Friday, April 02, 2004
Well, I'm not sure what went wrong. Perhaps the blood lining the little black box was not as virginal as I'd thought (hey, the boy told me he was a virgin), but it would seem the containment system has failed. I'm up to my fetlocks in ooey-gooey clots of bitterness. And the tussle between The Dutiful Me and The Other Me can't be far behind. Perhaps it will hold off until Monday or Tuesday. It helps that I'm actually working and not in that nebulous, puttersome place between projects.
Frell, it's early. I woke up just after eight, and woke Spooky, and I thought she was going to take my head off. She's a dangerous beast if there hasn't been enough sleep. Me, I'm just sort of sleepy. Nothing I can't cure with the proper dose of stimulants. For breakfast, we had a very peppery stew of asparagus, shitake, oyster mushrooms, zucchini, yellow bell pepper, and beef (and a slew of spices) with udon, and I think that helped to kick-start my brain. I am now fully half-awake.
Yesterday, I wrote a respectable 1,538 words on "The Daughter of the Four of Pentacles." I hope to do as well today, though I have an appointment at 4:30 that might cost me a few hundred words. I'm very pleased with the places this story is going. It's turned out to be another yellow-house story (other yellow-house stories include "So Runs the World Away," "In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers," Low Red Moon, and "The Dead and the Moonstruck"). I think it's going to be one of those stories that blurs the distinction between science and magic, which is a good thing.
Also, I received a copy of the Spring 2004 issue (Vol. 23, No. 1) of The Irish Literary Supplement yesterday, which includes Jack Morgan's article, "Bard of the Wasted and Lost" (pp. 24-25), which is partly a discussion of Low Red Moon, but also looks at some of my short fiction, including "The Last Child of Lir" (from Tales of Pain and Wonder) and "The King of Birds" (from From Weird and Distant Shores). Jack Morgan is the author of The Biology of Horror, and also contributed the preface to the Subterranean Press edition of Low Red Moon. It's kind of cool, seeing my work considered between articles on the evolution of modern Irish poetry and the complexities of contemporary Irish politics.
It's been a long, long time since I plugged the Species of One Shop, but last night Spooky devised a devious Easter special. Between now and midnight on April 13, you can get the "Ugliest Cat in the World" bunny. How the hezmana can you resist? Sick to frelling death of Easter-egg trees and inflatable Peter Cottontails? Had it up to your eema with milk chocolate lagomorphs and frilly pastel bonnets? Fight the cute!©®™ with your very own rude bunny! Sadly, they neither explode nor emit noxious, toxic fumes. Cafe Press is sooooo behind the times.