Thursday, February 26, 2004
I slept hard last night, which I very rarely ever do. Spooky woke me towards dawn to show me the snow. We got less than an inch, but it was pretty coming down. Now it's just a melting crust.
Yesterday, I wrote 739 words on "Rappaccini's Dragon" in about four and a half hours, and finished part 3 of the story. The words came with great difficulty. That doesn't happen as often as it used to. Hopefully, it'll go a little easier today. What music did I write to yesterday? Radiohead. Elliot Smith. Thea Gilmore.
I fixed chili, with lots of lime and tequila and portabella mushrooms. I forgot to exercise. I watched Angel, and it was another particularly good episode, especially since Fred had become a favorite character. Ah, well. Now a sexy, kick-ass demon thing is inhabiting her corpse. It could have worked out worse. Mostly, I was too exhausted from writing to do much else.
We still haven't had time to get Silk and Threshold merch up in the Species of One shop, but there are lot's of other goodies.
|
|
