• Location: Andünié
• Mood: hot and strange
• Music: The Decemberists, "The Mariner's Revenge" (pirate music!)

More stuff (so it must be Thursday).

This morning, the sun is very, very bright. No, really. Brighter than it ought to be. Maybe we're due an unexpected, premature supernova. Or maybe it's only that I have a slight hangover. Either way, I shouldn't have opened the frelling office curtains. Spooky just came back from the post office and I asked her if it looked like supernova weather out there. But she told me to shut the hell up, which happens more than you might think. "Fine," she said, seeing what I'd typed. "Go ahead. Make me out to be an evil bitch." Anyway, she didn't return empty handed. She brought me a very large envelope from Paul Riddell, filled with all manner of cool dren, including copies of Discover Texas Dinosaurs and Dinosaurs of Australia and New Zealand, for which I am very grateful, along with an assortment of take-out menus, stickers, postcards, a Burgess Shale Community day bookmark thingy, a nifty pair of 3-D specs for a special 3-D ep of Medium (a nice sentiment, but people with one eye can't use these), and assorted fliers. I <3 packages like this.

I think I'll be a pirate today. Arrrr! Yeah, that feels good. What did you do on Supernova Day? Oh, I was a pirate. Arrrrr!

And continuing the jaunty nautical theme, here's a photo that Jada sent me yesterday to prove she'd gone snorkeling. I can't remember where it was taken. The Virgin Islands or somewhere like that.



This is just sort of going around in circles, isn't it? I suppose I should blame the liquor, but I'd rather blame the damage the increased solar output (supernova, remember?) is doing to my frontal lobe. The tar-paper shingles on the roof next door have begun to melt, and a flaming squirrel just tumbled over the edge, screaming some shit about the end of the world. I hate that chittery squirrel accent. Like Bubbles, I can understand Squirrelish. Unlike Bubbles, that's my only superpower.

When I threw out the litter box yesterday, I also (finally) threw out the latex catsuit I bought in NYC back in May '98. It was Christa's fault. She forced me to spend $500 on the thing, back in the days when I was writing for Vertigo and had more money than sense. I wore it at the NYC book-release party for Silk and then again at Convergence V in New Orleans in '99. But the years took their toll upon it, as years are wont to do with ultra-thin latex garments in hot and humid climates. It was no longer even remotely wearable. I did keep a small swatch, just because I have so much trouble throwing dren out. There are still photos of me wearing said catsuit up somewhere on the old website, but I'll be frelled if I can find the URL.

Whoops. There went another flaming squirrel. Damn.

I think I'm going to go away and come back later, because we both know that I'm not making a lot of sense. Of course, if the Earth is suddenly consumed in a fireball of superheated plasma, I'm off the hook. Meanwhile, check out our new eBay auctions. We're only selling a few copies of The Dry Salvages trade at that reduced price, so you might want to act now. Before the sun explodes. But, yeah, please have a look at the auctions. Please. Thank you.