Several Views of Sun & Dragons

March 3

A really lovely weekend, though I spent thirteen hours of it driving. Here are some random moments/images/impressions/observations:

• I like the bees in the boxes in the orchards along I-5; as I pointed out to Heather, if you look closely, you can see the boxes are effervescing, bees buzzing around like bubbles jumping from a carbonated soda.

• I love the hills covered with windmills. They always remind me, quite pleasantly, of the airships from Super Mario Bros. 3 (the best of them all); as if the hills might at any moment begin to make ponderous but steady progress across the land, like enormous dirt hovercraft, powered by fiercely whirling white propellors.

• Juliana Hatfield says Southern California is bad for the soul; at the very least, I think it's bad for the skin and the corneas. The sun seems entirely too up-close-and personal. The dead tree gives no shelter, etc.; there's simply too much glare there.

• No bar that makes a big deal out of impending St. Patrick's Day should be so foolish as to not serve Guinness; but lo, we found such a bar.

• I have more fun shopping with Susan in music stores than I do shopping with her in underwear stores.

• Jumping on hotel beds is fun, but not as satisfying as jumping on the bed at home; perhaps because Heather doesn't care when I do it in a hotel.

• Room service is a thrill even when the food is substandard.

• It's a good thing we don't have HBO at home, because we'd watch it a lot.

• In Old Town Pasadena, the garbage cans look like post office drop-boxes, which surely leads to many an amusing mishap.

• Kenny's golden jacket kicked ass.

• Jenn's phoebe-style hair and gorgeous dress likewise kicked ass.

• Jenn & Kenny had the loveliest vows, the coolest geek-chic rings, and the best kiss of any marriage I've witnessed.

• Paper accordion-bodied dragons are insanely much fun.

• Table hockey with stone hearts is a dicey proposition.

• Karaoke is easier when you're running with a pack.

• Two beautiful women swing dancing together is incredibly hot. (Actually, I knew this beforehand, but it's always nice to be reminded)

• If one truly tries, one can come up with many puns for the word "gourd".

• Valet parking attendants are sometimes frighteningly intense.

• Tot grows ever larger and more beautiful.

• If I still lived with D., I would have been able to borrow appropriate clothing for the Chinese-themed wedding; alas, this was not to be.

• I should probably buy a camera.

• Sunland is a very unimaginatively-named little town.

• When you're feeling sick and/or hungover, the little things become quite meaningful; like being able to keep down water, or successfully eat food.

• Heather and I can sing almost the entire Buffy Musical. We're especially good at Xander and Anya's duet, and at "I've Got a Theory". Hear us and tremble with joy.

• I used to know the words to many songs, but I no longer do, it seems.

• There are vast fields of cows there in the valley, and they're surreal, and they smell bad, but there's something oddly pleasing about seeing a bunch of cows standing high on a mound of dirt, as if they're playing king of the hill in slow-motion, with only the dimmest understanding of the rules.

• The ice cream vending machines at rest areas are amusingly steampunk in style; a sucking vacuum tube that descends into slots in a cooler, then retracts, then drops the ice cream into a chute. Fascinating.

I could go on and on, but the hours grows late, and so on.

Other things: I came home to two rejections today. One from SciFiction; she liked it, but not enough to buy. The other from Realms of Fantasy, the Blue Form of Death. Such is life. In happier news, it seems I've sold a couple of poems, but the details haven't been confirmed yet, so I'll report more formally on that in a bit.

I read The Wooden Sea this weekend, and liked it; Carroll continues to explore new thematic ground, which is nice. About to read Cosmonaut Keep by Ken MacLeod.

I have to send out a few stories, and I thought I was going to prepare that tonight, but now I think not. Too tired. I'll do it tomorrow and send them off Tuesday. I suppose the publishing establishment can survive another day without my words...

So the solitary short-story dare for February is over, being as February is over. The total wordage was 21,250. Respectable. Of the stuff I wrote, I've sold the two reviews, one of the stories, and (probably, barring the unforeseen) two of the poems. The other three stories await revision... A pretty unusually good month. I'm going to finish the Frog story, then get back into Rangergirl (which, based on recent outlining, will probably be about a fourth longer than I'd anticipated, which is fine, fine).

Because I find it a surprisingly effective motivating device, however, I'm going to leave the running word count up indefinitely.

Okay. G'night.

Words written since February 1, 2002: 21,250

Words written today: I was in Pasadena. One cannot write in Pasadena.

The bee-king's effervescent blessing.

Tim Pratt
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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