We left the Museum just before five (closing time), and headed back to the van to find a parking place nearer the restaurant (we were parked on Wendell Street for the MCZ). We found a spot on Holyoke Street (not easy, because the place was crawling in people, despite the crappy weather). And that's when I had the first seizure I've had in more than a month, and the worst one I've had in several months. And, before it was over, I'd smacked my head hard on the plastic seat-belt hanger thing. Which was the end of the second attempt at the Boston birthday gathering. Spooky called everyone she could get on the phone and canceled dinner. And I'm drawing this stupid, sorry tale out more than I'd meant to. We drove back to Providence, and I didn't go to the ER, because I couldn't possibly have afforded it. I went home and rested, fairly certain I probably didn't have a concussion, just a sore skull and a goose egg. And the usual post-seizure yuckiness.
And that was Saturday.
I spent most of yesterday in bed, still weak and recuperating. But I am a lousy convalescent, and I got bored about noon, and spent the next seven or eight hours editing "The Maltese Unicorn," and rewriting parts of it, and adding to it, and tweaking it, and whatnot. I finally stopped sometime after eight o'clock, and Spooky made me have some dinner.
Anyway. For now I'm taking it as easy as I can and still get the work done that needs doing. I'm seeing my doctor on Thursday. I'll be sending "The Maltese Unicorn" off to the anthology's editor today, after a very few last minute nips and tucks.
Oh, and the weather finally improved, which has helped my mood a bit.
Thanks to Bill Schafer at subpress for sending me the Publisher's Weekly review of The Ammonite Violin & Others. I'm very pleased with it:
The 20 short, dark tales in Kiernan's third fantastical erotica collection (after Tales from the Woeful Platypus*) are marked by obsessive, often self-destructive behavior; haunting, generally prophetic dreams; and beautiful prose. In the title story, an aging serial killer invites a young violinist to his isolated home on the anniversary of his murder of her cellist sister. In "The Hole with a Girl in Its Heart," an unhappy man makes a deal with a young woman who possesses a freakish understanding of quantum mechanics. In "Bridle," an equally unhappy woman begins to have unnerving dreams about a kelpie trapped in a small pond near her home. In "Ode to Edvard Munch," a man relates his long-term love affair with an urban vampire. These very adult stories will prove deeply pleasing to aficionados of literate, sexually tinged fantasy fiction.
So...that's three for three. Good reviews from Booklist, Library Journal, and Publisher's Weekly, for a book of very, very peculiar stories. Better hurry up and order if you want a copy.
And now, I need to lie down again for a bit. Spooky took these two photos yesterday of me editing from the sick bed:
Photographs Copyright © 2010 by Kathryn A. Pollnac
* Strictly speaking, this isn't true. The Ammonite Violin & Others isn't the planned third volume after Frog Toes and Tentacles and Tales from the Woeful Platypus, but a) it's starting to look as though I might never get around to doing that book, and b) there is a strong erotic element to this book, so I can see where confusion originated.