Tags: julian assange


"There are runes on my skin. They appear when she walks in."

This needs to be quick, because I have a call from my agent at 11:30 a.m., which is hellishly early for me to be articulate. It's sunny here, and a little warmer than yesterday, currently 73˚F. Which is good because the latest cheap space heater, Clank Mark III, konked out day before yesterday. We'd only had the fucker for a year. Our cheap-ass space heaters usually last three years. Anyway, the sky out there is That Blue. I hear people screaming. It's a Cloverfield Day.

Yesterday was an improvement over Saturday. I proofread the galleys for Dear Sweet Filthy World and made it through "The Carnival is Dead and Gone" (Sirenia Digest #65, April 2011), "Figurehead" (Sirenia Digest #66, May 2011), "Down to Gehenna" (Sirenia Digest #67, June 2011), and "The Granting Cabinet" (Sirenia Digest #68, July 2011). Then my eyes gave out. By the way, if you have not yet preordered you copy of Dear Sweet Filthy World, you should soon. The limited edition is guaranteed to sell out before publication, and it's possible that the trade edition could as well.

What I want to know is why Assange's internet wasn't cut a long damn time ago.

Last night we finished Season Five of RuPaul's Drag Race, and I was delighted and surprised Jinkx Monsoon won. I have a very serious Jinkx Monsoon crush.

Now, I gotta wake up fast.

Aunt Beast