Seven hours sleep last night, so I can thank the Ambien for that. But, on the other hand, it seems to have ceased to ease my transition from the dreams to wakefulness and seems, also, to no longer be helping me to quickly forget the dreams. So, this morning, which is actually fucking afternoon already, I am dreamsick and angry and disoriented.

Only 505 words written on The Dinosaurs of Mars yesterday. But I needed time to think. Sometimes writers have to do that. It's not all word counts and crumpets, you know. There's little or nothing else to say for yesterday. It came and went, as days do. I have one bit of news, one bit I'm pleased with, but I can't make that announcement just yet. Maybe by Monday. A decent enough walk late yesterday. The sky was full of swallows. Later on, another episode of Deadwood. But that's about it.