Today we do chapters Three and Four of Murder of Angels. And tonight I may try to work on the long overdue third chapter of The Girl Who Sold the World. I haven't written anything since I finished "Faces in Revolving Souls" last week , and I'm getting antsy. Isn't that to die for? I bitch and bitch and bitch about how much I wish I never had to write so much as another single, frelling word as long as I live, and then a few days without writing leaves me eager to get back to it again.
The air is filled with pollen, and Atlanta had an orange ozone alert the last two days. My allergies are on the warpath.
In seventeen days (counting today), I turn -0. I keep thinking that I should find code for a sort of clock to put at the top of my website, counting off the seconds to 12:00 a.m. May 26th. It's a shame Amazon doesn't carry liquor (they carry everything else); I'd add a few bottles of something extraordinarily strong to my wishlist.
Caught the trailer for the new Catwoman movie yesterday. As much as I appreciate Halle Berry, this one looks like something to avoid. It reminded me of those awful '70s made-for-television superhero movies. Why couldn't DC (or whoever) have followed up on what it started in Batman Returns? But the trailer for the remake of The Stepford Wives looks priceless. I suspect it will rock.