Here in Rhode Island, I know of no one who was able to see the Aurora Borealis light show last night. We had clouds, on and off. There was some passing talk of driving down to Spooky parents' place, where we'd hoped there might less clouds and far, far less light pollution. But the clouds hit South County, too. I've never yet in my life seen the Northern Lights. Someday, perhaps.
Here is an interesting article on the interesting results of a new study: Do e-Readers Inhibit Reading Comprehension? A quote:
...evidence from laboratory experiments, polls and consumer reports indicates that modern screens and e-readers fail to adequately recreate certain tactile experiences of reading on paper that many people miss and, more importantly, prevent people from navigating long texts in an intuitive and satisfying way. In turn, such navigational difficulties may subtly inhibit reading comprehension. Compared with paper, screens may also drain more of our mental resources while we are reading and make it a little harder to remember what we read when we are done. A parallel line of research focuses on people’s attitudes toward different kinds of media. Whether they realize it or not, many people approach computers and tablets with a state of mind less conducive to learning than the one they bring to paper.
But you should read the entire article because, obviously, I'm extraordinarily biased in my selection of that quote – because I love actual books – and the quote is likely taken out of context. Oh, wait. I love this line: “There is physicality in reading,” says developmental psychologist and cognitive scientist Maryanne Wolf of Tufts University, “maybe even more than we want to think about as we lurch into digital reading — as we move forward perhaps with too little reflection. Yes. Okay, now read the whole article. Or not.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,154 words on Chapter Seven of Red Delicious (aka, Raisin' Hell). I only have about nine thousand words to go, but they are going to be, by far, the most difficult of the novel. Once I'm done with Cherry Bomb and this whole Kathleen Tierney diversion, I can once again be free of the tyranny of plot. And Tierney can blow me.
Today, as I try to puzzle out "what happens next," I'll be working on the revised text of The Drowning Girl: Memoir for the Centipede Press edition.
Last night, we finished Season Three of Archer, and fuck me sideways but that show is so much funnier than it has any right to be. To quote Entertainment Weekly (an admittedly vile thing to do), it is a "wittily raunchy spy spoof." Though I'd have said a "witty, raunchy spy spoof." But yes. Witty. Yes. Raunchy. Yes. Holy shit snacks, yes.
Okay. As the cloudy 51˚F Fahrenheit day smothers me, I crawl back into the pit of words.