Low Red Moon journal

        Sunday, December 03, 2006

        Yesterday turned into an unexpected day off. Not merely one of those terrible days when I sit at the iBook all damn day trying to write, to no avail, but an actual unexpected day off. Exhaustion and a series of especially nasty dreams on Saturday morning left me...what's the right word or phrase? Shell-shocked, I think. I sat here for two hours, staring at the computer screen and finally said what the fuck. I sometimes — very rarely, much more rarely than I once did — allow myself that luxury, of saying "what the fuck," being "my own boss" and all. I just could not find the heart (or, perhaps, the stomach) to drive myself forward yesterday. The deadlines and bills and Other Practical Matters just did not seem as important as my getting some rest and trying to clear my head. So, yeah, that's how yesterday began.

        It was a little warmer out than I'd expected it to be, and Spooky and I took an especially long walk. We crossed Moreland and followed Sinclair Ave. past the dinosaur all the way down to Carmel Ave. NE (just south of the Carter Center), where we turned northwest, then turned northeast and followed North Highland Ave. NE back to L5P. The day was so bright. The sky was too clear for comfort.

        I can't remember much about the dreams, as I made a concerted effort yesterday not to remember them. Just let it go for once. Let it fade. As Deacon would say, "It's only brain garbage," anyway. Today, I can recall only one small bit. Drifting in space far above the Earth, watching the continents and seas shift their positions. Supercontinents broke apart and glided silently across the globe, smashing into one another and forming new supercontinents, configurations which were, in turn, once again torn apart by subduction and sea-floor-spreading. The break-up of Rodinia, then Pannotia — splitting into Baltica, Siberia, Gondwana, Laurasia. The formation of Pangea, and then watching Pangea fragment. Eventually, the continents and seas were in their present-day positions, but they continued moving. And I didn't want to watch anymore. The dream, all of it, was beautiful beyond my ability to describe beauty, but it was equally sad and terrifying. Whatever else I dreamt, before or after this bit, I can't recall. But I said that already.

        There's not much else to yesterday. We had Thai for dinner. I dumped the soundtrack to The Fountain onto my iPod. I went to two DVD rental places, but rented nothing. I heard news that there's a special edition of The Cure's Disintegration coming soon, which made me happy. I played roughly with Hubero. More Final Fantasy XII. At sunset, the moon was the most startlingly bright shade of white, and the lunar geography seemed especially clear (to the naked eye), while the western horizon turned a colour that was almost turquoise, streaked with pink clouds. I think that's everything that is in any way significant about yesterday.

        And I should probably wrap this up.

        I'm reposting (below) the information regarding the new subpress mini interview, in case you missed it yesterday:

        The aforementioned Sirenia Digest mini interview is now up at Subterranean Press. Just click here. Also, subpress has kindly posted an excerpt from "The Cryomancer's Daughter (Murder Ballad No. 3)" (from Sirenia Digest No. 8, July '06), which you can reach by clicking here. Or, you may reach both from the subpress news page (click, then scroll down). I'm hoping we see a few more subscribers. As They say, our operators are standing by. Also, Saturday Dec. 2nd, proclaims the platypus, is a grand day to pre-order Tales from the Woeful Platypus.

        Note that part of the fourth question is missing. It should read: SubPress: And just what do you mean when you talk about what the Sirenia Digest website calls "darkly fantastic erotica"?


        10:30 AM


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        Low Red Moon journal
        Being a daily record of the writing of Caitlin's next novel

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