greygirlbeast: (Bowie3)
I'll make no apologies for the tone of yesterday's post. There are no regrets. I will only offer an opaque excuse, that I have been made a party to what is, in my estimation, a sickening tragedy. One that could have easily been prevented. One I tried to prevent. And now I will carry the fact of it in my head for years.

And so, yeah, the fury's going nowhere soon. So, do not attempt to console me. It's amazing how many people on the internet are unable to comprehend that trying to calm a rabid animal only gets them bitten. Oh, and then they whine about how unfair it is they've been bitten. Poor fucking idiots.


Today there is work, which part of me needs badly. Never mind my having finished a novel day before yesterday. It's not that I love the work; it's that the work keeps me sane by filling a void. So, yes, work, important work, then my psychiatrist before dinner. There's a prescription.

And speaking of work, I have begun to realize there's presently confusion over the two books I've written this year, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir and Blood Oranges. The first – The Drowning Girl: A Memoir – took me about a year and a half to write, and is, by far, my best novel to date. The second – Blood Oranges - took me forty-five days to write, and if you think of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir as, oh, let's say a gourmet meal, then Blood Oranges is the tasty, but fluffy and insubstantial, desert that comes afterwards.

The Drowning Girl: A Memoir will be out from Penguin in March 2012.

Blood Oranges hasn't yet sold.

And while I'm at it:

Two Worlds and In Between: The Best of Me (Volume One) will be out, I think, in September (or maybe October) from Subterranean Press. If you've not ordered, you need to do so.

Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart will be released by Subterranean Press sometime in 2012.

And there's a lot more, and it's awesome, but if I told you, I really would have to kill you. No joke.


Yesterday, I read two stories from The Book of Cthulhu. Used to be, I never read the anthologies my stories appeared in. Don't know why. I just never wanted to do it. But, the last year or so I've been reading some of the books with my stories. Anyway, yesterday I read two of the twenty-seven (I think it's twenty-seven) stories in The Book of Cthulhu. The first, John Langan's "The Shallows" is actually quite brilliant. It's unexpected, and fresh, and comes at you sideways. It's not what you think it is. These are all good things. The other was Thomas Ligotti's "Nethescurial," a very Ligottian take on the Lovecraftian found manuscript and the Lovecraftian malign artifact. And of course it was brilliant. It was Thomas fucking Ligotti.

But I fear there's a lot of this book I'm not going to like, stories I'll skip over. Because the author has chosen to use parody in her or his approach HPL, and that's just not my thing.


Yesterday, after a lot of work and email, the "day off" began about three p.m. We drove south and west almost to the Connecticut state line, to Westerly and on down to Watch Hill. To the lighthouse at Watch Hill. We took the narrow, winding road out to the lighthouse, and sat on the sea wall. To the west, the protected waters of Little Narragansett Bay were still and quiet. A flock of cormorants sunned themselves on rotting pilings. On the east side of the point, though, the waves were still wild. Now and then, the sun through the spray off the tops of the waves created the briefest of rainbows behind them. We watched surfers a while, then drove east to Moonstone Beach.

As I've said, Moonstone has many moods. And I saw another new one yesterday. I'd expected piles of pebbles and all manner of unusual strandings and flotsam. My expectation is irrelevant. The beach looked stripped raw. I can think of no other way to describe it. There's been a tremendous amount of erosion during the storm. The tide was coming in, and there were odd sandbars and eddies, and the crashing waves – some easily six to eight feet high – were coming in from the west, the east, the southeast, the southwest, in no discernible (gods, the English language is retarded) pattern. The air reeked overwhelmingly of dead fish, though not a dead fish was in evidence. The usual cobbles were almost entirely absent. The waters in the breaker zone were an ugly greenish black, loaded with sediment and all manner of...well...dead things. Mostly plant matter. Only the Piping Plovers seemed to be happy with the state of things, dashing about madly at the water's edge. I could see that the waves had overtopped the dunes and the sea had reached both Trustom and Card ponds. It was the sight of a place you trust as being the incarnation of calm, seen after terrible violence has occurred. But the error is mine. Panthalassa has no interest in my moods, impressions, or needs, and if I thought otherwise, I'd be a fool. Moonstone will heal, in time.

Between the ponds, there were birdwatchers, and we had our monoculars with us. We spotted a Little Blue Heron (Egretta caerulea) and three Semipalmated Plovers (Charadrius semipalmatus), both new to us.

We drove on to Narragansett, but there was no power. So we couldn't get dinner at Iggy's or at George's (which is actually in Galilee). We did manage to piss at a Cumberland Farms. Their power was out, but they let us use a Bic lighter. It's amazing how dark a women's room can be. At sunset, we drove past Scarborough Beach, and Narragansett Beach. The surf was heavy at the latter, but not as heavy as I'd expected. There were dozens of surfers in the water, most seeming a bit disappointed. All in all, we saw far less damage than I'd expected. And then we came home.

And that was yesterday. Oh, except for three wasted hours in Second Life. If you tell me you like it dark, and then bale when it gets rough, and without so much as a "good night," you're a simpering weasel, and it's really as simple as that.

Aunt Beast
greygirlbeast: (tonks!)
Yesterday, I did 1,203 words on "The Ape's Wife," which is coming along quite well. It would probably be coming along a bit faster, but there are constant "research pauses," as I can never seem to get all this stuff worked out ahead of time. For example: exactly what sort of biplane appears in the 1933 film? Answer, after much searching: the Curtiss "Helldiver" (Model 77) with a 700Hp Wright engine. Or, also for example: which street adjacent to the Empire State Building does Kong fall to? Answer: probably 5th Avenue. And on and on and on. I won't even get started about Sumatran flora. Not so much progress on the "Onion" screenplay last night, not enough for my liking. Only one good page, in part because I went back and rewrote the first three pages. So, this morning (by five minutes, it is still morning), the Zokoutu page meter looks like this:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
4 / 115

Spooky's work on the Murder of Angels galleys continues. She's just finished Chapter 5 ("Pillars of Fire," to page 159). Around here, it seems there is very little at the moment except work. I did squeeze in a National Geographic documentary last night, an examination of supervolcanoes and the role of Thera in the destruction of the Minoan civilization 3,500 years ago. Neat stuff. It now appears as though the eruption rates a 7, not a 6 (Krakatoa was a 6, Mount St. Helens only a 5), and that the pyroclastic flow may have swept across the sea to Crete, accompanied by a truly enormous tsunami.

My grateful thanks to Robin Bunch, aka [ profile] bunny_angel, who will now be serving as my web designer/tech/troubleshooter. Thanks, also, to the others who inquired; I will try to write you all personal "thank you" notes soon. Your enthusiasm is appreciated.

We had quite a good walk yesterday evening, and in Freedom Park we encountered a wonderfully raucous anti-Bush/anti-war rally, complete with megaphones and an enormous "impeach Bush" banner. I wish I'd had the camera with me to record the occasion. We walked along Moreland north to Ponce, then turned east and followed the parks along Ponce de Leon. Maybe a mile and a half altogether. Go feet!

Inspired by [ profile] docbrite, Spooky and I are going to start keeping a "yard list." That is, the bird species we've actually seen here within the confines of our tiny yard. We sat down this morning after breakfast and tallied up all we can presently recall, a rather impressive 18 taxa. Amazingly, I do not think we have ever seen a pigeon in this yard. Anyway, the list is behind the cut, for them what cares about things ornithological:

Yard List, as of 5/3/07 )

Oh. And I have a brand-new Nymphadora Tonks icon, as there are now publicity shots from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix online. You may see them here. Tonks is almost enough to tempt me to commit a bout of Potter slash. Maybe Nymphadora/Hermione/Bellatrix Lestrange? It does have possibilities.

The platypus says to shut up about witch pr0n and start writing, and hesheit is in no mood this morning to be lightly disregarded.


greygirlbeast: (Default)
Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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