The weather's back to plain old slightly cold and shitty here in globally warming Providence. There might be some snow tonight and tomorrow. Or a blizzard. Or nothing at all.
Yesterday was hectic and only sporadically productive, I spent much of it working on the Facebook page for Alabaster. If you're on Facebook, please go now and "like" the page. Yeah, that might be stupid, but it's also important. Right now, we have about 155 people; I hope to reach 1,000 by Sunday (likely, we won't come close). The page was actually set up by Dark Horse two months back, but no one told me it was live. I found it by accident yesterday. Now, I'm trying to make it work for the book. Which I want to have a chance.
Also, yesterday, I wrote the prolegomenon for Sirenia Digest #85 and found some artwork for it. The issue includes not only my new story "Blind Fish," but a story from 2002 that has never been reprinted anywhere, my Holmes/Lovecraft/Dracula tale, "The Drowned Geologist (1898)." The issue should go out this evening or tomorrow afternoon. There was a conversation with my agent late in the day. And my box of contributors copies for Blood Oranges arrived (unexpectedly). I have photographic evidence (yes, those are weenie tongs, and I cannot explain why my right arm looks so gross). I think my expression is appropriately bemused:
Um, other stuff? Last night, we watched Danny Boyle's Sunshine (2007) for the first time since the spring of '09. It remains a brilliant, beautiful film, criminally underrated. I finished the fifth and final volume of The Bloom County Library. This strip so perfectly parallels my twenties, and, appropriately, the last strip falls less than a month before that Age of Me came crashing down, boom, broken glass, twisted steel girders, thanks to the horrific and hateful (words that are not half strong enough) betrayal of "friends" after I came out. I should name them. I honestly fucking ought to, after all these years. Maybe one day I will find that courage. My revenge has been survival and this scrap of celebrity. Anyway, I also began the next volume of the library, which contains all the Opus strips, most of which I've never read.
Wow. That paragraph got unexpectedly angry and grim. Refer back to the ridiculous photo above, and all will be better again. Illusion of whimsy restored.