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hide from the kiss and the bite

Yesterday, I wrote 1,613 words, meeting the demands of this final leg of the New Reconsolidated March. It should end very soon now — and once and for all — the March. By my reckoning, there are only eight short days to go, including today. I will not be back this way again. Lessons learned and all that. The less said about Friday the better. Some days go bad before their time, spoiling like a jar a mayonnaise left out in the sun.

Here it is the Chinese New Year, which means little to me, but it's written here in my engagement calendar. So congratulations and be prosperous. It is, I see, a year of the pig, a year of the fire pig, to be precise. I was born during a year of the wood dragon.

I'm thinking that Sirenia Digest #15 will not be quite so late going out as numbers 14 and 13 were. Vince has the story. Everything except the prolegomena has been written. Chinese New Year is always a good day to subscribe to Sirenia Digest.

I'm getting lots of reports, as LJ comments and via e-mail, of the arrival of Tales from the Woeful Platypus in mailboxes far and wide. To date, I've heard word of the book reaching readers clear around the globe — Japan, France, Switzerland, the UK.

After the writing yesterday, I got dressed and went to the market with Spooky to help forage for our dinner. Too many people, badly dressed & ill-mannered people, and too much fluorescence (no shadows, no shadows). The world does not need fifty brands of toilet paper or a hundred brands of sugary, artificially-flavoured breakfast cereal. We should have gone to Whole Foods, instead. At least the lighting is pleasant at Whole Foods. Maybe I'll be bold enough to leave the house again tomorrow. After dinner, I played Final Fantasy XII for the first time in days. Deep in the Great Crystal, at Dha Vikaari Jula, Fran, Penelo, and Balthier defeated Shemhazai the Whisperer. Then Ashe received the Treaty-Blade and all proceeded back to Balfonheim Port, where I finally bought better armour, as well as some spells. We read more of The Terror. Well, Spooky read and I listened. Chapters 32 through 39 (pages 421-501), which gets us to Lat. 69˚ 37' 42" N., Long. 98˚ 40' 58" W, on 25 April 1848. Then I watched The Return of the King, up to Pippin's song for Denethor and the sacrifice of Faramir, at which point I was finally sleepy enough for bed.

Platypus says that's enough blogging for any freezing February morning. The sun is so bright outside, you would think there would be warmth. There will be tomorrow. This horrible cold snap is almost at an end.

Comments

( 4 comments — Have your say! )
fanny_fanu
Feb. 18th, 2007 07:07 pm (UTC)
Receipt of the Woeful Platypus
I got mine here in Switzerland on Thursday. It's the red leather version and is a thing of beauty. I have been sniffing it. That sounds odd, but you know what I mean ... surely??
humglum
Feb. 18th, 2007 08:45 pm (UTC)
Re: Receipt of the Woeful Platypus


They smell sweet. Almost more like tobacco than leather. Or maybe leathery tobacco?
It's probably the mix of ink and leather and paper and adhesives.
unknownbinaries
Feb. 19th, 2007 04:37 pm (UTC)
Got my 'Platypus' on Friday, spent a while reading it at work, yesterdat.

There's really not much naughtier and more internally fun than reading something like that while waiting on uppity Emory old people in a quiet bookstore on a Sunday. I hope to be able to hunt down a copy of 'Frog Toes' that I can afford, soon.
sharonafyre
Feb. 20th, 2007 05:58 pm (UTC)
I read Threshold.

Wow.

I've never seen anyone undo death as well as you. It had all the qualities of a lucid dream, that it went back and came out differently. It was brilliant.

Without foreknowledge, I promptly picked up Low Red Moon. Imagine the glee! I had no idea!

Tonight I am going to suggest Daughter of Hounds to my book club.

You seriously rock.
( 4 comments — Have your say! )

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