Friday, I wrote. Saturday, I wrote. Yesterday, I wrote.
Oh, and on Saturday, my number of Facebook "friends" actually reached 2,500. I even took a photograph of the screen. This is how pathetic I am.
We did not go to the sea, despite the temperatures. The tourons kept us at bay, and likely will until after Readercon 23. The deep green tidal pools, swimming to the bottom, ten feet of icy water pressing down on me, crabs and lobsters scuttling across the rocky bottom. After Readercon. My labret is still healing, though Billy said it was okay to swim in the ocean while it heals, just not pools. I don't do chlorinated pools, anyway. Yuck. That's not even actually water. Anyway, I have an appointment on Thursday to have my first tattoo, and I hope it will be healed by the con. I'm having There's always a siren, Singing you to shipwreck tattooed on the inside of my left forearm, and that I can't swim with until it's healed. It will serve as my dermal warning to me from me, to beware the world and all its devices, and will also be one way I am commemorating The Drowning Girl: A Memoir.
This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin. ~ Stars
But no, mostly the tourons kept us at bay. The tourons, and the writing. The writing chains me to this room. Oh, hey, this is actually fucking cool:
Great White Shark Spotted 100 yards from Cape Cod Coast. Booya!
One of my lifelong goals has been to see great whites in the sea, by diving near the Farallon Islands, thirty miles off the coast of San Francisco. One of the last magnificent predators in the world, and the greatest remaining in the sea. One day.
Also, I'm reposting this from the 28th, because I think not many saw it (and likely won't now):
"I was told by my editor today that I can say that Dancy will continue, in some form, at Dark Horse after Alabaster: Wolves finishes in August. But I can't give out any details. Those will come, in time. Be patient, kittens."
Okay, platypus. I hear you.
High and Dry,