Monday, June 21, 2004
So, today I really do have to go frelling shopping, having put it off almost as long as I can. At least there will no weekend crowds.
I hope that there will be time tomorrow to proof "Night Story, 1973." And I'm also hoping that its inclusion in The Last Pentacle of the Sun leads to a few people picking up the book, people who might not have picked it up otherwise. After all, this story, co-written by me and Poppy, and concerning Ghost's childhood, has only previously been published in the sold-out From Weird and Distant Shores.
The brown thrasher (Toxostoma rufum) who built her nest outside our bedroom window now has newly hatched nestlings. Which seems appropriate for the first day of summer. Though, truthfully, I count the first day of summer from the beginning of June, following my childhood calendar of summer vacations.
My thanks to Matt Williams for an amusing e-mail this morning. He writes (of the blog/LJ):
Thanks for providing me with something to read while I should be working; the obvious suffering that you endure for your art makes me feel almost guilty about thanking you for the books.
As well you should, Matt. At last, someone who understands!
Last night, right about 3 a.m., Spooky and I finished up The Chronicles of Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay. Wow. What a totally drad game. This is what games should be. The story was not an afterthought, but the main attraction. Indeed, there's more story here than in Peter Chung's Dark Fury. I cannot recommend this game strongly enough. But always rent before you buy, as your tastes may differ from mine, and I'd hate to be responsible for someone spending $50 on a game they wind up hating. It took us about 21 hours to play, which is fair enough. Thanks again to Greg, for such a fine and lingering -0th birthday present, and to the phorum gang for giving me the XBox.
Only a couple of days remaining until we leave for Kingston (and Saunderstown, and Providence, and Boston, and NYC, and Cape Ann, and all those other destinations). I wish I traveled better.
If I stop writing and end this entry, I have to go brush my teeth, and exercise, and get dressed, and go out into the sun to buy frelling clothes. Would that I could think of about ten thousand more words worth putting down here this morning...
11:57 AM
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