The water is rising. You try to rappel.

It's Sunday morning, and once again the Xtians are wailing "gospel" through loudspeakers. All the dogs on the street have started to howl. I shit you not.

Yesterday, we read back over "In the Dreamtime of Lady Resurrection" and the first fifty pages of The Dinosaurs of Mars, two very different beasts. Afterwards, I did some polishing on the former, and I think it still needs just a little more, but I went ahead and emailed it to Vince for illustrating. I also attended to some neglected email. I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen today. More of the same, whichever way it goes.

Later, I had a New Babbage town meeting to attend in Second Life, followed by a virtual vaudeville show in the New Babbage stockyards. The trained humans were quite good, and the dancing hippo amused me, as well. Then we installed the spiral staircase in the Palaeozoic Museum and worked some on the mezzanine. And that was my yesterday, near as I can recall.

I get into terrible, senseless funks over hardly ever leaving the house, much less the neighborhood. And then I stop and consider my options, which is to say — my options without burning the hydrocarbons needed to drive a day and a half northeast or several days west, and the funk dissolves into simple despair. And that's somehow better, really.

My life seems less and less part of some objective reality, and more and more like a peculiar tributary in some unfortunate dream. Well, perhaps not unfortunate. Perhaps merely ill considered.

Time to make the doughnuts.