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Late yesterday, we drove down to Kathryn's parents' place, where we filmed last weekend. I'd hoped being away from the city might help the darkness that's been creeping back over me the past week or so. I know the meds are still working, even if it feels like they're not. Anyway, yeah, so we went to the farm. And at first I did have hope. I napped yesterday evening in the room I find safe and peaceful. But that was it. There was nothing else about the visit that helped, and that brief lifting of the veil dissolved very quickly.

But I did see a sky with far less light pollution. The stars I half forget are there to provide perspective. Which I suspect is one of the main reasons human beings are spewing so much energy to drive away the night. They know what the stars mean (even if only unconsciously, in that hindmost reptilian-part of their brains), and it terrifies them. At four-thirty ayem, I was watching the moon rise through the trees.

We played with the great beast that is Spider Cat. We fed the chickens. We saw deer. The frog that lives in the koi pond. The apple trees dying for another winter.

None of it did much of anything for the anger and blackness. Every year, there are fewer and fewer things that help. There is a darkness the meds can never touch, and even my psychiatrist knows that. Kathryn certainly knows. I'd burn it out if I could. I'd fill my eyes with the sheep-blank stares I see on most human faces, or I'd fill it with the ancient sanity of starlight.

Okay, enough of that for now. I'd "friends lock" this, except it would still go up on Facebook and Twitter, and LJ seems to have made it impossible to shut off the cross-posting feature I switched on a long time ago.

I still find myself hating the iPad. I think some people have misunderstood. I do not hate the iPad because it is a device somehow substandard to similar mobile devices. I hate that I needed to waste money on it, and that, no matter how hard I struggle to the contrary, it will be the vehicle of additional time displacement. This has nothing to do with Apple. The iPad is all shiny shiny and shit. It works like a dream. It's just something no one* on earth needs (or anything similar manufactured by another company), no matter how much they may "need" it.

I still find myself loving the work we did last weekend, and missing everyone who was here and helped to make the magic.

I'm considering – well, actually in the earliest stages of planning – two more Kickstarter projects, both for 2012. Now that Spooky is entering the final stages of the process of completing our "Tale of the Ravens" project, and now that I see The Drowning Girl Kickstarter yielding such fruits as it is yielding. We have had such amazing success with Kickstarter (thank you). One would be a boxed, two volume limited-edition set of hardbacks of both The Red Tree and The Drowning Girl, with lots of tipped in color illustrations, facsimile documents, expanded text, appendices, and so forth (because, you know, there's time for these projects hemorrhaging from my asshole). It would be a very expensive undertaking, but it would be worth the expense and time, if I could make it happen. It would probably be limited to 500 signed and numbered copies. Maybe 26 lettered copies.

Anyway, the other project is one I actually began working on, conceptually, a year ago. A short film, a vignette of the sort you'd make of a Sirenia Digest vignette. A siren washed up and dying at the end of the world, and it might overlap territory explored in "The Bone's Prayer." That series of personal apocalypse stories. This would actually be a far simpler and far cheaper project than producing the books.

These are maybes.

Oh, we saw Kevin Smith's Red State last night, which I say is an unreservedly brilliant film, and which must be seen. Right now, Netflix is streaming it. It's a terrifying and sobering exploration of belief and the consequences of belief taken to extremes, the consequences of blindly following...anyone or anything. Only following orders. Only following a man. Only following a "god." There is a moment when the film almost veers into the supernatural that is the most genuinely chilling bit of film I've seen since Sauna.


*Amended to "not everyone."
greygirlbeast: (Default)
All the meds on earth cannot insulate against the inevitable black moods, bad days, slumps, funks— not even when those meds are working. Not when those moods spring from rational thought processes and informed perspectives. I still recall when I was much more guarded about what I said here.

Yesterday, instead of trying to find a new head and shoulders of "The Maltese Unicorn," I attempted to move forward. This is an inherently unnatural way for me to work. I cannot work in bits and pieces. I must start at the beginning and proceed to the conclusion. But I tried, anyway. I wrote 1,049 words that might be of some value. Today I'm taking the day off, to try to figure out how to salvage the mess, and to put some distance between myself and the story. Maybe things will look less bleak tomorrow.

Today, we're going to a matinée of Splice, which I have been eager to see since first hearing about it. I only wish my mood were better.

After all the writing yesterday, I took a cool bath, trying to avoid a nap. But I ended up dozing anyway, while Spooky was getting dinner ready. Later, we watched two of my favorite films, Bryan Singer's The Usual Suspects (1995) and Billy Wilder's Sunset Blvd. (1950).
greygirlbeast: (mirror2)
As of today, we have only ten days remaining until we leave for the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. A series of useless black days, precipitated, perhaps, by an unpleasant echo or repercusion, have cost me dearly. I've written nothing useful since finishing "The Cryomancer's Daughter (Murder Ballad No. 3)" on July 11th. I haven't even begun work on the copy-edited manuscript (CEM) of Daughter of Hounds, which I should have gotten to days ago, as it's supposed to be back in NYC on the 21st. But I am feeling better today, so it's possible all is not lost. Likely, this means I shall have to try to spend more of my time in New England writing. As for yesterday, I did some revision on "The Cryomancer's Daughter (Murder Ballad No. 3)," which will appear in Sirenia Digest #8. If you've not yet subscribed, please, please do.

After reading the cover story on the acquisition of by sleaze baron Rupert Murdoch in the July 2006 issue of Wired, I'm even more reluctant to do anything else with my MySpace page. But I also realize, having read said article, that if I neglect to take advantage of the exposure afforded by MySpace, just because it's tacky and annoying and I frelling loathe Murdoch and everything he represents, I'll be shooting myself in the foot (as "they" are wont to say). However, I'm going to talk with my agent about the wording of MySpace's TOS before I add any additional content to the site.

Nothing much else to say about yesterday. There was a trip out into the heat to Whole Foods, and I made a very nice balsamic vinaigrette. About 9 p.m., we walked through Freedom Park while the swallows and dragonflies circled and dove above us, and the sunset was spectacular. I wish I'd had the camera with me. It was still uncomfortably hot, but having seen what the heat's like out west, I'm grateful we're only having low and mid 90s. Last night was by far the best night's sleep I've had in a week or so, about seven and a half hours uninterrupted.

Today, I hope to get a good start on "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Ghoul," which will appear in Tales from the Woeful Platypus.

Okay. Time to make the doughnuts. Please have a look at the eBay auctions, all of which I believe will be ending tomorrow afternoon and Wednesday. Thanks.

Postscript: I've just noticed (12:55 p.m.) that there is now an Amazon page for Daughter of Hounds, though the release date is January 2, 2007. The cover's not up yet, but I expect it will be soon. Anyway, here's to head starts, and if anyone wants to preorder (the first printing will likely sell out before publication), there you go.


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Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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