August 2nd, 2020


Pale Riders

I'm sitting here spacing out listening to the frogs and crickets and katydids outside my office window. Well, now it's sort of my office/prep lab window, so thank you for that, Covid-19.

Today I left the house for the first time in 15 days (two days shy of my breaking my record, I think). We walked around the grounds a few minutes. I saw bumblebees and honey bees and flowers and clouds. Inside, I rarely even look at a window.

And I wrote 1,106 words on a new novella, which is a good thing.

We're watching The Umbrella Academy, which I had avoided because of my powerful aversion to all things Gerard Way. And I'm liking it a lot. See? I am very often wrong.

And I am spending a lot of time in Second Life. Again.

I'm reading Hunter S. Thompson's A Strange and Terrible Saga: Hell's Angels and re-reading William Burroughs' Naked Lunch – at the same time.

That gets us partway caught up. Oh, there's likely stuff that happened I'll never go back and recount. Lost stuff. The plague is doing that to us. Or at least to me. I am losing bits and pieces here and there, and I just have to accept that.

Spooky and I have been given permission to auction one copy of the ARCs (advanced reading copies) of the forthcoming second Dancy Flammarion collection, Comes a Pale Rider (see below, with me and my quarantine hair). That's gonna happen very soon, as soon as she has time to get it up on eBay.

Later Taters,
Aunt Beast

11:29 p.m.