coldI've just received Sonya's story for Sirenia Digest #14, so I'm thinking this issue will likely go out to subscribers late tomorrow or sometime on Sunday. As soon as I can make it happen. Also, I will repeat the offer I made yesterday — anyone who subscribes this week, before midnight on Sunday, shall receive a FREE signed copy of the trade paperback of Silk.
I was trying to think of something I wanted to say about Daughter of Hounds, but at best I am only half awake. I am beginning to think this will be the January I slept through. With luck, something akin to wakefulness will return by February. Note, however, that while I do believe in chance and probability, I do not believe in luck.
Aside from the writing, there's little to be said for yesterday. I left the house, technically, in that I went out onto the front porch to get the mail and found an empty mailbox. Spooky had beaten me to it. That was my first time out since Monday. Spooky made fettuccine with pesto and artichoke hearts for dinner. Late, we watched the first forty-five minutes or so of The Return of the King (extended version), because I needed something comforting. That was most of yesterday.
I have this disquieting sensation that I am somehow slipping off the face of the world.
There were other things I was going to write about — lucid dreaming, magick, parsimony, my rational mind — but I'm about an hour late, and I'm having trouble concentrating on this entry. Maybe later today. Right now, the platypus wishes to have a word with me. A word or 1,500+.
