Yesterday, I wrote 2,507 words on Black Helicopters. I'm relieved to be writing solid, substantial, dense text again. Joyously, unashamedly tough text. Prose that makes both me and the reader work. Blood Oranges is quite enjoyable, but after two novel's worth of putting "story" before all other concerns, it's nice to be back doing the sort of writing where every syllable of every word of every sentence was chosen with great care, and where "meaning" can be as complex and slippery as I desire. Also, I'm starting to think that I'll be keeping Black Helicopters as the title.
Anything else? Not really. Not at the moment. Things are very quiet around here, and after the past year, I believe I may actually be glad for the quiet.
It would be hard to imagine a more dismal day than the one we are having here in Providence, there outside my window.
I am deeply in love with How To Destroy Angels' "Ice Age." It's the nearest anyone has come to capturing all of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir in a single (and very simple) song.
* "Meanwhile in Mexico, where the ancient Mayan civilisation flourished, the end time has been seen as an opportunity. The country has organised hundreds of Maya-themed events, and tourism is expected to have doubled this year." ~ The Telegraph