

Being my late client's legal adviser, the Institution notified my office, that I need to produce and to contact the next of kin of my deceased client, to either "REACTIVATE" the account or to "MAKE CLAIMS" of the said funds which is carrying a monthly surcharge.

Now, my intention is purely to seek your consent to kindly present you as the legal next of kin/beneficiary to my late client's funds. This would mean that the proceeds of the said funds would be released to you. After the release of the funds to you, we shall then share it mutual, which will be 70% to me and 30% to you.

My office would provide documents to back up your claim. The most important thing I need is your honest/sincere cooperation in this task. And I assure you that this transaction will be legally executed according to the dictates of the law, which will protect you from any infraction of the law.

However, if this business proposition offends your moral ethics, do accept my sincere apology. If on the contrary you wish to achieve this goal with me, kindly get back to me with your interest immediately for further details via this e-mail: (alb.hong002@gmail.com)

Best regards,
Mr. Albert Hong (Esq.)
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Eli2

"No one understands, the way you found your god..."

We are being made to suffer for the brief hint of spring we had last week. Okay, no. I do not engage in that sort of magical thinking (or any other sort, if I can help it), but it seems that way. As I wrote my blog entry yesterday, the temperature here in Providence was 34F, with a windchill at 24F, thanks to a 21 mph wind. As I write this one, it's once again 34F out there, though the windchill is only 27F. That is a sarcastic "only," in case you're wondering.

No actual writing yesterday. I sat here for hours, searching for a story, after discovering the story I'd thought I was going to write after "Houndwife" isn't yet ready to be written. I dusted two bookshelves in my office. That took half an hour. I stared at the screen some more. I reread portions of Michael E. Bell's Food for the Dead (2001), and might have found an idea, which is currently known only as "Untitled 37." I read about sauropods. I made notes. I stared out the window at a late March that looks like early February. I made more notes. I reread Angela Carter's "Peter and the Wolf" (1982). I gazed forlornly at the screen of the iMac. I did a little straightening up in the kitchen. I fretted about my lousy, rotten feet, and my bad teeth, and not having health insurance, and getting old, and all the grey hair. I drank pomegranate-flavored limeade. I drank lime-flavored ice tea. I made a late lunch of a can of Progresso soup and Saltines and Izze ginger ale. I shelved books that needed shelving. I closed the curtain in my office so I couldn't see the cold blue sky. It was that sort of writing day.

And, at some point, I thought, I ask absurd things of myself. Finish one story on Thursday, begin another on Friday.

Spooky, on the other hand, had a productive day. She's working on a March Hare and sort of cameo thing, both for her Dreaming Squid Dollworks Shop on Etsy.

Oh, a good day to preorder The Ammonite Violin & Others, if you've not already done so. Thanks. It's a simple enough equation: if these books don't sell, there likely will not be future books. It's the vicious maxim by which all working authors live.

Early last night, just after dinner (leftover meatloaf), I had the worst seizure I've had since at least January. It caught us both by surprise, as the seizures have become infrequent. It left me feeling empty and wasted, but no real harm done. Spooky was there to catch me. I lay on the bed for an hour or so, trying to watch the new episode of Spartacus: Blood and Sand, but my head was very full of a fog that only began to lift later in the evening.

I was unable to sleep until sometime after four ayem, and then only with the help of Ambien (first dose in eight nights).

Oh, there are gratuitous photographs of Hubero:

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