So, I feel like shit. Early this afternoon, I have to go in to my doctor for blood tests. And I had to fast first. Most largish mammals are meant to eat fairly frequently, so it's obviously not going well. You know, once in – I think – 1997, I went three days without eating, and only drinking water, by choice. Don't ask me why.

Outside, it's cloudy, hot, humid. A dog's barking, and some idiot's shooting off firecrackers. The birds are making those sounds that birds make.

Since I finished the rewrite on Alabaster: Wolves #5, and then tried to begin "Love is Forbidden, We Croak and Howl," and that was – what? – that was the 24th. Since the 24th, I've pretty much not been writing. There was a spate of work-related drama, there was the birthday, and...other stuff. Also, I believe a sorts of unconscious revolt took hold. A sort of dead man's switch or safety valve, I suppose. The latter sounds less grim. Oh, I've had to attend to all sort of the busyness of writing, but there's been no actual writing (id est, the Creation of New Text). Tomorrow, that has to end, whether my weary unconscious likes it or not. I have to get Sirenia Digest #78 written and out to subscribers. I have to begin editing Blood Oranges. I still have the editorial notes on Alabaster: Wolves #5 to attend to, and...I'm sure, in my calorie-deficient state, I'm forgetting stuff.

Yesterday, we saw Men In Black III. It was a lot of fun. It was much, much better than Men in Black II, though probably not as good as the first film. But, yeah. Fun. You should see it. Also, I finally saw the trailer for Prometheus on a big screen.

And we got the new Sigur Rós CD, Valtari, which is beautiful.

I feel woozy, and I'm going to either brush my teeth or lie down. No yet sure which.