greygirlbeast: (Chiana 6)
This is one of those rare mornings when I wake freezing, shivering, headachey, just shy of full-blown hypothermia, somehow having divested myself of all the blankets in the throes of this or that bad dream. And then I need two hours to get warm. Only, according to Spooky, I was actually being a bed hog, and if I'm cold it's my own damn fault.

Yesterday, I did an interview. An important interview. But I cannot yet say for whom or where it will appear. I will tell you as soon as I can. But it ate up more of the day than it should have. Also, I've gotten bloody sick of talking about myself. It's a little easier to talk about Imp or Sarah or Dancy, and almost as accurate since they're all overlapping aspects of me, anyway. To all prospective interviewers and would-be biographers of Me, I say to you, the only biography that's worth a good goddamn, the only truth-be-told, must first be filtered and fictionalized. You reduce the lives of women and men down to mere fact and history, and mostly you'll be left with the banal; if you're lucky, you'll get monotonous tragedy. Mythologize, though, and at least tragedy will seem noble, and even mundanity may be transformed and redeemed.

I am a writer, and my lot in life is to lie constantly, all the while never failing to tell the truth.

Today, I go back to work on "The Lost Language of Mollusca and Crustacea," and hopefully finish it. It will come in Sirenia Digest #73, with a great illustration by Vince Locke, plus Chapter Two of the original (scrapped) attempt to write Silk, plus (!, I hope) a new science-fiction story. I hope. Maybe.

Yesterday, I saw the colored pages for one of the Alabaster stories, colored by Rachelle Rosenberg, and wow.

An announcement. Every morning, or early afternoon, or mid afternoon, I spend anywhere from one to three hours on this journal. An hour and a half is about average, but let's say an hour, because round numbers are easier. That means I journalize seven hours a week, twenty-eight hours a month, three hundred and sixty-five hours a year (or about 15.2 days; and, in truth, a considerably larger sum). Think of all the stories or vignettes or work on novels I could get done in that time. And I've been doing this for more than eleven years, almost every single day! So, I'm thinking that after March, after the release of The Drowning Girl, I'm going to cease this every-goddamn-day blogging thing, this wearisome cataloging of the humdrum events of my humdrum life, and reserve the LJ for news of forthcoming books and of occasional interesting trips, saving untold hours that can be devoted to work, waking up, staring out the window, reading the day's news, et aliae. It's unlikely I'll change my mind.

It's looking now like the "teaser" trailer for The Drowning Girl will go live until January 3rd, due to web-design issues. We have everything in place, it just has to be assembled. The new front page of my website, that is. The thirty-second trailer is edited and ready to post (thank you, Brian!).

Yesterday, well, not much else to tell. I read a pretty good story by David Barr Kirtley (whom, I admit, I'd never heard of before), and before bed I read Stuart Moore's graphic-novel story loosely based on Thomas Ligotti's "The Last Feast of Harlequin (2007), as illustrated by Colleen Doran (I worked with her on an issue of The Dreaming, but, offhand, I can't recall which one). I napped. I watched a PBS documentary on the AZORIAN Project and the 1974 attempt to raise the sunken Soviet submarine K-129. I played Star Wars: The Old Republic. And there was other stuff.

And now, I go forth to think on bivalves and cephalopods.

Warm Now,
Aunt Beast
greygirlbeast: (Kraken)
First, because [ profile] docbrite posted one and I am a copycat, here's a map of all the US states I've visited. This summer, I'll be making Maine for the first time, and then, in the autumn, I'll get my first trip through Ohio, on the way to Minnesota. But, here's how it stands:

create your own personalized map of the USA

And now, a somewhat wonderful short film, The Anachronism:

The Anachronism (Full Film) from Anachronism Pictures on Vimeo.

greygirlbeast: (Middle Triassic)
Yeah, so...despite what people might think, whatever preconceived ideas might have been nurtured by the sort of erotica I write, it is only very rarely that I have sex dreams. That is, dreams with sexual content, much less dreams wherein I actually get any. This morning, however, I had what can only be described as a Buffy slash fic dream. Me and Willow (Alyson Hannigan). Only she was older, and was dressed very like Stevie Nicks (some might say this is a Wiccan's worst nightmare). And I was a werewolf. And just as things were getting interesting, Spooky (who'd been there all along, watching from the sidelines), told us we should both put our clothes back on. And we did. And then the dream headed off elsewhere. Spooky claims that I cannot hold her responsible for things she did in my dreams. I mean, to her credit, in her defence, it was my dream. But...I'm suspicious.

Yesterday? Exquisite. We left Providence sometime between 12:30 and 1 p.m. (CaST), and took 95 south and then west out of Rhode Island and into Connecticut. It was cold, but there were clouds to hide the sky. I'd brought Lovecraft along, just in case I needed something to read, to keep my eyes off the blue sky. But the clouds were there to keep it at bay. We reached New Haven about 2:30 p.m. (CaST). Upon reaching the Yale campus, our first destination was the Grove Street Cemetery (organized in 1796, incorporated October 1797). We parked on Hillhouse Avenue, then walked west to Prospect, then turned west again on Grove Street. Anyway, the Grove Street Cememtery is one of the most beautiful cemeteries I have ever seen, with lots of Egyptian Revival architecture. There were exceptionally fat, fuzzy grey squirrels everywhere, and great hordes of pigeons. Well, flocks, I suppose, not hordes. We soon located the gravestone of Othniel Charles Marsh (October 29, 1831 – March 18, 1899), one half of the "Great Bone War." I'm sort of ashamed that I managed to visit Marsh's grave before Edward Drinker Cope's, seeing as how I always had a much greater admiration for Cope (and someday I'll tell you the story of my incredibly tiny role in the history of the Cope/Marsh feud). I laid a dime on the pink granite monument, despite my misgivings about Marsh. Buried next to him is another Yale paleontologist, Charles Schuchert (July 3, 1858-November 20 1942), who coined the term paleobiology in 1904. Anyway, regardless of his pomposity and dirty dealings, Marsh named such dinosaurs as Torosaurus, Apatosaurus, and Allosaurus, as well as the Cretaceous toothed birds, Hesperornis and Ichthyornis.

Oh, there was a stop before Grove Street. We ducked into a computer science building on Prospect to find a restroom. It was enormous and deserted, and quickly searching the empty hallways for a toilet, I felt a little like Sarah Connor. Yeah. I'm a nerd. And has anyone else ever been amused by the fact that the psychology department at Yale is located on Hillhouse Avenue? Anyway, after the cemetery (where I will be returning to steal names), and after I stopped to tie my shoe on the steps of Woolsey Hall, we headed back to the van, and then on to the Peabody Museum of Natural History (estab. 1917, though the original building was destroyed and the museum moved to its current location in 1925). I will spare you all the gory details. I'd not been to the Peabody since June or July of 2000. Eight years. We spent a good deal of time with the dinosaurs, but also took time to see the rest of the museum (which I'd never done before). By about 5:30 (CaST), my senses were on overload. All the paleontology, anthropology, archaeology, botany, evolutionary biology, ornithology, and so on and on and on. I spent a long time squinting at Rudolph Zallinger's mural, The Age of Reptiles (1947). I bought a small dodo bird in the gift shop, and the cashier remarked how sad it was that there is not even so much as a single photograph of a dodo. Now the dodo has taken its place on my desk, next to the platypus. If I have "totem animals," I suppose they are the platypus and dodo. Anyway...we left Yale just after dark. I slept all the way back to Providence. A grand day, indeed. There are photos below, behind the cut.

After Chinese food, we ate Turkish Delight and watched Doctor Who: The Infinite Quest (2007), and it was great getting more Martha Jones. The look of the animation was beautiful, and the script was good, even if the character animation was stiff. After that, we watched (for the second time) "Partners in Crime," wherein the good doctor gets stuck with a bland, annoying woman as his companion. No, I cannot seem to warm to Catherine Tate. We've only seen the first four eps of Season 4, so we're getting them from Netflix now. Afterwards, we drank pomegranate martinis and played WoW. My disenchantment grows. And please, please, please...I know you mean well, but I need people to stop suggesting that I might enjoy text-based rp. I did. In 1995. Now, I need a visual interface. Otherwise, the rp is just writing, which I'm sorry. I'm just like that. We got to bed very, very late.

And, as I said, there are photos behind the cut:

Thursday, December 4, 2008 )
greygirlbeast: (chi2)
Turns out, today is the 2nd Annual (Unofficial) International Cephalopod Appreciation and Awareness Day (UICAAD). Booya! So, everyone wrap your tentacles around something slimy and boneless. And some kind soul please buy this for me and Spooky, because all good sex toys are not penis-shaped.

A good writing day yesterday. 1,545 words on Chapter Seven of The Red Tree, which brings the typescript to 74,315 words, or 290 pages. I'm thinking it will go to 90,000 words.

Not much else to yesterday. I did not leave the house. I read, from the September 2008 Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, "A new sauropod: Tastavinsaurus sanzi gen. et sp. nov. from the Early Cretaceous (Aptian) of Spain." These days, I can't seem to keep up with the new dinosaur taxa, they come in so fast. By the way, the genus name, Tastavinsaurus, is derived from the Catalan word "Tastavin," meaning "wine taster," and the Greek "sauros," means "lizard" (though, of course, we know that sauropod dinosaurs were not lizards, it's still tradition). So, "Wine-taster lizard." There, now. Don't go saying I never learned you nothing.

Speaking of dinosaurs, my thanks to Cliff Miller for sending me news of the Nova episode, "Arctic Dinosaurs." I can even watch it online, starting tonight. I expect Sarah Flintstone...I mean Palin...has banned access to the webcast in Alaska....
greygirlbeast: (new chi)
Yesterday I did 1,065 words on "Pickman's Other Model." Another good writing day. I'm really starting to fall in love with this story. I'm guessing I'll likely be able to finish it, at this rate, by Sunday or Monday. By the way, if you are unfamiliar with Lovecraft's "Pickman's Model," you may now read the entire story online (though I still recommend reading it from an actual book).

People who pre-ordered the new Subterranean Press edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder should be receiving their copies any time now. And if you haven't ordered, I think there might be a hundred or so copies left at the publisher.

This is, I think, actually going to be a genuinely shortish entry. Huzzah.

After the writing yesterday, we had a walk in Freedom Park. It was a little chilly for my liking, but the sky was filled with wonderful clouds. After dinner, we watched the first three episodes of Season Four of Angel, and I think the series is really starting to hit its stride right about here. And it was great getting Alexa Davalos as the "electrifying" Gwen in "Ground State," as I'd enjoyed her as Kyra ("Jack") in The Chronicles of Riddick. And getting to see a green Fred wasn't so shabby, either (in "The House Always Wins"), at least not if you are given to the sorts of...oh, never mind. I read "Dinosaur teeth from the Cenomanian of Charentes, Western France: evidence for a mixed Laurasian-Gondwanan assemblage" in the latest Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology (Vol. 27, No. 4). Later still, I had Second Life rp as Nareth the cyborg Nephilim in Toxian City. First, there was a bit of fetish magick and phylactery, raising a protective sentry for the Omega Institute, and then Nareth had some issues with absolute zero and temporal flux, and, finally, she was granted the ability to cry (whether she wanted it or not). There's a screencap behind the cut. That was yesterday.

Nareth and Larissa )

And just in case you have not yet heard about the discovery, from a Welsh lobster pot, of the first-known "hexapus", well, now you have. As for me, I've no time for any 'pus at the moment but Herr Platypus, who needs a breath mint, I think.
greygirlbeast: (tentacles)
So, here is is, International Cephalopod Awareness Day, and I didn't even find out until 7:07 p.m. (EDT; thank you, [ profile] sfmarty). Sigh. Well, it's not like I'm not always aware of cephalopds...


greygirlbeast: (Default)
Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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