However, I did write 1,364 words on "Scene in the Museum (1896)" yesterday. Turns out there's a dream sequence midway through the piece, which at least introduces the fantasy of a nightmare, so it's not as free of the weird as I'd originally intended. Maybe next time. I hope to finish the story today.
It's hot again. Well, it never stopped being hot. But now it's HOT again. Still, when I hear the heat index in New Orleans yesterday was 119F (global warming is a myth, remember), I feel silly for mentioning it.
I'm trying to think if there was anything else "bloggable" about yesterday? Spooky fed me cool foods for dinner. I'm trying not to lose any more weight. Cold roast chicken, guacamole, a good hot salsa, feta, fresh tomatoes and cucumber, Sol beer. We finished revisiting the Matrix trilogy with The Matrix: Revolutions. Again, much more impressed than I was the first time through. I think the three films should be watched as one film, which is what they actually are. Any film/s which has me rooting for the humans, for at least part of the time, has to be doing something right. Later, there was Second Life. I fear that Prof. Nishi's tale has grown far too complex to continue keeping her journal. Not with all the writing I do during the day, then the actual rping. Having to turn around and translate it all into prose, it's something I wanted to do, but not to the detriment of the experience itself. So, if you want to see the story unfold, bite the bullet and come inworld. Find her in New Babbage, and you might even find yourself a part of the story. Oh, and the cephalopod exhibit for the Charles Lyell Memorial Mezzanine of the Palaeozoic Museum is coming along nicely. I find myself, more and more, thinking of myself as an inhabitant of New Babbage and of that avatar. After the past two and a half months, I admit that I sometimes look in the mirror and expect to see Nareth E. Nishi's face there, a face which is not only fairer but which also seems truer, as well, than this biological face. This is that whole goddamned transhumanist thing I keep claiming I want no part of, isn't it? Well, the beginning.
"I fly the blown and torn around
I wear this part of your skin I found
I wanna face I can recognize
Keep the corneas and lose the flies..."
— The Prids, "Shadow and Shadow"