Caitlín R. Kiernan

Spooky's getting ready to take Sméagol back to the vet, because the abscess on his foot has turned into cellulitis. He's spry and eating, no fever and seems to be in no pain, but obviously we're worried (and never mind the damned vet bills). Oh, now Spooky's gone. Well, there you go.

The last couple of days I haven't been in that blogging frame of mind, whatever that blogging frame of mind might be. I think there was a post con crash, which happens sometimes. I'm on for three days, then suddenly I'm off. I'm surrounded by people for three days, then suddenly I'm my old reclusive self again. It didn't help that the last panel I had for Readercon 21, the "Gender and Sexuality in F/SF" late on Sunday, left such a bad taste in my mouth. I keep thinking of things I wish I'd said to the idiot who accused us of being "selfish" for not taking the feelings of readers into account when writing taboo subjects (lesbianism, it seems, is a taboo subject). I wish that I'd said, "Look, asshole. I will never make enough money to own a house. My teeth are shot. I can barely pay my bills. I have no health insurance, and I'll never be able to retire, ever. Writing almost every day for eighteen years has left me with a wrecked body and shot nerves. I need new glasses and can't afford them. The stress of this life led to seizures that have led to the need for medications I can't afford, but have to have, regardless. So, shut the hell up, you tight-assed little twerp, and let me write whatever it is I need to write. It's the only solace I have in this shitty job. I spent four hundred dollars I haven't got to attend this convention, and I'm not paying for the privilege of being called selfish by fools like you." Or something like that.

And I'm not going to start in on the two or three people (all female) who thought books need "warning labels," like "the ingredients list on food," so they wouldn't come upon a scene that offended their precious, fragile sensibilities. And why the fuck am I on about this again?

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A good writing day yesterday. I did 1,644 words on the Next New Novel, beginning it for the third time. I'll say more about this situation in a few days, when I feel a little more self confident.

Later, we stopped by the farmer's market at the Dexter Training Grounds for fresh corn, and I finally got a new office/writing chair. The one I've had since 2003 or 2004 was, literally, falling apart, and doing horrible things to my back. And by the way, I'm going to make an effort not to talk so much about health and money problems here. It's something I personally find gauche, and would prefer not to ever do. There's just been so damn much of it lately.

Spooky has begun a new round of eBay auctions, which are important, as we have to cover the cost of Readercon and Sméagol's vet bills. So, please have a look. Bid if you are able. In particular, there's the Salammbô T-shirt (art by the astounding Richard A. Kirk), one of the last from the batch of 500 that were printed in 2000 to promote the original release of Tales of Pain and Wonder. We only have four left. We began this auction a couple of weeks ago, then ended it, because I didn't really have time to promote the item. If you're interested in rare stuff related to my work, this is one of the rarest you're going to come across, ever.

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The last few days, besides writing and house cleaning and cat doctoring, we've been watching Season Two of 24 and Season One of Nip/Tuck. I've been reading Angela Carter's exquisite Wise Children (1991; Kathe Koja's Under the Poppy is next). We've played a little WoW, still trying to get Shah and Suraa through Icecrown. I've been making my way through the latest Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, and read "Tetrapod fauna of the lowermost Usili Formation (Songea Group, Ruhuhu Basin) of southern Tanzania, with a new burnetiid record" and "A new and unusual procolophonid parareptile from the Lower Permian of Texas." I've mostly been sleeping well.

Yesterday, there was cautious relief at the news that BP's latest cap tests have temporarily staunched the flow of oil into the Gulf of Mexico. But I get the impression a lot of people think this means the oil isn't going to start flowing again (though even BP has stressed that it will). And, of course, even if no new oil were to enter the Gulf after today, there's presently almost 200 million gallons of oil befouling the area affected by the petrocalamity.

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On Tuesday, we took in a matinée of Nimród Antal's Predators, which Spooky and I both enjoyed very much. My complaints are few. I would have liked it to be maybe half an hour longer, as it seemed a little rushed. But the creatures SFX were very good, and I can't get enough of Adrien Brody. John Debney's soundtrack was quite effective. Definitely a film that needs to be seen on a big screen. It's great fun, and I was in need of a Big Monster Movie that's great fun.

We also finally saw the Doctor Who "The End of Time" episodes. I thought the first half was a bit silly, but loved the second half. Has a doctor ever before refused so vehemently to go quietly into that gentle night? I'm going to miss David Tenant something fierce.

Okay...far too long an entry. The platypus says no one's going to read all this. I replied that I will, one year from now.

I think Spooky and I just unintentionally wrote a Muppet sex ed film. And I'm afraid those images will be with me forever.

Yesterday, well...yesterday was a very strange writing day. I sat down to get back to work on "The Maltese Unicorn." I read over what had been written so far, and suddenly the whole thing felt terribly off kilter. For starters, I was only a third of the way into the story, at best, and yet I was about halfway to the maximum word count. Truthfully, as the story was being written, the way I was writing it, it wanted to be a 30,000-word novella. It has to be, instead, a 10,000 word short story. The biggest problem was the frame, set at the Drancy Transit Camp outside of Paris in 1941, six years after the events of the story proper. When I began work on the story, I thought the frame was necessary. But suddenly it seemed utterly superfluous. Worse, the front end of the frame had already devoured almost 2,000 words, and there would still be the back end of the frame to cope with at the end of the story. I knew that would need, at minimum, another 500 words.

I spent about an hour talking to Spooky— well, it was more like ranting madly at Spooky —trying desperately to figure out how to "fix" the story as quickly and efficiently as possible. And, finally, I made the decision to, in essence, decapitate it. Lop off the frame, the first section, then surgically remove all references back to the frame. I have never really done anything of this sort, and it's an understatement to say I found it terrifying. This morning, it's still terrifying. Late yesterday, I shortened the story by about 2,500 words, and smoothed away most of the rough edges left by the edit. I read it through to Spooky again, and it seemed to work better— though the tone had been altered, and the story was suddenly not nearly so dark as it had been (not a good thing). Today, I'm going to sit down and expand the opening paragraphs, restoring some of the set up that was originally in the "frame" section, before proceeding with that part of the story (the middle and ending) that has yet to be written.

Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Thanks.

Last night, we watched the new episode of Glee. It's the first episode that really hasn't worked for me. Too many "what the fuck" moments, and it wasn't the good sort of "what the fuck." It was more the sort that left me wanting to wash my brain. Though, Brittany wearing her cheerleader uniform backwards, that almost made up for it. Oh, and Sue Sylvester. Later, I finished reading the graphic-novel adaptation of "The Call of Cthulhu," illustrated by Michael Zigerlig (with an introduction by H.R. Giger).

The weather is warming up again here in Providence. It's sunny, though windy. We're supposed to reach 69F today, and low 70sF tomorrow.

Day before yesterday, I wrote 812 words on "Tempest Witch." I may or may not be changing the title to "The Sea Witch," after discovering that's the correct name of the Frazetta painting upon which the vignette is based (also, it was painted in 1966, though not published until 1967). Yesterday, I wrote nothing, as I had an appointment with my psychiatrist, and those always throw days into disarray. But any day I see my psychiatrist and she lets me come home afterward, I count as a good day. I did get a lot of reading done yesterday, all research for "The Maltese Unicorn."

The eBay auction for a copy of The Five of Cups ends in a couple of hours. Remember, it'll be a while before you see another from me. This novel has been out of print since 2003.

It feels as though I've been watching an awful lot of "television" lately. I used the qualifying quotation marks because we don't actually watch television, but use Spooky's laptop to stream from Hulu and Netflix, and we watch a lot of DVDs. On Tuesday night, we saw Dr. Who: The Waters of Mars. Wednesday night, there was the new episode of Glee, which was great, even if there was a cover of "Jessie's Girl" (ew, ick) and even if we did have to suffer through Kurt's rendition of "Little Pink Houses." Last night, there was the very, very excellent new episode of Fringe. We also watched Michael and Peter Spierig's Daybreakers (2009). Not a great film, but a good film. Nice eye candy, which is the very least I ask of a vampire film (and which few ever deliver). Indeed, it's the only good vampire film I've seen since 2008's Låt den rätte komma in (which was much superior to Daybreakers, but still). So, yes, lots of watching.

Also, last night, I did something I swore I'd never, ever do. I rolled a gnome on WoW. A female gnome warrior. I fucking hate gnomes. And, yet, I did it anyway. Spooky and I had been joking around with silly gnome names the night before. I couldn't resist creating a character named Gnomnclature. Spooky matched me by creating a male gnome warlock named Klausgnomi. Last night, I leveled Gnomnclature almost all the way to Level 9. Man, I remember when the first ten levels were not half so easy as they are now (and when you didn't get a mount until Level 40). I suppose Blizzard figures they'll be able to create more addicts...um...I mean players...if lazy-ass, easily discouraged, free-trial players are given a cushy ride at the start. I might actually level Gnomnclature as far as 20, so she can get a mount and join the Knights of Good.

The platypus says that's enough, and I argue at the risk of losing another finger.

A sunny day so far here in Providence, though there may be thunderstorms this afternoon. Still, we were told we'd have a cloudy, rainy day in the mid-fifties, and, instead, we've gotten a sunny morning in the mid-sixties, so that's not so bad.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,243 words on a piece that I actually began, and then shelved, back in March. It was originally called "Untitled 37," but I've retitled it "Three Months, Three Scenes, With Snow." It will be appearing in Sirenia Digest #53 at the end of the month. I think I like where it's going. Spooky does, and usually she's a better judge of these things than I am.

Looking back over the last couple of months, so very little has been written. It's a bit terrifying. So much has to be written in the next few months.

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On Tuesday, we saw Matthew Vaughn's Kick-Ass, and I truly loved it. The pacing was a bit off towards the beginning, but that's really the only complaint I can muster. This film is a fine example of how a studio may have no idea whatsoever when it comes to marketing a film. The trailers gave me the impression it would be a light-hearted superhero spoof. Nope. It's something far worse and something far better. Chloë Moretz' "Hit-Girl" will surely be one of this years most memorable film characters. Great movie. Highly recommended. Just keep in mind that it's rated R for a reason.

Spooky's been watching Glee and enjoying it. Last night, I watched the "Power of Madonna" episode with her and...to my great surprise...loved it. Then I watched "Hairology," because I wanted to see if the newest episode was a fluke, but no, I liked it, as well. Let's just say I'm still a little weirded out. Sue Sylvester rules.

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Spooky's been making some really wonderful pendants from beach glass ("mermaid's tears") I've collected since coming to Rhode Island. She's sold four of them in the past two days, almost as quickly as she can make them. You can see the one's that have not yet sold here, at her Dreaming Squid Dollworks Etsy shop.

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Today, I find that I'm not up to my annual Earth Day post. I just don't have the heart for it. I will merely note that the human population now stands at 6,816,419,848 (up about one hundred million since last year), and that the US population has risen to 309,118,407.* I will also note the issue of carrying capacity, and that, as far as Homo sapiens is concerned, the Earth’s carrying capacity is estimated by ecologists to be about two billion people (which we reached in 1927). So, we're 4,816,419,848 humans over the line. No species may indefinitely defy the carrying capacity of its environment. Not even clever humans. Sooner or later, this will end.

* courtesy the US Census Bureau's US and World Population clocks.

1. This is turning into one of those spells of insomnia. As best I can recall, I've had one good night's sleep in the last week, on the "morning" of the 27th of February. Last night, this morning, I got about six hours. I suspect there are many reasons I'm not sleeping, none of which I should go into here. But it has me ill. I spent most of Sunday and Monday in bed— not sleeping, just too exhausted to get up and fucking do anything. Yesterday, Spooky and I were supposed to go to Boston to meet Sonya (sovay) and Greer (ninweaving) for a day at the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology. But, on Monday, I postponed the trip, knowing what lousy company I would have made, being sleepless and zombified and all.

2. Today, the sky is grey again and spitting snow. I suppose that's to make up for our having gotten a sunny day yesterday, one in a week. But, we did take advantage of yesterday. If I couldn't have Harvard, I could at least have Benefit Street. Spooky made me get dressed and shooed me out the door into the faint warmth of the early March sunshine. We parked near the John Brown House and walked to the RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) Museum. I'd never been, and Spooky had not visited the museum in many years. The collection is small, but exquisite. Just inside the entrance I was greeted with the work of some of my favorite painters, including Winslow Homer and John Singer Sargent. There was an amazing Art Nouveau fireplace surround by Hugnet Frères (1900), and two galleries of impressionist paintings and sculpture, including work by Monet, Degas, Manet, Gaugin, Renoir, and Pissarro. There was a fabulous chandelier by Dale Chihuly, that looked like something dredged up from the bottom of the Mariana Trench. And so much more. After the museum, we spent some time across the street at the Providence Athenaeum, just reading and Not Being in the House. It wasn't the Tuesday Out that I'd hoped for, but it was a good day, regardless. I'll post photos in two sets, one today and one tomorrow. Today's are of Benefit Street, and tomorrow's will be photos I took inside the museum:

( 2 March 2010, part 1 )

3. Sunday and Monday, too weary to read or be read to, I watched stuff. There was a charming little film about demons, Travis Betz' Lo (2009), which was sort of like discovering a lost or forgotten stand-alone episode of Angel. I recommend it highly.

Also, we watched the first six episodes of Spartacus: Blood and Sand. Now, as most know, I am a longtime admirer of good and/or entertaining pornography. Which is pretty much what Spartacus: Blood and Sand amounts to, a moderately entertaining pornography of sex, blood, and violence. Sure, its look is an uneven fusion of 300 and Gladiator (I found entire lines of dialogue lifted from the latter). Someone commenting about the show at Netflix wrote, "Fantastically terrible, but somehow I can't stop watching it...full of horrible dialogue and gimmicky effects, but if you embrace and accept the cheese-factor, it's kind of rad." Which just about says it all. Well, except for the pornography part, but I already said that. Do people actually still say "rad"?

Late last night, we watched Andrew Leman's 2005 "silent film" adaptation of The Call of Cthulhu again. I still say that this is, by far, the best film adaptation of any of Lovecraft's fiction to date.

4. I've pretty much been away from WoW for the better part of two months. Night before last, I went back in as my blood-elf warlock, Shaharrazad, and did the retaking of Undercity thing with Thrall and Sylvanus. It was fun, though not nearly as cool as I'd hoped it would be. Last night, Shah made Level 76. I'd like to get her to 80 before the release of Catacylsm, and before the events leading up to it begin this coming summer.

5. Okay. I need to try to wake up enough to get some work done. I can at least tend to email and deal with the signature sheets for The Ammonite Violin and Others, which I need to sign and get back into mail to Subterranean Press.

1. I made a truly baffling error regarding the population of Haiti yesterday. I said it was about three million, when it's more like ten. I still don't know where I got that figure. Anyway, I'm trying to stay abreast of the events in Haiti, but I think I've seen too much already. It's a level of devastation and personal suffering that our minds can only just begin to comprehend, I think. Also, yesterday I stated that casualties were estimated at somewhere between 100k and 500k. The lower number came from CNN, the larger from the APA. Someone questioned the numbers (which is fair, seeing how I somehow lost seven million Haitians). I just found the following in a CNN article posted bout an hour or so ago: "Precise casualty estimates were impossible to determine. Haitian President Rene Preval said Wednesday that he had heard estimates of up to 50,000 dead but that it was too early to know for sure. The Haitian prime minister said he worries that several hundred thousand people were killed." Truth is, it's going to be a long time before there's a solid estimate, and the true number will not ever be known. I will also say that I have been disappointed with President Obama in several respects— most notably the joke (really, worse than a joke) that he's allowed health-care reform to become through successive compromises. But I have to say, I admire his response to the Haitian disaster.

2. There's not a lot to say about yesterday. I answered email. I bathed and washed my hair. I went to the market with Spooky, and we had leftover chili for dinner.

3. Last night, we watched Pete Docter and Bob Peterson's Up. While I think I liked it more than did readingthedark (we talked about it this past weekend), it's far from the best Pixar's done. The first fifteen or twenty minutes were marvelous, and would have made a wonderful short. But the rest of the film just sort of careened about, bumping off itself and doing these weird somersaults. In some ways, the film was swamped by the perceived necessity for a clever, action-packed plot. Ratatouille (2007) remains Pixar's masterpiece, the one they have to beat to make a better film than their best.

4. Spooky found a rather nice piece yesterday on Fringe at i09, which I think manages to put its finger on one of the reasons I've come to love the show. Specifically, how Fringe uses bad science and pseudoscience to make real science interesting, how it catches the spirit of real science, and also the spirit of that time before sf was more obsessed with trying to get the science right than conveying wonder and awe at the intricacies of the universe.

5. Before the movie last night, I got in about two good hours of rp in Second Life. I've learned that it works best the smaller the group, so right now it's just me and one other, letting our characters grow, fleshing out backstory, only tentatively making contact with other players. Mostly, it's conversation (which is always the best rp, anyway). Thanks, Melissa. That rough spot in me is being soothed just a little by this.

6. And now I should go. Geoffrey will be here sometime after two, and we need to leave for Brooklyn about 2:30 p.m. (CaST). We're driving to New Haven, then taking the commuter rail into Manhattan, and then the subway to Brooklyn. We hope to be home by four a.m. or so on Saturday morning. See you afterwards.

The insomnia came back last night. I was still wide awake at 4 a.m., when I finally gave up and took Ambien. I think I slept about six hours. I function far better on nine.

Yesterday, when I wasn't busy slamming New Moon, Mormons, and Americans who are more comfortable with a 1.9 trillion dollar war bill for our occupation of Iraq than a 1 trillion dollar bill for health care overhaul...when I wasn't doing all that...mouthing off, so to speak...I was writing. I managed 1,003 words on "Sanderlings" (formerly "Teratophobia").

Roger Ebert's review of New Moon is actually rather priceless. He gives it one star out of four. I was pleased to see that the film currently has only a 4.4 rating at imbd, and that it's not fairing so well over at Rotten Tomatoes, either. Of course, this is mere criticism. The film broke all box office records on Friday, and is likely to break the opening weekend record. So, lots of happy studio execs and queer-hating Mormons getting the last laugh. Tiddley pom.

Truthfully, I think I need to go back to feigning indifference and keeping my social and political ruminations to myself. Because, face it. Yes, I am a fatalist and a pessimist. There's nothing I can do to make much of anything better, and on those rare occasions when I try, I usually only manage to make things worse for myself. For example, yesterday I probably managed to do very little but piss a few people off and discover that an enormous number of folks on Twitter no longer know (or never knew) the definition of irony. The second bit upsets me far more than the former. Anyway, yeah. Less politics and critique. This is your world. I leave you to it. I'll write about my writing, and comment on movies I've seen and books I've read, and post pretty photographs of Rhode Island. The rest I leave to others.

It's cold here in Providence. Truthfully, I wish the snows would come. The cold is less depressing when there's snow. The snow takes away all the sharp edges.

We've begun a new mini-round of eBay auctions. Please have a look, and thank you. Also, a reminder that Subterranean Press has begun taking pre-orders for The Ammonite Violin & Others.

Last night, we suffered through the third extremely dull episode of the reamke of V (it really isn't getting any better), and then watched Adam Green and Joel Moore's Spiral (2007), a surprisingly good little thriller. Frankly, I miss flipping channels. Now, instead of flipping channels looking for something worth watching, we flip through the streamable (new word, I suppose) films at Netflix. Last night, we searched through them for almost an hour before finding Spiral.

And now, more photos from Green Hill. Today is documentation of the "starfish apocalypse." Actually, I was annoyed to discover that by the time we reached that part of the beach most blanketed in dead starfish, we'd evidently tired of photographing them. But this gives you some impression. We must have seen hundreds, which means there were probably thousands. I was thinking about this yesterday, and it occurred to me that we likely were not seeing starfish that had died in a single stranding, but the effects of multiple strandings, maybe many days' worth. After all, it's probable that a portion of the starfish that perish during any given low tide would not be washed out to sea on the next high tide, that, over time, an accumulation would occur. Anyway, yes, photos:

( 18 November 2009, Part 4 )

A chilly, cloudy day here in Providence. I suppose one would simply say, an autumn day. But the sort that is chilly and cloudy, instead of sunny and crisp and plagued by carnivorous blue skies. Again, as almost all of yesterday was spent in bed, there's not too much to write about. I am feeling quite a bit better today. Maybe by Monday I'll be as near to one hundred percent as I ever get these days.

And I wish I had grand insights into writing to put down here this afternoon. I'd feel less like a bum if I did. It would be something I could pretend was work. But I don't. I can say that I'm bored, and that's about it.

The South County Independent article/interview in now online, and it's also in the hard copy that came out yesterday. Mostly, I talk about The Red Tree and Rhode Island.

The tree outside my window is still green. Most on this street aren't. Many have already lost their leaves.

Vince has delivered the final version of his illustration for Sirenia Digest #47, and I like it very, very much. I'm hoping I can get the digest out tomorrow, but it might be as late as Monday, so I ask for your patience.

The eBay auctions continue. Please have a look.

Yesterday, the postman brought my comp copy of the new Italian translation of The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance (UK/American editions, 2008), which is titled L'ora Dei Vampiri. I still find the inclusion of two of my stories in the volume rather amusing. "Ode to Edvard Munch" and "Untitled 12" in a book of vamp-flavored paranormal romance. Or, two of these things are not like the others. I remain impressed that the editor asked to include them.

Late yesterday, Spooky convinced me to get up and go with her to the last day of this autumn's farmer's market at the Dexter Training Grounds by the Armory. I was glad that I did. The air did me good. I picked up chestnuts and admired baskets of peppers. There are photos behind the cut (below).

Last night, on beyond bored, I convinced Spooky that we should spend the evening binging on Hallowe'en-appropriate movies and whatnot. First, we watched David Moreau and Xavier Palud's Ils (2006; US title, Them). It was very, very good, and made especially effective use of sound. A wonderfully disturbing thriller which I recommend. I cannot say the same for Dario Argento's Jenifer, yet another installment in the lamentable "Masters of Horror" series. I'm not even convinced that Argento directed it. The film didn't look like Argento, or feel like Argento. It was utterly, stupidly awful, and dull, and vapid— the sort of thing that panders to the maladjusted fourteen-year-old boy in far too many adult horror fans. By the third obligatory sex scene (or the second obligatory and unconvincing disemboweling, I can't recall), I was nodding off. Anyway, we followed that with the Hallowe'en episode of Castle. It's the first I'd seen of the series. It wasn't bad, so long as it was only trying to be funny. But when it tried to play "detective series with a straight face," the whole thing fell apart. Still, any excuse to watch Nathan Fillion. And after that, we watched the last two episodes of Angel, "Power Play" and "Not Fade Away," which I love more with each new viewing.

Anyway, here are the photos from yesterday:

( 29 October 2009 )

We've had our first real cold snap of the year, here in Providence.

My thanks to everyone who commented to yesterday's entry. I would have replied to more of the comments, but the entry itself left me somewhat wiped out, and I was more interested in seeing replies than saying anything more myself. Having written it, I felt an odd alloy of relief (that I have begun to realize just how dead the Old Way is, which makes me able to adapt) and despair (that the Old Way I was taught would work really is dead, so now I've had to adapt). I'll probably write a follow-up entry at some point. Just not today.

Yesterday was not productive. I sat at the keyboard all day, thinking about what I'd written, about what I'd read from others who are in the same predicament in which I find myself, about survival under the New Way, and it sort of locked me up. Today, I can't lock up. Today I have to finish tweaking the ms. for The Ammonite Violin & Others and get it to Subterranean Press. The signed contracts went out to subpress yesterday.

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Yesterday, I read Tim Pratt's very flattering review of The Red Tree in the new issue (October) of Locus magazine. I will quote the last bit, as a fetish against all the pitfalls this Friday afternoon may hold in store for me, as a tonic to help get me through the day:

You may find your mind returning frequently to this tale, attempting to reconcile the irreconcilable, and you may find yourself, like me, bowing to Kiernan's artistry, and her ability to create Mystery. This is her most personal, ambitious, and accomplished work yet.

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Escape Pod's reading of "Ode to Katan Amano" is now live. Please check it out. I sat and listened to it this morning, and I am very pleased with what I heard. This is the first time I've had a story adapted for a podcast, and I think it has encouraged me to pursue other such adaptations. Oh, and you get a bit of Daikaiju (who we actually got to see play in Atlanta years ago) and Jonathan Coulton's "Creepy Doll," as well. You'll also learn just a little about who Katan Amano was, and that pleases me, as well.

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There's another new interview up, this one at Reflection's Edge Magazine. My thanks to Shennandoah Diaz.

Also, please have a look at Spooky's Etsy shop, Dreaming Squid Dollworks, as she's getting lots of awesome new stuff up for Hallowe'en.

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Last night, we streamed..well, lots of things. I'm watching too much and reading too little. But at least we're watching good stuff. We started with the final episode of Dead Like Me, then moved on to more Weeds, and then the Season Four premiere of Dexter, and then three more episodes of Weeds. I was going to make a pie, but decided I'd best wait until another night. I didn't get to sleep until almost four a.m.

Not a whole lot to write about, as regards yesterday. At least not, as regards writing. Since I didn't write yesterday.

Spooky and I chose Beavertail for our Mabon ritual. Last year we went farther east, out to Fort Weatherill. The weather was cloudy yesterday, and windy, but not cold. We found a good flat place on the rocks north of the lighthouse. No one nearby except a few fisherman. Sailboats in the bay. Gulls and cormorants.

Afterwards, we drove to Saundertown to visit Spooky's mom and dad (and get eggs and basil, squash and tomatoes). On the way back to Providence, we stopped to watch the sunset over a pumpkin patch north of Slocum. It was a good day. Autumn is not my season, but if it must come, it should be embraced.

There are photographs:

( Mabon '09 )

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Last night, we watched the Season premiere of Heroes. I liked the introduction of the carnival, and I still adore Zachary Quinto. But mostly, the show is what the show has always been. Not really good, just entertaining enough to keep you watching. Later, Spooky and I got in some WoW in the Badlands, with our Draenei characters, and we both reached Level 42.