![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
never gonna fall for
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:30 pmYesterday was by almost every contemporary and practical means of obtaining a measurement of the objective and/or subjective worth of any given day a complete and total disaster. In my day planner, it earned an L, which the constant reader will recall is my shorthand for "Lost Day." One that is gone and was not properly used and can never be regained. It may have been related to my recent insomnia, though I got a good night's sleep Thursday night (Friday morning). I was in bed by midnight and slept about nine hours. I virtually never sleep that much at a stretch, and never sleep longer than nine hours. Maybe it was a case of an excess of sleep.
Regardless.
Today was better. Today was not a lost day. I didn't write, but, still, the day earned the next best thing to an X, which is a W. We read chapters Four, Five, and Six (pp. 71-139 of the tpb) of Low Red Moon. And while it was good to be working and not watching the day spiral away into a second consecutive lost day, it was, admittedly, rather disheartening work.
I love this novel. But considering the general indifference it has encountered from the Reading Public, spending all these many hours correcting formatting errors, typos, misspelling, commas, and so forth seems a bit like (to use an entirely cliché yet uncannily apt simile) rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Next to Daughter of Hounds, I know that it's the best novel I've written. And I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that in August 2007 it's getting a third lease on life. But I am never optimistic in these situations. It will not earn new reviews, as it is not a new novel. The best I can hope for is that this go round it will have a long, long (if inauspicious) shelf life. Though, I have to confess, reading through it this time, I have an almost irresistible urge to hide it some place safe and never let anyone else anywhere near it. Hardly the "right" attitude. But, yeah, anyway...deck chairs on the Titanic...but also, I find that I miss Birmingham. And that's just really frelled. There is so much of Birmingham in this novel. Or, rather, it is a distillation of those rare elements which I loved about Birmingham. So, you put these two things together, deck chairs and nostalgia, and it's something else I'd rather not be doing.
It still cold here. Lows in the teens. Which does nothing good for my mood.
Also, today I helped Spooky compose all the many elements of one of the photos for the website redesign. I truly hope we can pull this thing together before Daughter of Hounds starts showing up on the shelves, but it's gonna be very close. She's shooting the photos tomorrow. Some of the photos, anyway.
Can someone please explain to me the logic behind grocery stores blaring Xmas music from November 1st until New Years? I can sort of see the demented rationale at work in, say, shopping malls. It's Xmas. Buy, buy, buy, or all your friends and family will hate you. But in grocery stores? Maybe the week before Xmas. Maybe. It just strikes me as weird and sadistic (but not in a good way).
Should I mention Final Fantasy XII ? Okay. You talked me into it. フラン and Co. made it through the Paramina Rift to Mt. Bur-Omisace, concluded their business there, then headed back through the Rift to the Stilshrine of Miriam, only to discover that we are not yet powerful enough to avoid getting our asses kicked by its various and many unpleasant inhabitants — Dawnshard or no Dawnshard. So, mostly I've been teleporting back and forth between the Rift and the Mosphoran Highlands, killing shit, just trying to get everyone's HP and MP up to snuff. 58:24:38 hrs. in, I'm still loving this game, even if it is stealing precious reading and sleeping time.
I suppose that's it for now. I'm not sure this whole evening blogging thing's working out for me. Maybe it's time to revert. Maybe not. The cold has kept me inside, pretty much defeating the purpose. We are promised low sixties next week. I'd settle for that. Anything to keep the bloody penguins at bay. I've just about strained my Jethro Tull muscle.
Regardless.
Today was better. Today was not a lost day. I didn't write, but, still, the day earned the next best thing to an X, which is a W. We read chapters Four, Five, and Six (pp. 71-139 of the tpb) of Low Red Moon. And while it was good to be working and not watching the day spiral away into a second consecutive lost day, it was, admittedly, rather disheartening work.
I love this novel. But considering the general indifference it has encountered from the Reading Public, spending all these many hours correcting formatting errors, typos, misspelling, commas, and so forth seems a bit like (to use an entirely cliché yet uncannily apt simile) rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Next to Daughter of Hounds, I know that it's the best novel I've written. And I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that in August 2007 it's getting a third lease on life. But I am never optimistic in these situations. It will not earn new reviews, as it is not a new novel. The best I can hope for is that this go round it will have a long, long (if inauspicious) shelf life. Though, I have to confess, reading through it this time, I have an almost irresistible urge to hide it some place safe and never let anyone else anywhere near it. Hardly the "right" attitude. But, yeah, anyway...deck chairs on the Titanic...but also, I find that I miss Birmingham. And that's just really frelled. There is so much of Birmingham in this novel. Or, rather, it is a distillation of those rare elements which I loved about Birmingham. So, you put these two things together, deck chairs and nostalgia, and it's something else I'd rather not be doing.
It still cold here. Lows in the teens. Which does nothing good for my mood.
Also, today I helped Spooky compose all the many elements of one of the photos for the website redesign. I truly hope we can pull this thing together before Daughter of Hounds starts showing up on the shelves, but it's gonna be very close. She's shooting the photos tomorrow. Some of the photos, anyway.
Can someone please explain to me the logic behind grocery stores blaring Xmas music from November 1st until New Years? I can sort of see the demented rationale at work in, say, shopping malls. It's Xmas. Buy, buy, buy, or all your friends and family will hate you. But in grocery stores? Maybe the week before Xmas. Maybe. It just strikes me as weird and sadistic (but not in a good way).
Should I mention Final Fantasy XII ? Okay. You talked me into it. フラン and Co. made it through the Paramina Rift to Mt. Bur-Omisace, concluded their business there, then headed back through the Rift to the Stilshrine of Miriam, only to discover that we are not yet powerful enough to avoid getting our asses kicked by its various and many unpleasant inhabitants — Dawnshard or no Dawnshard. So, mostly I've been teleporting back and forth between the Rift and the Mosphoran Highlands, killing shit, just trying to get everyone's HP and MP up to snuff. 58:24:38 hrs. in, I'm still loving this game, even if it is stealing precious reading and sleeping time.
I suppose that's it for now. I'm not sure this whole evening blogging thing's working out for me. Maybe it's time to revert. Maybe not. The cold has kept me inside, pretty much defeating the purpose. We are promised low sixties next week. I'd settle for that. Anything to keep the bloody penguins at bay. I've just about strained my Jethro Tull muscle.
