Flowers, Films, Fictions, Facts

May 6

Hiya. It's late late late, but I'm not sleepy, so here I am.

I had a tremendously great weekend with Heather; I'm gonna miss her when I'm gone this month. She's become such a positive force in my life, such a good friend, so supportive of my writing, so fun to spend time with.

We did lots of things. Went out for sushi. Spent many hours (consecutively and non-consecutively) at Pergolesi-- I've been drinking lattés because of her influence. We walked around the neighborhood and looked at people's gardens, and she taught me the names of many of the flowers. We sat quietly together and wrote poetry. I made lasagna, she made her famed garlic bread. We drank Newcastle and talked about our college experiences. I got her to watch about 2/3's of The Maxx, and then she fell asleep-- ah, well. I'll try that again another time. We had yum-lovely cookies. I read her a Ted Sturgeon Story ("Brownshoes"). We talked about writing, of course.

We went to see Memento at the Nick. It's a good movie-- strangely told, very twisty, oddly suspenseful. It has slow moments, and there were times that I had trouble following what was happening, but I found it mostly compelling and watchable, and thought of it often for a long time after we left the theater.

I got my contract from Neverworlds, and payment is on the way. Hurray! I also received an e-mail from a poetry editor tonight, someone I've sold work to in the past, asking me to submit again. Not promising an acceptance, of course, but it's still nice to be asked, and they tell me that reader response to my last poem has been very positive, which is good to hear. It's been a good week for happy-making e-mail; maybe some ordinary acceptances/rejections will trickle in. I hear Gothic.net has been rejecting people lately, so my rejection should be along anytime now-- it's almost certain to be a rejection, as upon reflection I think that the story's not right for them. We'll see, though; maybe I'm wrong. I have several other pieces out to online magazines, and while I'm not biting my nails over any particular submission, there is a certain cumulative effect, making me mildly anxious. I haven't heard anything about my stories, via e-mail or postal mail, in a while, except for a friendly bounce from Gordon Van Gelder.

And the June Asimov's is out, the issue in which my poem "Incident" had been scheduled to appear, until it got bumped. So that's sorta sad. I hope the poem comes out soon...

I won't even talk about my poem that's gathering dust at Weird Tales. They paid me already (months and months ago), and that's nice, but publication would be nicer...

Heh. I get a story solicited out of the blue, and another editor asks me to submit some poetry, and I still complain. As M'ris says, I'd kick if they hung me with a silk rope.

I should sleep soon; maybe some nice non-caffeinated tea will help put me out. That's an idea.

Tomorrow, I have some errand-running to do, and much packing. I'm going up to the Bay tomorrow afternoon to visit Karen, and then to Heather's (she's letting me crash with her so I don't have to drive home, as I'd just have to drive back on Tuesday). Tuesday I'm going to see M'ris and Timprov, and then on Wednesday I fly away (have I told you all this already? It seems familiar to me as I write it).

I love Santa Cruz (a lot), but there would be some obvious advantages to living in the Bay Area. Namely, fewer long treks. Then again, I'd drive down to Santa Cruz often to see Scott, so maybe it wouldn't be so different.

Always to-ing and fro-ing. But I'm going to such good places, to see such good people, that I don't really mind at all.