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I woke at 9 frelling a.m., got up and sat at the desk a few minutes, then said screw it, it's my gorram birthday and went back to bed. And woke at 11 with Sophie's blood sugar too high because she was supposed to get her breakfast and insulin at 10:30, and Spooky's a little freaked out, and this is what I get for sleeping in (and letting her do likewise). *sigh* Anyway, here it is. -2. Last night, I was thinking, wow, I was technically alive when John F. Kennedy was president. I was born about six months after his assassination. Which world is this again?
Time is a heavy damn rock.
My thanks to everyone who has sent well-wishes and/or gifts (and thanks to those who have yet to do so). Special thanks to Gordon (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thingunderthest), Jada and Katharine (jadakath), Franklin (grandmofhelsing), Larne (brokensymmetry), David (corucia), Christa (faustfatale), William, Adelaida, Charlie, Amy, Sonya (sovay), and Jackie. Biggest thanks to Spooky. You guys make me feel not so alone as the days rush by.
Yesterday was spent proofreading and editing "Ode to Edvard Munch" and "The Black Alphabet" for Sirenia Digest #6. And, again, I must say, I'm really happy about the latter. So is Spooky. Now, I just hope others feel the same way. It's like a box of chocolate cordials, and some are very sweet, and others are only strangely spicy inside, and others, well, you'll see. If you've subscribed. Also, late last night, I got Vince's rough sketch for the "Ode to Edvard Munch" illustration, and it's gorgeous.
I also cleaned my office. Sort of. Which is to say I could not be bothered to dust nor to sweep. It's still a vast improvement.
I'm still trying to decide what's to become of my MySpace account and my silly Amazon.com "plog." I just can seem to bring myself to give publication rights for my journal entries to those asshole corporations for frelling free. Especially with MySpace being owned by Rupert Murdoch. I suspect they shall both simply sit there, gathering dust until I've forgotten about them.
Last night, another favourite ep of Farscape ("A Constellation of Doubt"), followed by the final three eps of Dead Like Me. On the one hand, I'm quite sad that there will be no more George and no more Rube and no more Mason and so on. But on the other, I thought the last ep ("Haunted") wrapped things up rather artfully. I don't know if that was intentional or not, if the creators knew the cancellation was coming. But that last ep works well as an ending. Which makes it not quite so bad. I just cannot abide unfinished stories.
At 2:30, I was in bed (isn't this where we came in), reading a redescription of the theropods Ornitholestes and Coelurus, my eyes crossing with exhaustion. Zoe Keating on the little Hello Kitty stereo thingy we keep in the bedroom. A thunderstorm approaching. It wasn't such a bad way to begin one's -2 birthday.
Time is a heavy damn rock.
My thanks to everyone who has sent well-wishes and/or gifts (and thanks to those who have yet to do so). Special thanks to Gordon (
thingunderthest), Jada and Katharine (jadakath), Franklin (grandmofhelsing), Larne (brokensymmetry), David (corucia), Christa (faustfatale), William, Adelaida, Charlie, Amy, Sonya (sovay), and Jackie. Biggest thanks to Spooky. You guys make me feel not so alone as the days rush by.Yesterday was spent proofreading and editing "Ode to Edvard Munch" and "The Black Alphabet" for Sirenia Digest #6. And, again, I must say, I'm really happy about the latter. So is Spooky. Now, I just hope others feel the same way. It's like a box of chocolate cordials, and some are very sweet, and others are only strangely spicy inside, and others, well, you'll see. If you've subscribed. Also, late last night, I got Vince's rough sketch for the "Ode to Edvard Munch" illustration, and it's gorgeous.
I also cleaned my office. Sort of. Which is to say I could not be bothered to dust nor to sweep. It's still a vast improvement.
I'm still trying to decide what's to become of my MySpace account and my silly Amazon.com "plog." I just can seem to bring myself to give publication rights for my journal entries to those asshole corporations for frelling free. Especially with MySpace being owned by Rupert Murdoch. I suspect they shall both simply sit there, gathering dust until I've forgotten about them.
Last night, another favourite ep of Farscape ("A Constellation of Doubt"), followed by the final three eps of Dead Like Me. On the one hand, I'm quite sad that there will be no more George and no more Rube and no more Mason and so on. But on the other, I thought the last ep ("Haunted") wrapped things up rather artfully. I don't know if that was intentional or not, if the creators knew the cancellation was coming. But that last ep works well as an ending. Which makes it not quite so bad. I just cannot abide unfinished stories.
At 2:30, I was in bed (isn't this where we came in), reading a redescription of the theropods Ornitholestes and Coelurus, my eyes crossing with exhaustion. Zoe Keating on the little Hello Kitty stereo thingy we keep in the bedroom. A thunderstorm approaching. It wasn't such a bad way to begin one's -2 birthday.
