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I reached the eastern banks of the Caranduin sometime in the dead of night. I collapsed among the briers and a stunted grove of trees, too tired to even be bothered with a fire, though happy for the faint relief accompanying the sight of the moon, three nights past full, glittering upon the wide river. But now the sun is risen and another day's heat has begun, and I find myself too weary to go any farther at the present. From here on, I shall travel by night, conserving my strength. At least I shall not want for water, so long as I follow the Caranduin. Still, despair seems nigh, and I fear it will claim me ere long. In the flight from the burning ship, I gave up both my armor and sword, for I knew the swim would be long. But I have tried to console myself with the knowledge that at least I am not wandering here entirely without direction in this foetid land. I cannot be more than ten leagues north of the sea, surely, which gives me some guess at how far north I must follow the river to gain the foothills of the Mithrim Spur. Am I still pursued? I cannot say with any certainty, but I have seen no certain evidence of it. Nor have I sighted crows or orcs. If [livejournal.com profile] setsuled still dogs my steps, he has become more cautious. I close my eyes to the heat of midday and try only to think on the face of my fair Inwë. Whatever my fate, she is safe with her people in the vales of Mirkwood. I await some reassuring sign. Is that...Yes, I hear hoof beats.

---

I got news this morning that "Houses Under the Sea" has been selected for The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror #18. This pleases me. "Houses Under the Sea" is, I think, one of my very best short stories. Considering that "Pony" was chosen for the 2007 edition of Horror: The Best of the Year, and that "Bainbridge" made the very short recommended reading list in Best American Fantasy, I didn't do so bad for myself last year, short fiction-wise.

According to the May 2007 issue of Locus, Meisha Merlin Publishing is no more. I was briefly concerned about the legal status of Tales of Pain and Wonder, but then was relieved to read my contract and discover that my agreement with MMP expired in January and all rights have reverted to me. I see that used copies are going for truly exorbitant prices on Amazon. I am talking with Merrilee about the collection's future, looking at options, one of which is still the e-text I've been planning.

I spent four hours yesterday sitting here staring at the iMac's screen, trying to find the start of a vignette. Maybe it will come today. No news from HarperCollins, and I suspect there will not be until at least Monday, so I still am unable to get back to the revisions. I've half a mind to fuck off and spend the day at Oakgrove Cemetery. The weather is cool, and it would be better than sitting here. Yesterday was the first day all month to earn an L.

Last night, we watched the Bros. Quay's The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes (2005), followed by Sion Sono's Kimyô na sâkasu (also 2005).

Okay. Time to wrap this up. The platypus is not a happy camper. But hesheit says that the 18th of May, should it happen to fall on a Friday two nights past the new moon, is the absolute perfect time to subscribe to Sirenia Digest.
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Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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