• Location: The Prancing Pony
• Mood: lower
• Music: Annie Lennox, "Into the West"

Words mean nothing.

Clarification: I was not meaning to imply, yesterday, that one should never, ever, in any instance, paint a house pink. Or that all houses should be painted drab earthtones. I have seen, in my lifetime, any number of perfectly tasteful pink houses. However, that house on North Avenue, the one I posted photos of, is not a tasteful pink house. In truth, I've grown rather fond of pink. For example, my leather iPod case is a pale shade of pink. Pink has its place, especially when paired with black and/or grey. However, I do believe that houses should be integrated into the environment which they occupy. They should not dominate that environment. And they should not make my eyes hurt or induce nausea. I know that many Victorians painted their houses perfectly hideous colours. To some degree, as John Fowles pointed out, they can, perhaps, be forgiven their infatuation with garish colours. Aniline dyes were new, and people were a little giddy. The ability to dye clothing and paint houses such hideous colors was a novelty. However, the house in question was not built a hundred and fifty years ago. It was built last year. And now it's ugly.

It can't be good that I began June with a Lost Day. I had every intention of taking up the job of finishing "The Black Alphabet" with the letter T and making it at least as far as V. But my mood was too weighted by the morning's dreamsickness. It's one thing to write polymorphously perverse erotica, and it's quite another to try to do it in a mood like that. I sat here until three p.m., staring at the letter T, trying to start. And then I gave up. Because discretion is the better part of valour. So, I got dressed, and we spent the remainder of the afternoon at the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. I stepped into the atrium just in time to see some guy dusting the head of the Gigonotosaurus (photos below). We walked through the chocolate exhibit, undoubtedly the least interesting traveling exhibit that Fernbank has hosted since I started visiting regularly in 2004. At five, we caught Amazon in the IMax, which was beautiful and breathtaking.



No excuse for a dusty dinosaur.

And I'm wondering if he's a volunteer.

A black-light eurypterid. Another thing you don't see everyday.

Hello. Go away.

After the museum, we had an early dinner from the salad bar at Whole Foods. Back home, I finally saw The Whole Wide World (1996). It only took me ten years. And Jada giving us a one-year membership to Netflix for our birthdays. I loved the film. Vincent D'Onofrio was perfect. And this is the first time, I think, that I've seen Renée Zellweger that she hasn't annoyed me. She was superb. Which makes all that Bridget Jones nonsense later on even more inexcusable. Now, I want to track down a copy of Novalyne Price Ellis' memoirs, One Who Walked Alone, upon which the movie was based. After the film, we read Chapter 13 of The Triumph of the Moon ("The Wider Context: Hostility"), and I did more work with the Ogham. By the way, in answer to an e-mail yesterday, I do not use the Ogham or Tarot or scrying (or anything else) for divination, as I don't believe these systems are any more likely to permit divinatory revelations than a halfway educated guess. Less, actually. I use these tools purely for purposes of introspection and meditation. Oh, and I re-read the first few pages of The Silmarillion.

I wish I could say that I was in a better state of mind today than yesterday. But I'm not. The dreams were worse this morning, despite the Ambien CR which usually at least makes it almost impossible for me to remember them. So, I can't know how the writing will go today. I do know I haven't time for this foolishness.

Here's something cool. I shall consider it my silver lining. S. T. Joshi has chosen "In the Water Works (Birmingham, Alabama 1888)" for American Supernatural Tales, to be released by Penguin at Halloween 2007 (or thereabouts). I admit I'm very proud of this one. It might even make up for the way that "Bradbury Weather" was generally ignored last year. Joshi kindly allowed me to do a bit of a rewrite on the story, fixing a lot of grammatical errors and a few other problems. So, yes, very drad.

It's only 12:32. Anything could happen...