Heavy Horses

18 years

It took some time, but the cloudy morning became a sunny day. Currently, it's 52˚F, with the windchill at 50˚F.

Today, I wrote another 1,327 words on "Mercy Brown," which will be featured in Sirenia Digest #165 later this month.

On this day in 2001, I began my online journal, over at Blogger (and made the move to LJ exclusively in, I think, 2005). Originally, the journal was meant only to chronicle the writing of Low Red Moon. But the book only required about eight months to write, and the journal just kept going. As of today, it's old enough to drink. And vote. And I am an entirely different person than I was that day in November 2001.

Also, I usually cite today as the beginning of Jethro Tull Season, though, technically, it begins the day after Thanksgiving.

I have not left the house since I got home from McWane on the 20th.


And now, something unpleasant, but I want to put it down here so that there's a permanent record. You will recall what I wrote about gender pronouns back on November 21st (Thursday)? Well, it led to some lengthy and mostly civil conversation over on Facebook. Mostly civil. At one point an acquaintance of mine, someone I've known since childhood, made this entirely reasonable comment:

If I use a gender pronoun and the person takes offense, it was because I was going on whatever information I had available. If I call someone sir for example it is because that person looks male to me. I have no way of knowing how they self identify and I certainly do not appreciate being chewed out about it or being accused of being a hater. I can’t help that that person looks male and I didn’t have more information. Does that make sense?

Of course, yes, generally speaking, this makes sense and is how most people will proceed. But that didn't stop someone calling themselves "Heidi Myrtle" from replying with "Kill yourself, idiot."

Yes, really.

The remark was deleted sometime today, but, fortunately, not before I took screencaps. Anyway, I reported "H.M." to Facebook and informed them that I had done so. Their response to me?


Truthfully, I've been waiting on a comment to this effect, and probably I've been waiting on this exact comment, for some time now. And there it is.

I won't belabor what happened here. This sort of thing is, I know, all too common. But I will say that it left me feeling sick and very angry, and if you – "Heidi Myrtle" or any of you – expect people to treat you humanely and to respect your wishes, yet you also think "Kill yourself, idiot" has any place in public discussion, it's time to reevaluate your most fundamental ideas of right and wrong. As for my being a traitor, I can only say that I am now and have always been my own person, speaking my ideas, usually arrived at on my own. I am not a mouthpiece for any movement, and if I've let you down in this respect, by a declaration you perceive as being at odds with your expectations of me, this likely only means you weren't paying very close attention to begin with.


6:32 p.m.

I oughta just go to bed, but...

It's currently 63˚F. There was some sun today, but mostly it was overcast.

I began a new story, and I did 1,024 words. The title's "Mercy Brown," though it really isn't going to have anything to do with Mercy Brown.

Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of the first issue of Sirenia Digest, and I'd forgotten until this morning. Anyway....

Last night, we finished the final season of The Man in the High Castle, and the series almost managed to be that extremely rare beast, a good film adaptation of a work by Philip K. Dick. Even though Season Four was rushed, I still thought they were going to manage it. But the last episode was a mess, and the final scene was merely inexplicable. Not in a good way. Inexplicable and silly. I know it was supposedly meant to be "ambiguous," but incomprehensible is nearer the mark. And it's a shame. Still, Rufus Sewell was, as usual, quite good. Tonight we watched Season Two of The End of the Fxxxing World, and it was actually very sweet. As I think I said of the first season, it's sort of like Quentin Tarantino got together with Wes Andersen.

I had two baloney sandwiches again for dinner, but that's okay, because I had fresh tomato on them, and last night I actually had a can of Progresso soup.

Speaking of tomatoes, imagine the alien in John Carpenter's The Thing trying to impersonate a tomato...and see below.


4:40 p.m.

On a clear day you can see last Thursday.

We should have had a sunny day. We had mostly clouds, instead. Currently, it's 60˚F.

Today, I put the final finishing touches, the last polish, on "Refugees," and a fourth version (not a fourth draft, mind you), went away to Subterranean Press. I've been working on that one since the beginning of goddamn September.

From my Facebook, today:

Here's my thing with gender pronouns: In English, I recognize he/him/his, she/her/hers, they/them/theirs...and that's all. No discussion. And if you get pissy with me about pronouns, I'll only refer to you as "it." And I really don't care what pronoun you use when referring to me, as long as it's actually a legitimate part of the English language's suite of pronouns.


10:22 p.m.
Western Interior Seaway

"They'll say no one can see us..."

Currently, I'm tired as fuck and it's 50˚F.

Here's what I posted on Facebook about 2:30 p.m.:

So, I only get two hours sleep last night, and get up at 5:30 a.m. to proofread, then, at 10, go into the lab, anyway, but only manage 4 hours because I'm so tired I'm in constant danger of impaling myself with sharp things, and I get back home and...there's an ELSA FUNKO POP! FIGURE waiting for me on my desk! <3 Spooky

Yeah, at 2:30 p.m. I was still coherent enough for emoticons. But that does sum up the day.

I had two baloney sandwiches and a Little Debbie cherry pie for dinner, and we watched the new episode of Castle Rock and two more new episodes of The Man in the High Castle.

And that was today.


1:45 p.m.

On Beyond Grothmar

Currently, it's 50˚F, with a windchill of 47˚F.

Not much to say about today. I had a doctor's appointment this morning, and it was about 2 p.m. before I got home. I think they drew about a gallon of blood. Anyway, that sorta killed the day, so far as getting work done was concerned.

But Chapter One of the current "living story" in GW2 went live today, so we gamed for a couple of hours this afternoon, and then tonight we started the final season of The Man in the High Castle.

This morning, I started rereading The Shining.


1:53 p.m.
Western Interior Seaway

Vultures and Crows, Hawks and Eagles

Currently, it's 44˚F.

We headed back out to the gullies today. Hunting season begins (Round One) on the 23rd, and we're trying to squeeze in just a little more collecting before the exposures are caught in the crossfire. It was not a stellar day, though we did turn up isolated bits of mosasaurs, turtles, fish, and sharks. And Spooky talked to all the spiders, every single one, and there were bobcat tracks everywhere. Oh, and there was a very young (and cold and sluggish) Southern fence lizard (Sceloporus undulatus undulatus). We may try to go out again Thursday, before the rain arrives on Friday.

And the we came home and ate hot dogs and watched Ashley York and Sally Rubin's documentary Hillbilly (2019), which, speaking as an Appalachian who identifies as a hillbilly, I very much appreciated. Oh, and then we re-watched an episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, just to wind down for bed.


2:04 p.m.

Best Intentions and All That Stuff

Currently, it's 46˚F.

Today, we had to go out to Mom's in Leeds to do laundry. I tried to work, as well, hoping I could get through that Russian interview and the last edits on "Refugees," but I only just barely managed to finish the interview.

Tonight, a new episode of Shameless and two more episodes of Castle Rock, which gets us caught up to the episode that airs this Wednesday.

Just not a lot to say tonight, but I have some reposts from my Facebook:

So, one more observation, then I gotta work: From the way some liberal folks react upon hearing me refer to myself as a moderate or a centrist you'd think I was wearing a goddamn red MAGA cap, and this is a big part of what's wrong in America right now.

~ and ~

What else really needs to be said about an age when everyone decides that the best color for painting the interior (and frequently the exterior) of their homes is what I have named Soviet-despair grey?


1:07 p.m.

"There'll be a golden ladder reachin' down."

Sunny today, and if only for that it seemed not so cold. Currently, it's 40˚F.

I actually slept until almost 9 a.m. this morning. That hasn't happened in months. I slept eight whole hours.

Today, I wrote ad copy for Comes a Pale Horse, and then I went back to "Refugees" and added a new scene. Because I couldn't get over the feeling that it had ended too abruptly and there was something missing, something before the ending. So, yeah, I added another 1,293+ words. Kathryn says I made it better, and she tends to tell me the truth about these things.

After the writing, we watched two episodes of Nature, "Forest of the Lynx" and "Nature's Biggest Beasts."

Last night, we finished Season One of Castle Rock, and I was absolutely delighted with the series...until the final ten minutes of the last episode. The cast is the best thing the series has going for it. Sissy Spacek was amazing. But...the last ten minutes of that last episode. What an utterly idiotic, lousy excuse for an ending. It came dangerously near to spoiling everything that had come before it, that's how bad it was. That's not what you call "leaving it open for interpretation." That's what you call being a dumbass. Regardless, we started Season Two tonight, and so for it's good. Maybe this time around they'll dodge a dumb ending.

And I don't usually post photos of food, but we had Five Guys for dinner, and, damn, those Cajun fries are tasty.

Later Taters,

5:39 p.m.


Just something quick. Overcast here all day, rain so light it hardly could be called rain, and currently it's 41˚F, with the windchill at 35˚F.

There was breakfast from Jack's this morning, to help make up for my not having dinner last night. And then I did the line edits on Comes a Pale Rider and sent the ms. away to SubPress. So, there's the second Dancy Flammarion collection, finished.

See, I told you it would be something quick.


10:52 p.m.