Over breakfast, Spooky informed me that one of her friends who was at Pride last night – Pride, the Godhead of Hangovers – was rudely awakened this morning because "...the maintenance guy was blasting some rap version of the oompa loompa song." I almost choked to death. I mean, what the fuck? I didn't know either of us had any friends in Providence. Anyway, me, I'm a total loser and stayed home. I celebrated Pride by digging out my freedom rings the ones I got in 1992, and wearing them while..well...doing nerdy shit. I'm pretty sure celebrating Pride in the marginal safety of one's own home defeats the purpose.
Yesterday, I began a new piece, which will appear in Sirenia Digest #79, titled "Quiet Houses." I began with a single sentence: "The forest is full of wolves." No forethought whatsoever where it might lead me. Just that one sentence. To quote Ray Bradbury on writing: "Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. Build your wings on the way down." I hardly no any other way to do it, though, yesterday was an unusually high cliff. I wrote 1,016 words.
Meanwhile, Kathryn was working on the more minor line edits to the typescript of Blood Oranges. Indeed, she worked on it from about 3 p.m. until about midnight. Nine motherfucking hours of tedium. But she finished it. And as soon as I am done with "Quiet Houses," I'll tackle the more complicated edits. It would be very good to get this to my editor on Tuesday, as she expects it on Monday. Yeah, well.. I expect a pretty, pretty pony, a herd of Kentucky fainting goats, and sex with Natalie Portman, but I don't see myself getting either.
And, while we are on the subject of Blood Oranges, yes, Amazon is already taking pre-orders. Which I say is utter bullshit, and I expect no one to order this soon. I haven't even handed in the edited typescript. Anyway, now we know the release date will be February 5, 2013. No, I didn't know that until it showed up on Amazon. I was guessing April 2013.
Have I mentioned Spooky's birthday on the 24th, and her wish list. You know, kittens, without her, you wouldn't get a single story or novel from me, right?
This morning, the Lamictal dose was upped to 350 milligrams/day.
Oh, and typos be damned.
The Impossible is Possible,