greygirlbeast: (new newest chi)
Cold and windy here in Providence. Gusts up to 42 mph.

Today is the ninth anniversary of the inception of my online journal (whether we call it a blog, LJ, whatever). That's nine years, which sort of makes my head spin. It began at Blogger (where the first three years are still archived), then moved to LJ sometime in 2004. Nine years. That means if you're twenty (and I have trouble believing anyone's that young), you were only eleven when I made the first entry. I've probably made entries for 90% of the days in the last nine years. Off the top of my head, the only blogging author who's been at this longer than me is Neil. If I say that my writing career began in 1992— which is usually where I start, with the writing of The Five of Cups —my career records the second of that eighteen years.

---

I've not been well the last few days, and I think most of it can be attributed to the insomnia, which is about as bad as it's ever been. I'm lucky to get six hours a night. And yet, on Sunday I wrote 1,040 words on "The Prayer on Ninety Cats," and on Monday I did another 1,224 words on the story. Yesterday, I took the day off, because I was feeling very bad and hadn't gone Outside since November 17th. I may be able to find The End today, or it may be tomorrow. Either way, it's an odd and ambitious and I hope very effective story. It's part loose biography (Elizabeth Bathory), part paean to old movie theatres, part screenplay, part dreamquest. And it's sort of written in second person, as per [livejournal.com profile] sovay's request. It will either be a feather in my cap or an impressive failure. The story will be appearing in Sirenia Digest #60.

---

Yesterday, we took in a matinée of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part One. And what do I think? Having slept on it, I'd say that it's the pretty decent first half of what will probably be a pretty decent movie made from an utterly wretched novel (I say that as a Harry Potter fan). I think the filmmakers should have tried just a little harder to make the first half more like a complete film. It suffers the same way that The Matrix Reloaded suffered. Unlike a lot of geeks, I'm a geek who actually likes the last two installments of The Matrix, but only when they are watched back to back, because each one is half of the same film. Anyway, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part One is beautifully filmed, well acted, and as scary and sad as it ought to be. I was mostly relieved that, unlike the book, Hermione doesn't spend the whole time sobbing.

---

I haven't done much reading the last couple of days, but I did finish the second Farscape graphic novel, Scorpius: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, and "The Structure and Evolution of the Sauropod Tooth Battery," which is mostly concerned with Nigersaurus taqueti, one of the oddest-known sauropod dinosaurs (and one of my favorites).

I have been catching up on "television." Do we still call it that? Mostly, Spooky and I watch "television" on her laptop, on DVDs or streaming from Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, and PBS. Anyway, the BBC Sherlock Holmes is fucking brilliant, and big props to Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, and the team of Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. Awesome. And a very sexy Holmes.

The latest episode of Frank Darabont's The Walking Dead was an improvement over the third episode, which was just a little too "soap opera" for my taste. The episode's climactic zombie attack was nicely handled.

We're working our way through the latest season of Doctor Who. The transitions to new doctors are always hard on me, but I'm liking Matt Smith quite a lot. To me, Doctor Nine (Christopher Eccelston, and still my favorite), was the Angry Doctor. David Tenant was the Ecstatic Doctor. And now I'm thinking of Matt Smith as the Befuddled Doctor. Also, very much liking Amelia Pond (Karen Gillan).

---

Hammer Horror "scream queen" Ingrid Pitt is dead at age 73. She wrote the introduction to The Mammoth Book of Vampire Stories by Women (2001), which included my story, "So Runs the World Away."

---

And now, on the subject of the Cataclysm WoW expansion. The big 4.0.3 patch went live last night, which means we are now in the age after the sundering of the world by the dragon Deathwing (yeah, they really could have found a better name, like maybe "Deathwing" in Latin, at least). But, mostly, I think what we've seen of the expansion so far is pretty damn awesome. The rebuilt Orgimmar is a vast improvement, and the destruction wrought upon the world is impressive. They've even made the goblins look better, so I will definitely be rolling "Punkmuffin" as soon as I may.

I do have a couple of complaints. First, Blizzard should have specified how much time has passed since the cataclysm. Looking at the reconstruction of Orgrimmar alone (and there are many other factors I could cite), a minimum of ten years has to have passed, and maybe as long as twenty years. I know most WoW players do not think in terms of story, because most WoW players are not roleplayers. Most WoW players think rp is silly and beneath them. But I am a roleplayer, and this is important to me. Also, because so many quests were dumped and so many added, I've gone from being about seventy quests from getting Loremaster of Kalimdor to being many hundreds of quests from getting Loremaster of Kalimdor. That means the equivalent of maybe 200 hours of game play simply...lost. This could have been handled much, much better. But, these things aside, so far, this is a very fine expansion, far more impressive than Wrath of the Lich King.

Also, Eyes of Sylvanas (my Horde guild on the Cenarion Circle server) is still seeking members. And if you don't play WoW— and want to invite a giant time suck into your life —now's a great time to start. You can get the first two games for $5 each, and Lich King for another $10.

---

Okay, time to make the doughnuts. Comments welcome, just so I am reminded people are still reading (after nine years)...
greygirlbeast: (white)
I've just not been up for much in the way of blogging since an especially black mood settled over me on Wednesday evening. It was the gaudy fucking tyranny of Xmas and all the ghosts it dredges up every year (only, this year, hitting harder than I've come to expect). It was my usual depression and the bad dreams and having too much to write and not enough time and energy to get it all written. It was the peculiar homesickness I get for places that never much wanted me around to start with, so it seems odd and masochistic to miss them. It was the way I begin to feel when I do not leave the House frequently enough. It was all of these things, and then the news of Vic Chesnutt's suicide.*

I don't think 2010 can come soon enough, because 2009's been bloody brutal (and there's a popular delusion, that turning a calendar page, or changing calendars, will lead to better times). Anyway, at least I had a nice assortment of sweets and pain pills and benzodiazepines on hand to help get me through the so-called "holiday." I was thinking I'd try to recap the last four days...but I'm not sure I'll do anything but make a mess of it. And it's nothing very exciting. But, here goes:

Wednesday (12/23): I wrote 1,010 words on a new vignette for Sirenia Digest #49, which after monumental dithering and near lock-up, I called "Untitled 34." Truthfully, I've no idea how I wrote that much, as I was in a rage most of the day. It's my first Skogsrå story.

Thursday (12/24): I wrote another 1,074 words on "Untitled 34." The writing was much easier on Thursday than on Wednesday. It helped that I didn't have to fret over the silly artifice of a title. Later, I went with Spooky to the market, and saw that the snow had hardly even begun to melt. Later still, what better way to show Xmas the middle finger than watch Bad(der) Santa (2003) on Xmas Eve? Willie and the Kid and Mrs. Santa's Sister actually lifted my spirits for the first time in days ("Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa!").

Friday (12/25): I usually make it a point to work on Xmas, but this year I figured if the rest of the country can fuck off for no good reason, then so could I. We had an all afternoon marathon (stretching into the evening) of Die Hard films. Seemed sort of appropriate. John McTiernan's Die Hard (1988) is still probably the best of the four, and I was glad to see it has aged so well (despite all the 80s horridness). Not such a fan of Renny Harlin's Die Harder (1990), though. It's a bit of a mess, and lacks much of what made the first film work. But, fortunately, McTiernan returned in 1995 with Die Hard With A Vengeance, which is really rather delightful. There's a great chemistry between Willis and Jackson, plus we get Sam Phillips and Jeremy Irons as villains. I think it's best to pretend that Die Harder never happened. Die Hard With A Vengeance is a far, far better sequel to the original film. Alas, we didn't watch Len Wiseman's Live Free or Die Hard (2007), because we don't have a copy. Oh, we had hot dogs for "Xmas dinner," because, more importantly, it was Kindernacht. Spooky baked gingerbread.

Saturday (12/26): I sat down at the keyboard yesterday determined to finish "Untitled 34," and finish it I did. I wrote a very respectable 1,707 words. Later, we watched Doctor Who— "The Next Doctor" —and Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums (2001). Somehow, it often seems this is the film that all but defines mine and Kathryn's relationship. Make of that what you will. And it is a comfort film. Also, yesterday I finished reading the paper on Massospondylus kaalae and began reading "The Postcranial Osteology of Rapetosaurus [Sauropoda; Titanosauria] from the Late Cretaceous of Madagascar."

Yeah...I sort of made a mess of that. But you should get the gist. I left out all the WoW. We've played a lot of WoW the last few days. We'd decided to forsake the Borean Tundra and return to Dragonblight, but then we wound up fighting with the Tuskarr against the ghosts of sea giants, and that was actually very cool. Seeing Suraa and Shaharrazad, flanked by Tuskarr warriors, charging across the ice towards a line of phantom Vrykul sailors who were just clambering off their boat– exquisite. For that, I can almost forgive the ugliness and mess of Warsong Hold. Then we entered the Scourge's Temple City of En'kilah and the floating city of Naxxanar above it and assassinated Prince Valanar and his two lieutenants Luthion the Vile and Vanthryn the Merciless. After that, we aided in the evacuation of Taunka'le, which took us back Dragonblight and Agmar's Hammer. And...well, lots and lots more. We're now at Level 74, halfway to 75, and finally made it to Dalaran, where Shah's taken residence at the Filthy Animal in the Horde Quarter.

You know...it's been time to make the doughnuts for the last half hour. Sheesh. No one's going to read all this crap.

* Here's a link to Kristin Hersh's eulogy.
greygirlbeast: (Bowie3)
2009 is winding down fast. Winding down, wrapping up, whichever. And a strange year it has been. Every year, the years grow shorter— at least when viewed from my subjective personal perspective —shorter and more bizarre. Every year, I feel a greater degree of cognitive disconnect between NOW and THEN, and find it increasingly difficult to reconcile the past with the present; the future, somehow, seems more solid than the present.

No writing yesterday. I did send "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics" to subpress, but it would be a lie to say that was work. Yesterday earns an L, as it was a lost day. However, were I to try to explain why, I'd only get myself into a mood that would make working today extremely unlikely. So, let's just say nothing was written.

The most peculiar thing about "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics" is that it contains no contractions. Not a single one. It was a conscious nod to the style employed by Silverberg when he wrote Nightwings. And it yielded an oddly formal, and oddly innocent, voice. Nothing I would likely ever do again, but it worked for this story.

Yesterday, I had a long hot bath. I napped. Day before yesterday, I finished reading the paper on Tethyshadros and began reading "A new basal sauropodomorph dinosaur from the upper Elliot Formation [Lower Jurassic] of South Africa."

There's a photo behind the cut that I took on Monday, of a rather daunting ice/snow formation hanging from the roof of the house next door:

An Accident Waiting )
greygirlbeast: (The Red Tree)
I am especially not awake this morning.

Yesterday, somehow, I did 1,487 words and found THE END of "Charcloth, Firesteel, and Flint." Today, I'll read back over the whole story and make corrections. I also have an interview to get to today (maybe).

---

My thanks to everyone who commented yesterday. The "I"m afraid you'll think I'm a stalker" thing always surprises me, but I suppose I see where it's coming from. [livejournal.com profile] ellen_datlow made the suggestion that, if I wish to see more comments, "You need to post something provocative once in awhile..." And she's absolutely correct, of course. Provocative comments certainly do seem to lead to an increase in comments for any given entry. All you have to do is look back at entries from my early years on LJ to see this. There was a time, I frequently made provocative comments, and people would prickle, and there would be arguments. Twenty-five people a day would "unfriend" me for refusing to support Bush's war against Iraq or for condemning factory farming or for disapproving of disposable uranium-enriched diapers, or whatever.

But, as time went by, I tired of the arguments. I was once a very, very argumentative person, and now...I'm not. I haven't mellowed (just ask Spooky), it's simply that I no longer possess the requisite energy for these...let's be polite and call them "discussions." Thing is, I wasn't trying to be provocative back then. I just thought, "People reading this will want to know what I actually think and feel about things." But I think a lot of them didn't. I think a lot of them were appalled to learn that a writer whom they admired did not think as they did. So, gradually, the journal became less prone to address controversial subjects.

So, while I agree that posting provocative statements would certainly increase comments, I'm just not certain I'm up to it any longer. All that energy I wasted on internet arguments, it now goes into writing fiction, and that seems more constructive to me.

I'll just have to live with the comments I do get. And no, I have no plans to abandon this journal. I've said that before. I do not care how much the world loves Twitter and Facebook (both of which I am now using); actual blogging is much more to my tastes. And I was given a "permanent account" by [livejournal.com profile] thingunderthest a few years ago. So here I stay, so long as here stays. And should the Russians tire of hosting LiveJournal, I've been backing it all up to Dreamwidth, and I'd just move over there.

---

Yesterday, I finished reading "A re-evaluation of Brachiosaurus altithorax Riggs 1904 (Dinosauria, Sauropoda) and its generic separation from Giraffatitan brancai (Janenesch 1914)." It isn't often that one gets a laugh at the end of a paper in the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, but there was a nice laugh at the end of this one. But...you sort of have to be a dinosaur nerd to get the humor. See, there's this very large sauropod dinosaur, Brachiosaurus altithorax, that was named by a guy named Riggs, way back in 1904, from Late Jurassic-aged sediments in the American west. Ten years later, a German paleontologist, Janenesch, named a second species of Brachiosaurus, B. brancai, from rocks of the same age in East Africa. Many, many years later, in 1988, another paleontologist, Greg Paul, decided that the African and American species were too dissimilar to be contained in a single genus. Unfortunately, he did something that vertebrate paleontology usually avoids, he created a subgenus. Now, I won't get into the lack of utility inherent in the concept of fossil subgenera, but it's generally frowned upon. Regardless, Greg Paul erected the subgenus Giraffatitan, and placed the African species, B. brancai in it, so that the species became properly known by the rather unwieldy name Brachiosaurus (Giraffatitan) brancai. Now, along comes another paleontologist, Michael Taylor, twenty-one years later (and 105 years after Riggs first recognized Brachiosaurus altithorax), and makes things a bit less messy by demonstrating that Paul was right: two valid taxa were once contained within the single genus, Brachiosaurus, but because of the problems posed by subgenera, we need to consider them two distinct genera, Brachiosaurus and Giraffatitan. If you're still with me, here's the funny part, at the very end of Taylor's acknowledgments:

"Finally, I beg forgiveness from all brachiosaur lovers, that so beautiful an animal as 'Brachiosaurus' brancai now has to be known by so inelegant a name as Giraffatitan."

No, really. I literally "laughed out loud."

Yeah...not provocative, I know. But it does give you a great deal of insight into how this particular writer thinks.
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: (white2)
Last week, one day or another, I got emails from my lit agent and my editor at Penguin (Anne Sowards) discussing when the short synopsis for the novel to be published after Joey Lafaye would be due. Yes, the novel after the novel I have not yet even begun. And I sort of panicked, because even my place-holder synopses are hard to come by. I don't generally know what happens in a novel until it happens. Even though Anne was suggesting it would not be due until August 2008, this synopsis for the book after Joey Lafaye, I freaked out. How the frell would I know, either now or fourteen months from now? Then, last night — no, just after 4 a.m. this morning — as I lay awake in the arms of Madame Insomnia, listening to Spooky sleep, the roughest form of that novel came to me, that it would be another story about Emmie Silvey, that she would be maybe ten or eleven, that something has gone awry in the Providence warrens and the changeling children seek Emmie out, because she's become sort of legendary...and no, it doesn't sound like much. But it's better than nothing at all, and I have fourteen months or so to let it steep. Insomnia is often the mother of necessary invention.

I have been worrying a lot lately about my writing. It started when I reread Silk and looked through Tales of Pain and Wonder for the first time in ages. Sure, I'm a much, much better writer now, but is what I'm writing inherently better than what I was writing then? More importantly, is it about something more than telling stories? Almost ten years after it's original publication, I see lots of flaws with Silk I couldn't see in 1996 or 1998, and parts of it make me groan, but it has something to say, something it says, and for that I will likely always love it. This is even more true of ToPaW. It's true of The Dreaming. But is the same true of Threshold? Low Red Moon? I think so. And I know it's true of Murder of Angels, but I'm not so sure about Daughter of Hounds, even though I also know it's my best-written novel to date. One may write well — one may write exquisitely, even — and have nothing at all to say. Writing "The Ape's Wife" last month, this all seemed suddenly very important to me again. I fear that in the rush to meet deadlines and write enough to keep all the bills paid, somewhere along the way, I may have forgotten that it is not enough to tell a good story, or even to create characters who ring true. These are necessary accomplishments, but they are surely not sufficient. Art requires more than mere craft, more even than talent. It requires meaning. Heading into The Dinosaurs of Mars and Joey Lafaye, these thoughts will be my Beatrice (so to speak). There's something I feel I might have drifted away from, and I want...no, I need to get back to it again.

Yesterday, well, it was day 4 of this vacation. Today is day 5. Likely as not, there won't be a day 6, though I must have earned a day 6. Life is not getting what we've earned, it's making the most of what we get. Anyway, yesterday was mostly spent with Second Life, I am so thoroughly captivated. I think I spent ten or eleven hours in SL yesterday, which means I've done more than 24 hrs. now. Maybe more than 30. And none of the shiny has worn off yet. My thanks to the people who came to the Dark Goddess last night to see Nareth Nishi dance. I saw [livejournal.com profile] sovay and her brother, as well as [livejournal.com profile] blu_muse. I've been asked to post the times I'm dancing at the Dark Goddess (which is in Dorje), my "work schedule," but I can't seem to locate it at the moment. However, I do know that I'm dancing today from 2-4 p.m. (PST; 5-7 EST) and then again from 6-8 PST (9-11 EST). Tips are very welcome. And if you should happen to sign up for a Second Life account, please be so kind as to say I (Nareth Nishi, not Caitlín Kiernan) recommended you, as that gets me Lindens (SL dollars). [livejournal.com profile] blu_muse took some cool snapshots last night, and maybe I'll post a couple of them here tomorrow.

Also yesterday, here in my first life, we had our walk about sunset. I read "Osteology of Ampelosaurus atacis (Titanosauria) from Southern France" by Jean Le Loeuff (and realized I can read French much better than I can speak or write it). Sometime after midnight, we watched Will Smith and Thandie Newton in Gabriele Muccino's The Pursuit of Happyness (2006), which we liked, actually. It was good to see Will Smith in a substantial role. I think that was everything of note as far as yesterday is concerned.

Okay. Back to the waning vacation...

Postscript (2:21 p.m.): Just found my "work" schedule. I dance in SL @ the Dark Goddess—

MONDAY—FRIDAY:
2 PM SLT TO 4 PM SLT
6 PM SLT TO 8 PM SLT
SAT:
2 PM SLT TO 4 PM SLT
6 PM SLT TO 8 PM SLT
SUN:
6 PM SLT TO 8 PM SLT

Note that I will not always be dancing the midday shift. But I will be today. And Second Life Time = PST.
greygirlbeast: (white2)
The dreamsickness is with me today, fluttering behind my eyes. And I can only grit my teeth and wait for it to fade and remember this: My past does not haunt me; I haunt myself with my past. Consciously and unconsciously.

I am fairly certain this is the longest genuine vacation I've had in...well, in just about fucking forever. Years, certainly. To be perfectly perspicuous, a vacation that is not a working vacation. On Wednesday evening, I let my lit agent and producer D, my editor at HC and the folks at subpress, know that I would be out of touch until at least Monday and maybe until Tuesday. I do believe that it is doing me some good. I surely hope that it is.

I have a couple or three more belated birthday thank yous: my thanks to my mom, and to Larne Pekowsky and Gordon Duke. I hope I have forgotten no one. And this reminds me, Spooky's ([livejournal.com profile] humglum) 37th is coming up fast (June 24th!), and she also has an Amazon wishlist, if anyone is so kindly disposed.

We had a longish walk yesterday. The sky was threatening rain, weighted with the dark grey-blue fringes of Barry. Alas, all we got yesterday was a sprinkle or two, and this morning the sun and smoke are back. But the walk was good. There was a cool, rain-scented wind, and I saw a bluebird. We walked through Freedom Park, as far west as Oakdale Road, before turning back for home. Spooky made her yummy pasta salad for dinner, plus marinated mushrooms, and later I even got a little reading done — "Reassessment of the Early Cretaceous sauropod Astrodon johnsoni Leidy 1865 (Titanosauriformes)," by Kenneth Carpenter and Virginia Tidwell.

Otherwise, the day was all Second Life. I spent most of it trying to get into trouble with [livejournal.com profile] blu_muse, wandering places that were far tamer than their names would lead one to believe. Then, last night, I...well, Nareth Nishi...got the job, pole dancing at a place called the Dark Goddess. If you're a Second Lifer (or decide today to become one), drop by tonight between the hours of nine and eleven (EST; six to eight PST) and give a girl a tip. How else will you ever see me fire-dancing semi-nude? Not in this First Life, that's for sure. I have to try to score some new clothes today, so I won't be dancing every evening in the same outfit. Oh, and Spooky has also taken a Second Life alter-ego, name of Artemisia Paine. But she's kind of a punk.

Tomorrow, maybe I'll make an actual writing post, as there's something writerly I've been meaning to talk about and it will be time to start thinking about First Life work again...
greygirlbeast: (Default)
I've been trying to find more images online of the new sauropod dinosaur from Spain, Turiasaurus riodevensis. I came up with three. The first two aren't so hot, quality-wise, but do give a sense of scale. The third, from CBS, is of the forelimb that was found articulated, and it's quite nice. They're all behind the cut:

Turiasaurus riodevensis )


We are undoubtedly living in a new Golden Age of dinosaur discoveries. Largely, this is the result of extensive field work in parts of the globe that were previously poorly explored. Just the last couple of years alone, there have been so many new taxa I can't keep up (though I try). Just among the sauropods! For example, there's the extremely weird short-neck dicraeosaurid Brachytrachelopan mesai from Patagonia. There's the dwarf sauropod Europasaurus holgeri from Germany. There's the extraordinarily long-necked Erketu ellisoni from Mongolia. And there are others, some not yet named or formally described. And that's just the sauropods. Never mind the new theropods and ornithischians.

Awesome stuff.
greygirlbeast: (Default)
A couple of cool ones from today.

First, Turiasaurus riodevensis, a truly gigantic new sauropod dinosaur has been described from remains discovered in eastern Spain. To date, Turiasaurus is the largest dinosaur found in Europe and perhaps one of the largest sauropods ever, reaching an estimated length of 30-37 metres.



Teeth of Turiasaurus riodevensis


For those who — inexplicably — prefer things mammalian, the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (vol 103, p 19419) this week included a report describing the remains of a 16-million-year-old mammal, including "fossilised parts of a jaw and a leg from the mammal, unearthed in sediment from the St Bathans lake bed in the South Island. It represents an evolutionary stage that pre-dates the split between pouched marsupials and placental mammals." But what's so exciting about this tiny beast is that according to what we thought we knew about paleobiogeography, it shouldn't have been there. This indicates New Zealand's diverse avifauna did not necessarily evolve in the absence of mammalian predators/competitors. That is, when New Zealand split off Gondwana in the Cretaceous, maybe some mammals went along after all.

It's one of those things that makes science so wonderful. It's not so much what you think you know today, as much as it's how you might learn tomorrow or the day after that you were wrong and have a whole new puzzle to solve.



A tiny furball among the big birds (skull fragments)


Okay. Spooky has informed me that, despite the icky weather and the late hour, we are about to steal away for a belated Solstice thing. So, gotta run. Merry Cephalopodmas!

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greygirlbeast: (Default)
Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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