Black Blood Blues

Crap-feeling today, from moment one. My period started yesterday, which may be the root cause, so I’m bleeding and exhausted and all my creativity seems to be leaking out the less-usual end of me. However, this did give me time and impetus to read the prologue and first three chapters (offered through ChiZine Publications) of Daniel A. Rabuzzi’s The Choir Boats, which is…really amazing. Gorgeous language, a neat-o premise (vaguely King in Yellow-derived or perhaps -allied), good characters, creepy world-building. There’s a general sense of mist and strangeness and over-education which I find intoxicating, so when this does come out anywhere I can snap it up, I will. And I’ll try not to feel too bad about my sprawling-ass porno epic, in comparison.

Otherwise: I owe a column to FearZone, feedback to Richard Gavin, and some sort of response to my father, who sent me a play the other night with absolutely nothing else attached. It seems to be about Edvard Munch. Oh, and Steve watched Role Models, which is very funny and oddly touching, occasionally in a “bad touch” sort of way. As with most comedies we rent, I watched it sidelong at best, over his shoulder. (We also got Twilight, for my sins, and bought Season Four of Lost, so now we can maybe get at least halfway caught up, even though we obviously haven’t seen anything of Season Five thus far.)

And now Rod is here, so I have to make coffee, eat and try to hammer out 500 words on something. Luckily, this phase never lasts too long; I just need to make sure it doesn’t throw me off my game for the whole rest of the week, especially since Mom’s back on Sunday.

Words for Today: Achieved

FearZone column, on Todd Grimson's lost slackerpunk vampire classic Stainless, achieved and sent: 1,048 words (much of that quotes). The rest of the day I spent trying to fix yet another fuck-up, which was that I'd scheduled my tax appointment--itself already shifted once, in order to go to Ad Astra--on the same day my mother want to take me to see Madame Butterfly for "my birthday". Finally done, so screw it. I'd really, really like to clock some real work later on, but I guess we'll see.

Oh, and didn't work out, either! My life-skills lack is showing.