The "pay the taxes" eBay auction (Round One). Please bid if you are able, interested, and have not. And six words, kittens. "The Worm in my Mind's Eye." This is super rare. The sort of rare I hate even to part with. But I am. And it's feeling lonely, a paper wallflower, what with the other three dancing with their bids. Be kind. Give a maladjusted chapbook a home.*
M. l'insomnie. came to call last night, and he kept me up well past five ayem. I finally fell asleep watching Howard Hawks' His Girl Friday (1940) on the iPad, after taking two extra Valium. Damn, I love that film, though not as much as Bringing Up Baby (1938) or Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) or, most especially, not as much as The Philadelphia Story (1940). And, before anyone asks the question with the obvious sort of answer, those four films sit together in my mind because they are Cary Grant at his finest. Selwyn climbed into bed and sat with me for ten or fifteen minutes, fascinated by the film. Then he lost interest and wandered away.
Yesterday, I wrote a fairly impressive 1,843 words on "Our Lady of the Tharsis Montes." The day before, I did a respectable 1,288 words. By the way, if you're one of those people (whom I adore) who likes my sf, and you don't already have a subscription to Sirenia Digest, now would be a good time. This has turned into quite a lengthy tale.
Oh, and speaking of my sf, this is cool: It seems that Nick Mamatas and I have taken a good hard thwack at steampunk. Well, it had it coming, did steampunk. A good hard thwack, right atop its scabby little nostalgic, zeppelins and bustles, let's all ignore the consequences of our actions noggin. No, really. Listen. I was already proud of "Goggles (c. 1910)" – which I almost titled "The Last Steampunk Story") – but now I'm even more so. Oh, but first the podcast talks about a bunch of other interesting stuff. Listen to that, too.
There's other things I want to write about, but I need to stop and try to find something like awake. Too many words to write, Too many weeks behind schedule. "Oh, you your own boss? That's must be so cool!" No, no really. Try it some time. Though, if, like me, you're a masochist, it probably works out just fine.
The Stone About Your Neck,
* Thank you.