But, yes. We got summer. Hard. Presently 91˚F. Oh, wait. Before I go any farther, here's the MTV Geek interview I gave on Tuesday. It came out very well. I think I'm getting better at talking about Dancy. It also helps that I stopped indiscriminately saying yes to interviews back in early March (I think). But yes, for the record, repeat after me – 1) Angels are scary-ass fuckers. 2) Alabaster: Wolves is not set in a post-apocalyptic landscape (at least not on a large-scale).
Yesterday, the tedium....okay. Let's not describe the tedium. It was tedious, so what more needs to be said? But, when it was done, I was able to send the typescript...okay, wait. No, there was no goddamn typescript of Blood Oranges. There was a digital file in Courier masquerading as a typescript. And I emailed that to my editor, which means all those little zeros and ones had to first go to outer space or something, to an LEO satellite all geostationary and shit or what have you, then back down, blah, blah, blah. I was, no lie, sitting here yesterday wondering if we could get to the post office before it closed, or if the digital facsimilé of a "typescript" would have to wait until today to head for Manhattan. You know, in a truck. Or on a train. Or a plane. Then I remembered that none of this shit is real, and I emailed the file to my editor at Penguin. Because it's the Future! Zoom! There was an amusing bit when neither me nor her could recall if I gave Siobhan Quinn's hair color, and Spooky had to tell us it was blonde. I am smart cookie!
Today, it is my goal to begin Chapter One of Fay Gimmer. I might even make a mad dash to finish the first two chapters before July first! Whee! That's five days per chapter! On my head, I tell you! While eating cheesecake! No, I have no idea where this stuff is coming from. My butt? Oh, wait. There's another interview today. Have you bought Alabaster: Wolves #3? Well, if not, and unless you tried and it was sold out (which is happening everywhere, kittens), go do it. Now. You can read this later.
Also, please order Confessions of a FIve-Chambered Heart! All the cool kittens are doing it.
When work was done, we fled the city. And got stuck in traffic. But, eventually, we reached Beavertail, which was awash in rabbits, red-winged black birds, groundhogs, and gulls. And blessedly few tourons. We found a wonderfully cold, wide cove on the west side of the Point. The tide was coming in, and we climbed down the steeply tilted beds of Paleozoic phyllite to icy water the color of mermaids' tears. It's a cove where, at low tide, we love to beach comb, but at high tide only a narrow rind is exposed.
As Narragansett Bay flooded in, in and out, out and in, I swam down to deep green places, floating above a carpet of cobbles, baby crabs, and broken lobster pots. I parted schools of fish (or, more likely, they parted for the huge, intrusive mammal), and slipped between what felt like canyons of stone and seaweed (sea lettuce, Irish moss, kelp, rockweed, knotted wrack, coralline algae, brown pompoms, plus various sorts of sponges). A cormorant darted about not far from me. Shafts of sunlight slipped down between the drifting branches. I did somersaults and marveled at the silver rings of my own air bubbles. The deepest parts of the cove are, I think, about 12-15', though I did swim just a little farther out. There were marvelous overhanging shelves of phyllite down near the bottom (where my aching ear drums reminded me I shouldn't have neglected to buy ear plugs).
I entirely forgot I'd only slept about two and a half hours.
In the shallows, I came across an enormous horseshoe crab, a good foot across the carapace. At first, I thought it might be a ray or skate of some sort. I carefully touched its back with one finger and realized it wasn't a fish. Which, of course, startled it. Before I could point it out to Spooky, it had scuttled away into deeper waters. Finally, though, the sun began to set, and I hauled myself from the sea (cutting my leg slightly on a patch of acorn barnacles). Why did it take me so damn long, after moving to Rhode Island, to buy a damn diving mask? Dumb Aunt Beast. Anyway, now I have resolved that there will be an underwater digital camera before summer's end (The Future!), because the photos behind the cut are okay. But they show nothing of the beauty I saw below the surface. Oh, water temperatures yesterday at Beavertail were ~63˚F-65˚F.
Oh, wait. Here's five ayem yesterday morning...view to the southwest.
The landward end of the cove. View to the northeast.
Me, spying on the fishes.
And I realize Spooky's taking my picture. The water here, by the rocks, is only five or six feet deep. And everyone looks like a dork in those masks. So don't start.
Swimming across deeper water to a rocky pinnacle. View to the north. Yes, I have blue flippers. Increasing surface area available for hydrodynamic propulsion and all.
Having climbed out onto yon rocky pinnacle, I prepare for a low dive (Spooky tried to get a picture of that, but only caught my butt going under, and it sort of looks like a photo of the Loch Ness Monster). Think those rocks look sharp? They are. Not the place to swim nude. View to the north.
Spooky got this shot, just around the corner from the cove. View to the southwest.
Driving back across across the Jamestown Bridge, going home.
The Plum Beach Lighthouse in Narragansett bay. View to the north.
The longest day of 2012 draws to a close. You can see Fox Island near the center of the photo.
All photographs Copyright © 2012 by Kathryn A. Pollnac and Caitlín R. Kiernan