Howard Hughes and the Crenulated Nautilus.

The dreamsickness is with me today, fluttering behind my eyes. And I can only grit my teeth and wait for it to fade and remember this: My past does not haunt me; I haunt myself with my past. Consciously and unconsciously.

I am fairly certain this is the longest genuine vacation I've had in...well, in just about fucking forever. Years, certainly. To be perfectly perspicuous, a vacation that is not a working vacation. On Wednesday evening, I let my lit agent and producer D, my editor at HC and the folks at subpress, know that I would be out of touch until at least Monday and maybe until Tuesday. I do believe that it is doing me some good. I surely hope that it is.

I have a couple or three more belated birthday thank yous: my thanks to my mom, and to Larne Pekowsky and Gordon Duke. I hope I have forgotten no one. And this reminds me, Spooky's (humglum) 37th is coming up fast (June 24th!), and she also has an Amazon wishlist, if anyone is so kindly disposed.

We had a longish walk yesterday. The sky was threatening rain, weighted with the dark grey-blue fringes of Barry. Alas, all we got yesterday was a sprinkle or two, and this morning the sun and smoke are back. But the walk was good. There was a cool, rain-scented wind, and I saw a bluebird. We walked through Freedom Park, as far west as Oakdale Road, before turning back for home. Spooky made her yummy pasta salad for dinner, plus marinated mushrooms, and later I even got a little reading done — "Reassessment of the Early Cretaceous sauropod Astrodon johnsoni Leidy 1865 (Titanosauriformes)," by Kenneth Carpenter and Virginia Tidwell.

Otherwise, the day was all Second Life. I spent most of it trying to get into trouble with blu_muse, wandering places that were far tamer than their names would lead one to believe. Then, last night, I...well, Nareth Nishi...got the job, pole dancing at a place called the Dark Goddess. If you're a Second Lifer (or decide today to become one), drop by tonight between the hours of nine and eleven (EST; six to eight PST) and give a girl a tip. How else will you ever see me fire-dancing semi-nude? Not in this First Life, that's for sure. I have to try to score some new clothes today, so I won't be dancing every evening in the same outfit. Oh, and Spooky has also taken a Second Life alter-ego, name of Artemisia Paine. But she's kind of a punk.

Tomorrow, maybe I'll make an actual writing post, as there's something writerly I've been meaning to talk about and it will be time to start thinking about First Life work again...