God as a bullet, an ICBM, and global climate change.

There may be ice on the way. There may not be. Likely, we'll just see a little sleet, rain, clouds, this dreary, deceptively appropriate January weather. The sun won't show her face tomorrow. In the house, the air is cold and very still.

It came closest to midnight — just two minutes away — in 1953, following the successful test of a hydrogen bomb by the United States. It has been as far away as 17 minutes, set there in 1991 following the demise of the Soviet Union.

That would be the Doomsday Clock, maintained since 1947 by the Board of Directors of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists at the University of Chicago, which has now been moved from 11:53 p.m. to 11:55 p.m. Only five minutes left until midnight. Just enough time to count to 300. The clock keepers have deemed this "the most perilous period since Hiroshima," citing "nuclear weapons programs in Iran and North Korea, unsecured nuclear materials in Russia and elsewhere and 25,000 nuclear weapons in the United States and Russia, including 2,000 that are ready to launch."

But. And also.

The BotAS notes that environmental degradation due to global warming "poses a dire threat to human civilization that is second only to nuclear weapons."

So. Take your pick. Because I don't see Peace and Love and the End of Greed and Hate anywhere on the horizon tonight.

The Immaculate Order of the Falling Sky has not decided whether or not to make a formal statement on this latest advancement of the clock, but does point out that the Big Space Rock would be quite a bit less messy and more efficient, with the added plus that there would be no lingering thermonuclear fallout to muck things up for whatever species might survive into the coming Neozoic/Posthomozoic Era.

Bedtime for nixars...

still, sometimes I get a strange pain inside

I'm running a little late today, so I will try — and likely fail — to make a shorter entry this ayem.

Yesterday, I did 1,661 words, which is only a disappointment relative to the last four days. It was still an exceptional writing day, given that my average is 1,000 words/per day, and given the count now stands at 17 down, 14 to go.

Talking about Concrete Blonde yesterday, somehow I neglected to ever get around to what I'd meant to say, the main reason I'd bothered to even bring the band up here. The song "Joey" off Bloodletting was very, very important to Silk, and to a lesser extent, to Threshold. Somthing of the character of Keith Barry was drawn from that song, I suspect, and then, later, it would influence my approach to Deacon Silvey. And the lyrics are too redolent of two or three of my own disastrous relationships (circa 1992-1993, and another from the winter/spring of '97), relationships that I drew upon when writing those two books (and especially Silk). Which is to say, growing up as I did, I have a soft spot for drunks and losers and addicts. But I'm all better now. At least on the Outside. And yes, it's true: Beware friendships and love affairs with writers, because, sooner or later, it all goes into the stew.

My thanks to derekcfpegritz for pointing me towards Polish surrealist Jacek Yerka, with whom I am now deeply infatuated. If possible, this will be the artist whose work appears on the cover of the next collection of dark fantasy stories, whatever I end up calling it. Check out "Brontosaurus Civitas," especially.

I noticed that not only is there the 50-books-challenge thingy, but also 50filmchallenge. That is, see 50 films over the course of a year. And, I'm sorry, but I just had to laugh. By a very conservative estimate, I must see at least three or four films a week, sometimes five or six. But let's say just four. That would be 208/per annum. I think I'd need at least a 400 film challenge to find it at all challenging.

Spooky is deep into the feathery recesses of this Orithaceous Period which has gripped her. Even I'm being sucked into the enthusiasm. So, I'm going to write something short, a poem or vignette (probably the former), something about the four wizard corvids she's currently sculpting. She intends to auction them on eBay, so what we'll do is each auction will be for one bird and one signed, handwritten copy of whatever it is I decide to write about said birds. The piece will not be printed anywhere for, oh, let's say three years. I'm not sure when this will happen. When the dolls are finished. When I have a moment to write the piece. Maybe by next week. I'll keep you posted. We'll try to find time to get some books up, too.

A package just arrived from Spooky's mom in RI. Some clothing we left behind when we were there in August. More importantly, Jelly Bellys.

Last night, a little Final Fantasy XII (I finally defeated the "Produce Stand"), and we read more of Tideland. And worried about an ice storm that never came. On Monday, we had highs in the low 70s. Today's forecast high is 37F. And I should get crackin', as they say.