Cold Pyre

February 20

2:41 p.m.

Long time no type. And now, strangely, I'm sitting on the couch in my living room at 2:42 on a Thursday afternoon, writing on Heather's laptop. Very odd. I decided not to go to work this morning, because I'm sick and tired of, ha ha, being sick and tired -- specifically, of having a cold that won't go away, because I haven't been getting enough rest, fluids, etc. I've been sick for a week or more, but there was never a day I could miss at work before this -- until Tuesday afternoon we were cranking on the issue, and yesterday I had to pick up my boss(es) at the airport. So, when I woke up feeling exhausted and woozy and sniffly this morning (as I have every morning, lately), I figured I should take the opportunity to drink tea and sit around and generally give my afflicted body time to heal. Here's hoping it works; I need to get back to work tomorrow, if I want to stay ahead of the rising tide of Stuff to Do...

Speaking of A Certain Magazine, the annual poll and survey is now online -- go fill it out!And remember, write-ins are welcome...

While I'm linking things, check out the cover art and contents for the upcoming Fresh Blood antho, which includes my nasty fairy-tale "Stray". Sometimes it's nice to get up to your elbows in gore. Metaphorically, that is.

And go read my latest poem at Strange Horizons, "Wolfways"!

I've been plugging away at the Dare, but not making much progress. Did another 500 words or so on the Sigmund story since last I wrote, which is pitiful, but I haven't been feeling well, as I may've mentioned, and thus productivity has lapsed. However, inspired by Greg's recent streak of showing the bastards by writing a lot of short-shorts, I decided to write something short today. So I produced "Winter on the Pyre", 1600 odd little words. I have notions for a couple of other shorts, too, which will make a nice break from the longer Sigmund story...

In life-news, the borrowed car we've been using began to smell of gas (some of the neighbors at work alerted me to this, as my clogged nose didn't notice particularly), and, though I am very clueless about cars, I poked around under the hood. Therein I found a hose, wet with gas! So presumably there's a cracked fuel line. We took it to the mechanic, and should be getting it back this afternoon. Here's hoping it's nothing more complicated than the fuel line...

Last night we watched The Deep End, a serviceable suspense film starring Tilda Swenson (the poor man's Cate Blanchett). Next up from Netflix we should be getting Jesus Christ, Vampire Hunter, which I understand is rather transcendentally bad. Movies are fun. Eventually, we'll so see Daredevil, though from what I've heard it's not even worth the price of a matinee. And I'll refrain from bitching about how awful The League of Extraordinary Gentleman will likely be -- just note, briefly, mournfully, that it could have been so good, if they'd hired a director and some writers who actually got what Alan Moore was doing with the comic. But they didn't, and it won't be, so.

Last night, in an attempt to jump-start my lagging mental processes, I asked Heather to drop me off on Piedmont Ave. while she went to feed a friend's cat. I got a caramel apple cider from Starbucks (this year's only serious contender for Best New Crack thus far, btw), and sat down in a big comfy chair to read The Etched City. But the nice barista shooed me out less than a minute later -- the place closes at 9! Egad! So I left, and sat on a bench beside Gaylord's, the ever-more-hip coffee place on the adjacent corner. I sat, and read a bit, but mostly eavesdropped on the continually-shifting group of cigarette-smoking college students on the nearby benches. They reminded me a lot of my friends from college -- they talked about comics, and Neil Gaiman, and the films of Wes Anderson and Kurosawa, and other things I find interesting. Made me feel lonely and nostalgic, to be honest, but I heard some good lines of dialogue I plan to steal, so there you go.

Speaking of old friends and nostalgia, Meg asked me to visit her in New York in April, either before or after the Nebula weekend. It makes sense -- it's only a four hour bus ride -- but I couldn't figure out a way to make it work in terms of time or affordability. Which sucks, because I don't know when I'll have the opportunity again, and I'd love to see her very much. I miss her. Maybe things will be different next year, and Heather and I will have more opportunities for travel... who knows? I want to get to New York, though, to see Meg, and Nick, too; and I need to go to NC to visit the lion's share of my friends and relatives, and I'd like to see New Orleans again... and la la la. Anyway, we bought tickets last night, so it's a definite thing. We're going to the Nebulas! I'll get a certificate and a lapel pin! Whoo! Now we just have to register for the banquet, etc. Oh, and my Mom decided not to go, and she's not mad at me or anything. Less stress for me, now, which is good, and Heather and I are making a visit to NC more of a priority...

I finished The Etched City this morning, and I'm going to review it, but, in short -- best first novel I've read in ages. Very good. If you like Jeffrey Ford's "Well-Built City" books, or Jeff VanderMeer's "Ambergris" stuff, or even the atmosphere of Miéville's New Crobuzon, read this book. By K.J. Bishop, available now from Prime Books. It'll be tricky to find in bookstores, methinks, but it's worth tracking down.

That's all for now, but I'm not going to upload yet... I'll wait until later tonight, in case I think of anything else worth saying...

11:48 p.m.

Not much else to report. Watched Jesus Christ, Vampire Hunter tonight, and it was fairly entertaining. Those wacky Canadians... Also went to pick up the car from the shop. It was, indeed, leaking gas, and the mechanic told me it was a good thing I noticed it, because it could've caught fire and exploded. So I'll have to thank the neighbor who tipped me off... Otherwise, just hung around with my snuggly, sweet Heather. A nice night, and I think the day of rest really helped with my cold. Here's to wellness!

Words written since February 1, 2003: 7,400

Words written since last entry:
2,100.

Stories written this month:

• "Living with the Harpy"
• The Train Story (tentatively "Helljack"), with Mike Jasper
• "Winter on the Pyre"

Poems written this month:

• "Nidhigg" (Bestiary poem)
• "Ts'its'tsi'nako" (Bestiary poem)