Dear Sweet Filthy World

Sunny again today, but still with some clouds. Our high was, and presently is (so our high so far), 87˚F, with the heat index at 92˚F.

I woke at six this morning, which was earlier than I'd intended. But what the fuck, I'd gotten to sleep by midnight, so I figured I'd get up, have some breakfast, then get to work. And, instead, I fell the fuck back to sleep and woke at 8 a.m. Because I am a creature of excruciating habit, or excruciatingly a creature of habit, this threw the whole day into a less than productive tailspin. I finally gave up and played Guild Wars 2 and tried not the think about the words I did not get written today.

What am I writing? Fuck it, I'll tell you. The novel is called The Night Watchers, and it is essentially a new and more supernatural incarnation of the novel that would have been Interstate Love Song (based on the short-story of the same title). I really like it, all of it that's in my head, and that's a lot of it. If I can quit fucking around, it could be done by the end of the summer. The print and ebook versions will be published by Subterranean Press, and hopefully there will be an audiobook. Likely there will. It's set mostly in and around north-central Alabama, but spans many, many decades. The title is borrowed from Peter Straub's Ghost Story, one of my favorite books of all time, ever.

But you knew that about me and Ghost Story. I mean, if you are one of those Constant Readers.

But I gotta admit, balancing the fiction, no matter how much I like the novel at hand, with the sudden and marvelous paleontology opportunities is a challenge. But. Fiction keeps the rent paid and the lights on and food on the table. Paleontology just, you know, makes me feel like I'm doing what I was put on earth to do. And it's all sort of ironic. For me - as frustrating as I might find it, as much as I would usually rather be doing something else - writing is easy as pie. On the other hand, paleontology is fucking hard work – and I'm not talking about physically demanding fieldwork and fossil preparation. I'm talking about the intellectual rigor, discipline, and plain ol' smarts involved. So, I'm going to be busting my butt to do the fairly easy thing that pays the bills to earn the luxury of busting my butt to do the very hard thing that pays not one red cent. Irony. But, that said, I am just grateful for both opportunities, at this point in my life and at this point in history.

By the way, SubPress has announced Vile Affections (and the accompanying chapbook Cambrian Tales), and you may see the cover. In fact, you can now place preorders! Right here. Note: Only those who bought the signed numbered edition of Comes a Pale Rider may preorder the signed numbered edition of Vile Affections at this time. Anyone may preorder the trade hardcover.

And here's some crap I posted today to Twitter and Facebook:

I'm just waiting for one of these anti-COVID vaccine yahoos to realize that, in effect, every time they use any medication they are – in the eyes of pharmaceutical companies and medical science – essentially guinea pigs or lab rats or Rhesus monkeys, FDA approval or no.

~ and ~

Fact: When you are so afraid that you can only win an election when fewer people vote, so you try to make it harder and harder for folks to vote, especially those whom you suspect won't vote for you, you've failed democracy.

~ and this, which someone else said and which I retweeted ~

Let's perfectly clear...Democrats do not want to de-fund the police. Dems want to demilitarize and de-brutalize the police.

I leave you with my level 80 holosmith (an elite engineering specialization), Mandy J. Wolowitz (née Hansen), at Timberline Falls. Yes, she has a lightsaber.

Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast




3:50 p.m.

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Sunny today, but only 78˚F. Currently, it's 67˚F.

I finished the re-read of Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Live in the Castle. My copy (well, one of my copies and the one in this photograph) was a gift from Peter Straub. It was signed by Jackson to Bernard Malamud in September 1962, who later donated it to the Bennington College Library. And at some point they actually got rid of it.

What else can I possibly say about a day that simply exploded in my face?

Later,
Aunt Beast




11:27 a.m.

Mostly sunny today. The clouds arrived late in the afternoon. Our high was only 73˚F. Currently it's 60˚F.

Toady I finished reading Peter Straub's Ghost Story (1979) for the umpteenth time. My love for this novel is legendary, so...I won't go on and on and on again. And now I'm reading another of my favorites, Kathe Koja's Skin (1993)

Today Spooky made a very tasty loaf of cheddar and black pepper bread. We are diligently sheltering-in-place, but we are not starving.

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A week or so ago, Internet Archive responded to the pandemic with what was clearly meant as a benevolent act, but which has fucked over a great number of living writers – myself included. IA unilaterally decided they should make 1.4 million ebooks available for free, in unlimited numbers, for "loan" to readers. For the most part, this was illegal (not to mention immoral). My lit agent at Writers House is helping me have my works removed from the rights grab, but the whole thing is sickening, that people think so little of authors than to expect us to work for free, when most of us are barely able to even support ourselves by our labors.

Please note that for one week in March I made the ebook of Dear Sweet Filthy World free to own. It was Subterranean Press' idea. They asked. I agreed. It's amazing what what you can accomplish by simple politeness.

---

As of about three hours ago, there are 935 conformed cases of Covid-19 in Alabama, with 234 of them here in Jefferson County and another 84 in Shelby County. In just four days time, March 26th-March 30th, the number of cases has more than doubled in the USA.

Meanwhile, John Prine is reported to be doing better. I spent the day worrying about him and listening to his music. On Facebook, I wrote of "Paradise": I used to sing this song with Jada's dad, who was a musician. It remains one of my favorite songs ever. "Where the air smelled like snakes..." One of the best lines of poetry ever written. You know what that means, even if you could never explain.

And to Governor Meemaw (aka Kay Ivey), who continues to refuse to issue an order to shelter-in-place, with all due respect, no, this is not like the time there was a copperhead at the church social. This is an actual disaster, and it's past time you start acting like it.

Tonight, RP and Vikings. We've made it to Part One of the sixth and final season.

Later,
Aunt Beast




1:46 p.m.

Not much sun today, but no rain after the early morning. I was up just after dawn. Our high today was only 59˚F. Currently it's 50˚F.

Kenny Rogers has died.

The number of confirmed cases of Covid-19 in Alabama has, as of two hours ago, risen to 131. Of those, 61 are here in Jefferson County and another 16 are in the adjacent county of Shelby.

I got some stuff together today for Ellen Datlow, who's reprinting a story (TBA). Kathryn's gonna scan the signed contract, and I'll email it. It just seems safer that way.

Yesterday, on Twitter, Neil deGrasse Tyson explained the scientific method as, ""Do whatever it takes ensure you do not fool yourself into thinking something is true that is actually false, or that something is false which is actually true."

And I have this quote from Peter Straub, "He clung to this notion with the dogged stubbornness of the stupid." ~ Ghost Story (1979)

There's a good article in the New York Times, "Coronavirus Could Overwhelm U.S. Without Urgent Action, Estimates Say," looking at a new study from Columbia University. This paragraph is especially poignant:

“We’re looking at something that’s catastrophic on a level that we have not seen for an infectious disease since 1918,” said Jeffrey Shaman, a professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia and the leader of the research team, referring to the Spanish flu. “And it’s requiring sacrifices we haven’t seen since World War II. There are going to be enormous disruptions. There’s no easy way out.”

Yes.

It's not all end-of-the-world news, though. Consider two new dinosaur discoveries, Asteriornis maastrichtensis and Oculudentavis khaungraae. The former is now the oldest-known "modern" bird, closely related to "the superorder Galloanserae such as chickens and duck" and dated to 66.8-66.7 mybp, from just before the K-Pg extinction event. The latter is an astounding creature, a skull preserved in amber that seems to indicate an animal about the size of a bumblebee hummingbird. So, imagine a hummingbird with fangs. If it is truly an avialan dinosaur, as originally suspected, it would be, by far, the smallest-known dinosaur (excluding the smallest modern birds). However, there is some healthy skepticism about the proposed dinosaurian identity. It's possible that the specimen may actually be a lizard.

Today, Kathryn and I played Guild Wars 2. Tonight, we watched the new episode of RuPaul's Drag Race and then more Vikings.

Later,
Aunt Beast




4:27 p.m. (Wednesday)

So, two days without entries because I wasn't well night before last and I hardly slept but, mostly, I haven't been in the mood to say "Today, I did not write." But we can't have that becoming a habit, so here I am tonight to say, "Today, I did not write." I tried, but no cigar. There was also some work related stuff today with Tor.com and Writers House and Subterranean Press, but it was all email.

Storms all across the southern Mississippi Valley tonight, and we have a tornado watch until 4 a.m. Our high today was 72˚F, and it's still 67˚F.

I have been reading, at least. I managed to finally finish Stephen King's Doctor Sleep. Having just heaped praise on The Shining, I don't feel too bad about being honest as regards my feelings about this poorly conceived and executed sequel. Grown-ass alcoholic Danny Torrance and some mouthy kid and a whole shit-ton of forgettable, disposable characters do long-winded psychic battle with what essentially amounts to the vampires from Near Dark crossed with the manitous of Peter Straub's Ghost Story crossed with the carnival from Something Wicked This Way Comes. Yeah, pretty much. So, no more recent King for me.* I knew it was a bad idea, but I did it regardless. Anyway, today I read Livia Llewellyn's short story, "Bright Crown of Joy," which was pretty good. I also re-read Lovecraft's "Dagon," and it continues to amaze me how that story can simultaneously be both so badly written and so effective. Oh, and I started Larry McMurtry's Boone's Lick today, and so far I'm loving it. These days, I'm really a happier person when I'm not reading other people's weird fiction and horror, and you can make of that you will.

Oh, and the last three night's we've been playing catch-up with The Expanse. Though I love the show, I never finished Season Three after the cancellation was announced. But now Amazon has Season Four up. The last few episodes of Season Three were very good, by the way.

I should post this before the power goes.

Later,
CRK




1:36 p.m. (yesterday)


* For the purpose of this LJ entry, I consider everything after Gerald's Game (1992) to be recent King.

No sun to speak of today, but warm. Currently, it's 61˚F.

Not much progress on the new story today, just some proofreading and line edits. I talked with Bill Schafer about cover art, and I talked with Pete Crowther about a new edition of Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart. I drew monster doodles for eBay customers. And someone at Bustle, which is apparently "the premier digital destination for young women," wanted to know what's the scariest book I ever read. For an upcoming article, I think. So I said House of Leaves, though Ghost Story and The Haunting of Hill House are tied for close seconds.

That was my work day. I also read Larry MacMurtry and listened to Springsteen. Spooky had to go out an get a new iron, because the old one went tits up this afternoon. She's making beasties for her Etsy shop, and we cannot have wrinkled beasties. That's my job.

We're getting some books up on eBay. Please have a look.

Later,
CRK




6:58 p.m.

Sunny this morning, and no chance of rain today. But the weather has been oddly cool. Currently, it's 79˚F, with the heat index at 81˚F.

Yesterday was a black wall, or wave, or pit of depression and anger. Most of it I spent...well, who gives a shit? I don't. Today, I have a doctor's appointment at 3:30 p.m., so at least I'm not losing the day to the evil mood. I did leave the house yesterday. Just so I could say that I did.

I am aware that 1947 is asking too much. At this point, I would gladly settle for 1994.

Happy 98th birthday to Ray Bradbury, one of the last masters.

Yesterday, I watched a huge red paper wasp (Polistes carolina) crawling about on the masonry outside one of my office windows and thought of Peter Straub. Wasps always make me think of Ghost Story.

Last night, we finished The Roosevelts and began The West (1996).

Later,
CRK




10:30 a.m. (yesterday)

Stay in the shadows.
Cheer at the gallows.
This is a round up. ~ Radiohead, "Burn the Witch"

Low humidity here today, so far. Currently, it's only 40%, and that's good. Yesterday was misery. But the NWS says we're going to hit 91˚F; we'll just have to see.

I didn't write yesterday. There's a surprise, right? I was entirely too sick from not sleeping. I managed to doze off about 5:30 this morning, and I might have gotten five hours, which, honestly, is as good a night's sleep as I've had in a week or more.

I used to know that face in the mirror. Now, it's just a face I'm wearing.

I've been putting Ridley Scott's Prometheus (2012) on just to have something to soothe my eyes at night. It really is holding up well. It's such a better film than a lot of people seem to believe.

TTFN,
Aunt Beast

This will be my last entry until after WFC, until after the trip to DC. Our train leaves tomorrow afternoon, and we'll be back early Monday. Right now, this is my schedule for the convention. All, my programming is on Saturday:

1. Coode Street Podcast with Peter Straub, Jonathan Strahan, and Gary K. Wolfe, "The Literary Uses of Fantasy," 4-5 p.m., Conference Theater

2. Reading, 8:30-9:30 p.m., Fairfax

---

Yesterday, I managed four more pages on Part 2 of The Good, the Bad, and the Bird, but that still leaves four to finish. Which won't happen until Tuesday.

And now I should go. The sky is cloudy, and there's still packing to be done.

Later Taters,
Aunt Beast

Outside, where the sun has not yet touched, there's a thin frosting of snow. It'll be gone as soon as the cold sun finds it. Winter eats its own. Currently, 29˚F here in Providence, but the ever helpful windchill means it feels 18˚F. In the South, we'd call this goddamn cold.

Yesterday I intended to get Sirenia Digest #94 together and out to subscribers. But then Kathryn and I spent the afternoon on more edits to "Mote[L] 2032." It's one of those pieces I'll never truly believe is finished. It can always be made just a little bit better. sovay kindly read the story for me yesterday. The Drowning Girl: A Memoir was like that. Peter Straub finally had to tell me to stop working on it. Anyway, today I am going to put the issue together.

Yesterday was also spent removing more books from my office, and reorganizing what remains. I'm estimating that approximately five hundred books have left this room. I'm finally nearing the end of that whittling away, and now I just have to get all the books I'm discarding out of the house. There are still several boxes to be considered by Paper Nautilus, and the rest will likely go to local libraries to do with as they will. Just so long as the books are not here, I don't care. If I can get everything done today I mean to get done, tomorrow we'll be taking two empty bookcases to the storage place in Pawtucket, and we should be able to shelve most of the eBay stock (hundreds of authors copies of my books from both Subterranean Press and Penguin). Slowly, progress is being made, and it feels good to be lightening the load.

If you have not already, please have a look at the current eBay auctions. The BIG-ASS XMAS EBAY BLOWOUT, remember? In particular, I draw your attention to this auction: Letter O from the lettered edition of Tales from the Woeful Platypus, which comes with a handmade by Spooky beanie platypus. Well, actually, it's a ricey platypus, as it's filled with rice, not beans.

Last night we finally were able to see Luc Besson's Les aventures extraordinaires d'Adèle Blanc-Sec! I'd only been waiting since fucking 2010. It's a marvelous film. Besson and some of his longtime collaborators – Eric Serra, Thierry Arbogast, etc. – have surely done Jacques Tardi's comic justice. I'm a great fan of Besson's The Fifth Element (1997), and in many ways Les aventures extraordinaires d'Adèle Blanc-Sec feels like a companion piece to that film. It shares much the same style, and, of course, both have roots in French comics.* The cast is superb, especially Louise Bourgoin in the title role. So, yes. See this film if you possibly can. It's now out on DVD and Blu-ray, and it's worth owning. Do not watch it dubbed!

Okay. I just got an email from my editor reminding me that, this morning, I have to go over some layouts for the forthcoming Dark Horse reprint of the Alabaster prose collection. I truly do wonder how grand publishing must have been in the days before email...

Better Than Yesterday,
Aunt Beast

* As much as I loathe Japanese manga, I love la bande dessinée franco-belge.