Into the City, and Out Again, and After
March 10
Here I am again. Stunningly inarticulate tonight, for some reason, but oh well.
First, writing-wise: today I wrote 1,400 words on the Frog story. The scene has all the tension of a broken trampoline, unfortunately; I wasn't writing well today. But it's there in rough form, and I can continue the tale, and re-write as necessary later on.
Got confirmation: Two poems accepted by Strange Horizons; "Laughing Blood" and "Poor Bahamut" (both from my loose series of "Bestiary" pieces... but this is a mythic, cosmic sort of bestiary). One poem is about Bahamut, the world-fish, and one is about a peculiar Inuit creature called The Disemboweller. I like the poems. No idea yet when they'll appear, but I'll let you know when I do.
Friday night was good, insofar as I can remember it... I read some more short stories (enjoyed "The Walking Sticks" by Gene Wolfe), and Dark Sister by Graham Joyce from beginning to end, and liked it very much (as much as Smoking Poppy, even).
Saturday morning I got up semi-early and BARTed to Berkeley, and then walked to the Post Office, where many fine envelopes awaited me.
Being poetry editor rules. I get review copies! I got stuff by Charlee Jacob and Christina Sng and Bruce Boston and G. Sutton Brieding... I really like Charlee Jacob's work, and am looking forward to reading the others as well. Mmm. Loveliness.
Since I was in Berkeley, I went to Au Coquelet and read all my snail mail submissions. There were quite a few good poems sent, and I accepted several. I'm looking forward to putting my first issue together; whee! After that I read a bit, some short stories from a Year's Best F & H, then went back home.
Heather and I went to the grocery store and got out in record time, with enough food to last a good while. She cooked a lovely ricotta-y pasta dish, and we ate...
Around 8 we drove into the city, to an event called "Bi and For the People" (though my mind insisted on re-naming it "Bi and Beyond") at the new Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Community Center. It was absolutely packed. Heather knew many people; I knew almost none. There was a stand-up comic, Rob Yeager, who was quite funny, and local guru Carol Queen emceed, and the exceedingly strange Annie Sprinkle (for want of a better word) performed. I enjoyed the stage-show portion of the evening quite a bit, though I got a bit crowd-crushed at other times (reminded of Dante's line "These people pressing in on us are many"). Eventually I fled from a wall-to-wall-fleshroom to the lobby, where I stood beside a pillar and looked out at the rain (and at the people passing on the sidewalk who were looking bewilderedly into the building; I suppose rubber nuns and drag queens and such are still enough to draw the occasional glance, even in SF). I wrote part of a poem in which Diana of the Hundred Breasts becomes a pro-sex lecturer, but sort of lost steam on it, and then ran into R. Michael "Auros" Harman of SH, and chatted with him a bit. Then Heather and Holly found me, and we retired to a tiny room on the far side of the center, where people were reading. After an infestation of Porn Clowns were cleared out, Heather had a chance to read, and did the hot sex scene from "Heidi". Unfortunately, halfway through her piece loud music began issuing from the speakers in the ceiling (specifically "Praise You" by Fat Boy Slim, which is a nice enough bit of music, but too loud, alas). Heather soldiered on, and did a fine job, especially considering the less-than-ideal circumstances. After she read we left (none too soon for me, as I was socially overstimulated, or for Holly, who had availed herself perhaps overmuch of the free wine), and got out of the city (rain! traffic! I hate driving in the city). Then we went to the Smokehouse, and while Holly snoozed in the back seat, Heather bought me a burger and some fries. Mmm. We went home, got Heather's boots off (with the aid of some pliers, as one of her zippers broke during the evening), and had some food. Vapidly watched television. Tumbled into bed.
Today I slept in quite a bit, waking a good hour after Heather did. We made a big breakfast of eggs and hash browns and toast and juice, then I went upstairs and wrote a couple hundred words. Afterward I came back down and slumped on the couch, proclaiming that if I could ever write full time, that was the way it would be: "Sleep until 1:00, make breakfast, finish that around 3:00, write 216 words, take a nap, and call it a day". Ah, the dream lives on...
In the (later) afternoon, Heather and I went to Susan's, where I raided her bookshelves, borrowing War for the Oaks and a couple of books by Douglas Coupland. We chatted for a good while, and invited Susan for dinner, then came home, where I proceeded to cook in a frenzy, making my (justifiably famous) lasagna. I made a big mushroom lasagna and a smaller meat-filled one; mmm. Yumminess. Then I did dishes. Then Susan came over. Then we found out we only had dessert wine; this did not discourage us, and we all had a glass of the sweet stuff. Then Heather & Holly made a salad, and we ate, and ate, and ate, and talked, and so on. Susan left, and I watched some television with Heather, then wrote some more. Then some frolicking with Heather, and now, here I am, at this late hour, writing these words, which I'll now stop writing.
Words written since February 1, 2002: 27,700
Words written since last entry: 2,200
Send me poems for Star*Line; I'm all out.
Tim Pratt Read about my current publications.
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