Tag: writing

Don’t you want your daddy to feel all right?

What went before: I forgot to mention earlier that On This Date in 2018, the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory moved from its long-term country location to the city.

So, that’s 1,056 new words, including having to stop for the fun game of Name The Scouts. WIP now more-or-less 31,620 total words.

I have confirmed that Steve named Captain yos’Thadi’s ship at least partially for his high school English teacher — thanks, Shirley!

Quitting now in order to serve Happy Hour in about half and hour, then reviewing ASL homework again.

In the meanwhile, I’ve got some tidying up for the evening to do, including grabbing Tali and brushing her, which is — eh 50/50 chance. She cannot be shamed, and the fact that All The OTHER Cats have been groomed today means nothing to her.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Sunny and warm, heading for warmer. It was a struggle to get out of bed this morning. Woke up twice, went back to sleep, and was seriously tempted to try for a personal best of three naps before officially getting up.

Breakfast was PB&J on a toasted English muffin, accompanied in part by the Dead’s “Good Lovin'”. I have not one clue about lunch; hate to do a salad again, because, while veggies are Good for Us, boring meals do not fill one with a desire to eat.

So, this morning I was planning on going out to the Agway and foraging for eyelets so I could make my webbing in the laundry room closet. However! I was in Steve’s office, muttering about this plan, and opened the closet door for — I have no idea, really — and a wire shelf that I guess had been leaning against the wall, fell out on me (no worries; it’s not a big shelf). And I stood there like a dummy, staring at it for two long minutes before I picked it up and took it to the laundry room, where I slid it easily into the upper space where Steve’s stacking had failed under unusual stress, and I was going to install rope webbing.

. . .by the way, that thready organ line in the background of “Rebel Yell”? Is worth the whole song, right there.

Anyhoots, problem solved and I don’t have to go out to Agway this morning, but! I do need to go out to get milk, and while I’m at the shopping center, I may do a tour of TJMaxx, just because it’s there.

There are various other items on the to-do list, including getting the trash into the garage in preparation for the Grand March to the curb, tomorrow morning. Calling to reserve a place in a glass-blowing class while I’m at Corning — yes, I decided that I will regret it forever, if I don’t at least TRY to blow glass — gathering up the pieces of that possible chapbook, and registering the washer and dryer. Also, writing. I want to finish the section I started yesterday, which is, for those who are curious, the prologue.

My mailbag has been interesting these last couple days. Today’s question is: Why did I “have” Tekelia go to Visalee with All Those Stops? Boorrrrriiiiiinnnngg.

Short answer: Like it says in the book, Tekelia had to go to Visalee (by the way, I do not advise anyone who values their peace of mind to attempt to “have” Tekelia do anydamnthing) to bring Blays back to Ribbon Dance Village. The reason there were so many stops is that Tekelia is not a superperson — Visalee is a long distance, and refueling was required.

Longer answer: Because not only did Blays need to be fetched, and the fact that Tekelia has limits established, but The Reader had to become familiar with the Counsels to Chaos, and the geography of Colemeno beyond the city, as well as to set up Wildege. I’m actually fairly proud of using that trip to accomplish multiple pieces of work that would be important later on in the book.

Slightly snarky answer: It’s always wise to recall that one person’s too much cake/meetings/trading/accountants/icky-kissy-stuff is another person’s Oh, perfect! Since there is no possible chance that I’m going to please everybody, I aim to please myself.

All righty, then! Who else is out of milk?

Yes, today’s blog title from the Grateful Dead, “Good Lovin‘”

Yesterday’s coworkers:

. . . and whether pigs have wings

What went before: Sigh.

No fewer than three people have wished me to know that Amazon is holding its Really Big Sale this year during Independent Booksellers Week.

Thank you all for your concern. I am aware that the Large Waterway is scum. I am aware that there is nothing to stop them from having their sale whenever they want to have their sale, even if they’re knowingly playing dirty pool.

However.

Why do writers write? *shrugs* Probably there are as many reasons as there are writers, though I suspect we all share two reasons: We want people to BUY our books and! We want people to READ our books. Note the order of those two items.

Like lesser mortals, writers need money to pay for food, for heat, for rent, for meds, for cat food, and all like that. They therefore put their books on sale everywhere that will pay them a percentage of each sale — big markets, little markets, libraries…wherever.

As a private person, I can deplore a market’s morals. As a writer, am I going to pull my books from said market, so long as they pay me? I am not. Am I a Bad Person, my pool cue as dirty as said market’s table? No. I’m not.

And why is that? Here you go —

I can put my books on sale wherever I please. But I can’t make you buy them  from any particular market. Witness the folks who would rather buy books from Enormous River rather than from the Uncle. The point here is not so much author choice (sell books widely; maybe make the rent this month) as it is buyer’s choice (Big Market Bad; I shall buy from a market that is more pleasing to myself).

Asking me to pull my books from a market that accounts for 90+% of my sales is asking me to live outdoors, or starve my cats, and I won’t willingly do either of those things. Buy my books someplace else — your favorite indie bookstore, for an example.  You Have the Power!

End of this lecture in Writer Economics 101.

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Sunday. Raining and chilly. Steve’s good, heavy, red-and-black flannel shirt is once again pressed into use. This garment has been endlessly useful.

Breakfast was refried grilled veggies with cheese. Lunch will be a salad and soup.

Rook’s tail was following him around and he decided to blame it on Tali, so they’ve been wrasslin’ through three rooms. Firefly is acting as ref. Trooper is visiting Steve in his office.

Did some plotting yesterday. Today I hope for new words.

From the mailbag: Do I have my BaltiCon schedule yet?

Short Answer: Er. No. I received a draft schedule, which was … inadequate …  mostly due to the fact that I had not been given a login to the scheduling program, and so couldn’t choose faces. I thought that was straightened out, but I haven’t heard anything else.

Expansion: I would sort of like to have a schedule ahead of arrival, since I like to, oh, prepare. And, also, this is very likely the last time I’ll in-person at a convention, and I also know from the mailbag that there are people who are coming only to see me, or waiting to see the schedule before deciding (which is flattering, but BaltiCon’s a good con; lots more things to do than hang out with an aging, taciturn SciFi writer, so you should definitely come, if you’re thinking about it at all).

In regard to planning ahead, I’m thinking that, if I turn out to be basically on my own, I could wander about the convention doing pop-up readings. My memory of the space isn’t great, but there must be corners, nooks, back tables in the consuite where people could gather and I could read for a bit.

So, here’s the place where you guys can help me out: If you have a favorite scene or story that you would like to hear read aloud, let me know in comments.

Other than all of that — what’s going on with you today?

Today’s blog post from Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, “The Walrus and the Carpenter.”  Yes, I do quote from Alice rather a lot.

Photograph from last night’s special Hall Blocker’s Meeting, in  which Hall Blocker Emeritus Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper tutors the club’s youngers in Basic Short Hall Technique.

Suddenly, it’s summer

What went before:  I will today condense yesterday, rather than simply cut’n pasting from Facebook as the thing unfolded.

Shortest Form:  Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. (And if you have not read this classic by Judith Viorst, do it now.)

Abridged Form:  The appliance installers arrived around 10:00, much earlier than I had anticipated, but they failed to call in advance, so the cats were still at large.  I managed to get Firefly, Trooper, and Tali into the basement, and closed the door, but Rook had taken shelter — in the laundry room, as I discovered when I escorted the team leader — henceforthly referred to as Installer A — there to show him what he had to work with.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to catch Rook, and then — he disappeared, which was Very Worrisome.

More worrisome was the discovery by Installer A that the water cut-off switch only cut off the hot water, and the cold water was free-flowing.  He decided to go forward with the install, after requesting a few towels, to handle the spillage.

SPOILER:  A few towels wasn’t enough.

Installers A and B got the old machine out and the new machine in, and this is where it went bad.  Water began to spurt EVERYwhere.  Flooding ensued, including a vast rainstorm into the basement (yes, where I had cleverly sequestered three out of possible four cats).

Installer A ran downstairs and began flipping cutoffs. I, of course, did not know where the main water cutoff was, because Steve knew, and while he might have told me once, I didn’t remember.

Leaping forward — a plumber was called in.  He replaced the faulty cut-off switch, and then, at my request, took me on a tour of the basement, telling me what the various cut-off switches where, and resetting them as we went, and where the main water cutoff was and which direction to turn it in order to shut everything down.  While he was here, the plumber also repaired the bathtub faucet.  Yes, I expect a bill in excess of what I saved on the appliances on “really good sale.”

So, the laundry room, which includes a closet, with things that sit on the floor of the closet, was flooded; the basement was flooded, the cats were traumatized, and Rook was still missing.

Eventually, everybody left, and I began to clean up the mess.

Whereupon Rook reappeared, and there was much rejoicing.

Everything is dry now, with the exception of an area rug in the basement, which I have the space heater on the case, because the rug is too heavy for me to get outside into the lovely warm sunshine.

And that?  Brings you up-to-date.

Onward.

Thursday. Sunny, warm, bird song coming in the open windows OR!

Suddenly, It’s Summer. Girls in shorts running; motorcycles roaring up and down the road, two-by-two. I turned off the oil heat; we’ll let the heat pumps handle it from here.

I did accomplish two accomplishments yesterday in the Midst of It All. I found the name of the Scout captain and first mate on Chandra Marudas, and! that Bechimo was the first modern smartship to come out of the Carresens Yards, built in response to Trader Jethri Gobelyn’s release of the Envidaria.

Last night after I signed off, found those two pieces of information, and treated a nosebleed, I sat down with a glass of wine and realized that, indeed, I was too tired to think straight, much less read either of my books, so I went to bed, put on my fancy wireless headphones, and listened to All Conditions Red while dozing, and eventually falling asleep.

Breakfast was a toasted English muffin with cream cheese and blueberry/ginger jam. Finishing up my first cup of tea.

Today, I am waiting for the pest control guy to come and put back the things that fell in the process of his inspection.

Speaking of Things That Fell, one of Steve’s brilliant kludges gave up its work yesterday, among All the rest of It All. This means I will need to produce a kludge of mine own. Since I don’t approach Steve’s skills in free-balancing large objects (small-object balancing is my skill-set), I will need to make a web, which means buying some rope and some eyelets. If the pest control tech gets here on the 10:00 side of his window, maybe I’ll do that this morning, as well as swing by the grocery.

For those keeping score at home, the new washer and dryer are doing splendidly, much to be preferred over the old.

Oh. Fans of Rookie the Cookie will be pleased to know that — no, he did not destroy my chair in order to shelter from the Invasion of the Appliance People. The chair in question has a foot-rest that folds into the chair, and there’s a space between where the foot-rest folds under and the underneath of the chair, like a little shelf. And that’s apparently where he was hiding.

Anyhoots. ASL tonight. Cats are around and about. Hoping for an Extremely Low Key Day here.

What’s going on with you?

Many pics below.  Click on the thumbnail for a bigger view.

It’s no better to be safe than sorry

What went before ONE: I’ve shifted some furniture, and I think we’re good for tomorrow. There’s plenty of room to get the old machines OUT, and the new machines are smaller, ergo.

My one — well, two — remaining worries are (1) timing (no phone call from Home Despot yet) and (2) where am I going to put the cats while this is going on? Rookie has an Unhealthy Interest in the front door, so I don’t quite trust them all to just run downstairs like sensible cats…

I guess I could try to toss them into my bathroom, though catching Tali isn’t by any means easy…

What went before TWO: In case anybody cares, kinematic equations are those equations that can be used to predict unknown information regarding an object’s motion. If you know three of four variables, then the fourth can be calculated.

The four variables are: displacement, time, acceleration, velocity.

My head now hurts, but the worst part is that I’m pretty sure I don’t have enough of a grasp to actually use this information for what I thought I wanted to use it for.
When they tell writers to “Write what you know”? What that means is that you’ll spend a lot of time reading about Z until you know (enough about) Z to write about it.

What went before THREE: Tomorrow! I can look for the delivery of my washer and dryer between the hours of 7:30 and 11:30!

Sigh.

In other news, the lawn guy — that is to say, One. Single. Guy. with a blower on his back, has been doing Spring Cleanup at my place since 1:00. I’m getting a *little* tired of the noise, though honestly it was perfect for doing ASL. I can’t imagine where the lawn guy’s head is. He is wearing earphones, but The Long Back Yard really IS long, and four hours is a LONG time to vacuum leaves.

Well. I have Imposed Structure on the WIP. I was going to read through it to make sure it made sense this way, but, um. Maybe tomorrow. While I’m getting up early and waiting for the delivery guys. And, hey. An “early” delivery means I can start in washing clothes before moonrise.

For lunch, I made some kind of bean stew that turned out really well, which is good, because I have a lot left over.

EDITED TO ADD: And help has arrived for my Lone Lawn Guy in the shape of another guy and a truck with a serious vacuum, which is sucking up the Big Pile of Leaves in the driveway.

Wednesday. Sun coming up bright and ambitious.

The Wait for the Washer hasn’t quite started, but I thought, just in case I happen to be first on the list, that I should be awake. So! Kettle’s on for tea, and Classic Rewind is on for music.

As soon as I have my tea, I’m hitting the comfy chair — no better not. Better find something to eat. Anyway, first thing up, after caffeine and breakfast is a review of the WIP in its adjusted shape.

I’ve unplugged the resident washer and dryer, but the delivery crew better — ah, “Werewolves of London” on the radio — have a wrench, ’cause there’s No Way I’m getting the hoses off of the washer.

That’s all I’ve got this early.

Here — have a picture of the Long Back Yard.

…I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic’s and his hair was perfect…

EDITED TO ADD: This Just In! Delivery now scheduled between 9:30 and 1:30. So clearly, I’m not the first on the list. Also? Plot Twist! I need to have an adult present to sign. I wonder if the next door neighbor’s home.

Today’s blog post brought to you by Ah-Ha, “Take On Me”  (I have always loved this video, but then, I tend to like stories about people Becoming…)

Well, how did I get here?

What went before ONE: Aaaand, back. Home Despot only had part of what I wanted, but I did not go to Augusta. Instead I went to the new Reny’s, which is awesome. I bought a plastic folding table for less than $10, which I can sit out on the deck with my chair and have a place to put my tea or my glass of wine, or even my sandwich. I bought olives and soup, and a pair of summer-weight Carhartt utility jeans. But that’s not the Exciting Part.

The Exciting Part is that Reny’s Heard Me and now has a Reny’s Passport! You have to visit all nineteen Reny’s in Maine, and get your passport stamped at each one, then submit it for a chance at the Grand Prize! They’ll even return your passport after the contest is over.

I got my passport stamped at Waterville today — only 18 more to go!

What went before TWO: And, I now need a Big Umbrella, because the little open-sided tent took two of us to put up — and it wasn’t easy, even with. So! I have something to shop for at the next Reny’s on my list.

What went before THREE: I just spent some time breaking down a few of Winter’s Boxes and getting them into the open recycling bin for delivery to the curb tomorrow. I do not think there is a movie on my schedule this evening. I have an Idea about What Happens Next in the WIP.

Time to fix lunch, eh?

What went before FOUR: Writing consisted of Staring into Space, and trying to figure out how to get lightly through a convoluted piece of business without boring myself to death. I think I’ve got it. Of course, I thought that earlier, too.

And, that? Is the afternoon/early evening report.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Damp, but they say no rain. Trash and recycling, including the boxes I broke down yesterday, are at the curb.

Today’s music is one of my favorites, “Once in a Lifetime,” Talking Heads. One of the two major songs that Agent of Change was written to. There was a mini-commentary from one of the band members before Mr. Hunter put on the music, speaking to why this song was Talking Heads first Number One. Said bandmate’s opinion was it had been the line, “How did I get here?” that sold it to the millions, and he may be right. All I know is that the line that sold it to me, for Val Con, was “My god. What have I done?” And — bonus — the muttering at the end about “and now a twister comes…”

I see the signs of a feline decorating aesthetic on and around my desk. Why, yes, that pen does look better under the adding machine; and the Kleenex box on the floor, angled against the wheels of my chair. Why didn’t I think of this?

Breakfast coming up soon — pb&j on a whole wheat English muffin. I have leftover pork, so I guess that’s lunch in some form.

Today is partially about Moving Things for the Grand Arrival of the Washer and Dryer, tomorrow at an as-yet undetermined time. Also, I want to get some writing done.

I don’t know if it works this way for anybody else, and, indeed, it only works this way for me some of the time — but I have to hit a certain Mass of Narrative before I understand the structure that has to be imposed in order to have All of This, err, make sense. I know they tell you in English/Writing class that structure is one of the first things you determine. Bear in mind that, in class, they also tell you that you have to know the POV’s motivation before writing Word One. Yes, if I roll my eyes any harder they will roll right out of my head, thank you.

So! Breakfast for me, coming right up.

What’s coming right up for you?

Today’s blog title brought to you, naturally, from The Talking Heads, “Once in a Lifetime”

EDITED TO ADD, because someone did ask: The other song Agent of Change was written to is was also from The Talking Heads, and it is, of course, “Life During Wartime,” which is basically the plot of Agent of Change...

The wheel in the sky keeps on turning

What went before ONE: And back from dancing. I was the New Kid. It was interesting and everyone was good-natured and very kind. I may have been the only one in the room who had never had theater or dance in my background, and I include the two Littles who were part of our group.

I notice a cross-over between ASL and some of the “body-speak” going on in dance. I suppose if I pursue it, I’ll have yet another physical language under my belt.

I got to interact, very briefly, with the bowli ball’s older, bigger, and more sullen brother. It was too big and goopy to perform the antics of an actual bowli ball. Instead of a gyroscope heart, it had a — what? bag of mud — that made for interesting shifts of velocity, weight, and … squishiness. Not good for tournament play, but an interesting item nonetheless.

After class, I went down Main Street a bit, stopped at Incense and Peppermints to see what they’re doing with the increased space, then Smitty’s Book Cellar to introduce myself and give out a couple cards.

I grabbed some pretzels when I got in, but I think that’s not quite lunch, so a salad it is.

The temperature has cracked 60F/16C; still cloudy and mizzling, off and on.

I hear through the dance class that next Saturday is World Tai Chi Day. Who’s participating?

What went before TWO: 830ish new words, which means! The WIP has cracked 30,000! +/-30,250. Pretty good for a day when I thought I wouldn’t be writing.

Defrosting some Smithfield boneless pork chops for tomorrow’s making-ahead, and also lunch.

The cats have had Happy Hour and Trooper wished to Take Exception to my coming back to the keyboard to finish the scene, so we had to have That Discussion again — the one that makes no sense? About how the clackity-clack on the keys makes cat food? Yeah, that one. He did lay down and go to sleep though, and I finished my scene. So there is that.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Intermittently cloudy and not. Breezy with gusts. Weatherbeans have put out a fire caution; calling for a high temp of 50F/10C. It rained on the overnight.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs with potato and onion, and a side of toast with blueberry-ginger jam, which was actually a bigger breakfast than I usually indulge in, so lunch plans may be adjusted accordingly.

This is Easter Sunday for those who celebrate. When Steve and I first got together, we celebrated by going to BaltiCon. Afteryears, Easter usually snuck up on us. We had the Convention Calendar in our heads and could mostly tell you which cons were on any given weekend, but Easter? Eh–a moveable lay (i.e. non-SF) feast that didn’t have much to do with us.

For those who are interested in cat placement, Trooper is at the moment sitting upright on my lap, purring, and making it easy for me to type. Rook is sprawled at the end of the desk, apparently chewing on the philosophical conversation we had this morning, when he found Tali already in my lap when he wanted to be there. How is it possible that I love him for being The Best Rookie AND Tali for being The Best Tali? This wants Thinking Over.

Second cup of tea brewing.

After I finish my morning letter to the internets, I have some stuff to do downstairs, and then I intend to catch up on all those things I failed to do last week by reason, I guess, of doing other things instead. And do my first pass through the ASL homework.

Directing my gaze into next week — there’s another movie-and-learned-discourse on Monday night; the movie is “Brick.” I may or may not attend. The movie looks interesting, but I have a limited capacity for leaned discourse on the Metaphors of Violence in Cinema.

On Wednesday, my new washer-and-dryer will be delivered, and the sales rep directed me to save up my dirty clothes and start washing the minute the delivery van cleared the driveway, because there’s a 48-hour, if-it’s-wrong-we’ll-make-it-right-today LG policy IF the wrong is reported within 48 hours. So! Laundry Party at Rolanni’s House! Bring snacks.

Thursday evening is of course ASL class. Before that is the Return of the Pest Control Guy, who will be replacing the things he knocked down during his inspection two weeks ago.

I have started reading The Savage, Noble Death of Babs Dionne (by Ron Currie, a Maine author) and in-between am re-reading Sea Wrack and Changewind (by Sharon Lee, another Maine author). Not sure why I got started on that, except it was at my place when I sat down to eat lunch a couple days ago, and one must read something.

My redecorated office door looks very nice in the sunshine. Very glad I decided to take that on.

And that? Is what’s doing at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What’s doing at your place?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Journey, “Wheel in the Sky”

Cat census and redecorated office door:

Friday Good

What went before ONE: This just in, Diviner’s Bow, by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller is still in the top 50 of Bookscan’s new book releases in SF. Number 39.

That’s … a surprise. A pleasant surprise, mind.

Thank you all!

What went before TWO: With the handwritten scene (I had misremembered; I didn’t have two scenes; I had one scene and Copious Notes), the WIP Entire now weighs in at +/-29,400 words.

I am now going to do a Lightning Review of my ASL homework and? Go to school.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Sunny, warm, and breezy. The wind chimes are humming to themselves outside my office window.

Breakfast was bialy with cream cheese and a side of strawberries.  Lunch will be turkey cutlet (now fully defrosted) and spinach.

I have been up for hours. However, much of that time has been trying to figure out who’s calling me from Northern Light Medical Center. I answer the phone, the person on the other end says, “This is Rachel calling from North–” and the signal drops. I try to call back, and get a recording telling me that I’ve reached a trunk line and there ain’t no humans here.

So! Since the local hospital is going poof! and my cancer team is in Bangor and affiliated with Northern Light Health, I’ve spent an hour trying to find out if one of them has been trying to get in touch. My last hope is Theresa in Oncology, but her phone has been solidly busy for the last two hours.

Fun times. I’m supposing that I won’t answer the phone the next time it shows that ID, and see if Rachel is able to leave voice mail.

Today is Arts ‘n Crafts. Since I have never myself ever put on window film — no, that’s not true. I put window film in one of my day-job offices. So! Since I myself have Not Recently installed window film, I am going to do a Practice installation on the window in my office door. After I’ve learned what I can from that process, I’ll move on to the bathroom.

Tomorrow, there’s a free intergenerational dance class at the Greene Block, downtown, which I may try to make. I’m expecting lots of grandkids spinning in circles and yelling, which may make this a short-lived experiment, but, hey, Wild Clover’s right around the corner in case I need to bail.

Or even if I don’t.

I’ve been thinking of committing a chapbook. This one would include “Core Values,” now available to be read for free on splinteruniverse.com, “Neutral Ground,” which is a story that contains story nuggets that were then (more) fully realized in Ribbon Dance and Diviner’s Bow, and! an outtake from Ribbon Dance. I don’t know how many words that would be. “Core Values” and “Neutral Ground” combined are 21,495 words. I don’t have a word count on the outtake.

So, that may be coming down the pike, if there’s interest.

ASL class last night was fun. We seem to be down to 6 students, which encourages the social aspect of the group, so it’s part gossip and part learning new vocab. Several people now have noted that one day a week is too little to attain fluency. We really ought to form a coffee club, but we haven’t gotten to that step yet.

Tali is coming to terms with the fact that I am the sole source of cuddles, treats, and throwing things for her to chase, and is making modest attempts to jolly me along. She and Rook are in direct competition for my lap, and this morning she actually did curl up for about 2.5 seconds and purred. Then she saw that Rook was eating and had to jump down to join him.

Rook remains unshakeable in his certainty that he is the center of the universe. Firefly is pleased to read with me and is more often deliberately coming into the space I’m occupying. She does still visit Steve often. Trooper — sleeps a lot. The crying seems to be less, and I’m inclined to just let him be. He’s still playing, and eating, and seeking me out for company; he occasionally forgets what he’s doing but, hey, who doesn’t?

So, today is Good Friday, according to some traditions, and Sunday is Easter. Who has Plans?

Blast from the Past:  Steve and Sharon visiting the Augusta Barnes & Noble to check out our poster:

 

It’s still Rock ‘n Roll to me

What went before:  That? Was a very tight bit of storytelling, disguised as an aimless ramble.

And I might have not gone to see it if I had realized it was her farewell to Lou Reed.

Tuesday. Damp and warm. Trash and recycling have been escorted to the curb.

Breakfast was half a raisin-bran muffin and cottage cheese (I didn’t get cottage cheese yesterday, since Shaw’s does not carry my Preferred Sort). Lunch — eh.

Last night’s movie (Laurie Anderson’s “Heart of a Dog”) was Interesting; a little long for me, though I would be hard-put to cut anything. Well, maybe a few of the disorienting visual episodes, though, from what I know of Anderson’s music, they’re probably meticulously timed for maximum…something. Also, I was tired when I got there, so the “too long” could easily have been me, not the film.

The Colby professor, Dr. Katie Altizer (boy, they’re making PhDs young these days), Applied Music Instructor and Collaborative Pianist, gave a talk based on the good parts of a much longer paper she’d written on the film. Her husband and baby were there to support her. Theater One wasn’t packed, but nor was it empty.

Apparently these Cinema in Conversation episodes happen every now and then. I missed the first one, but there are three (?) more upcoming, so I suppose I should check the website.

Today, here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, I’ll be — anybody? — yes? Yes, you, in the yellow headband. Ah. Indeed, one’s duty to the cats, but also? Yes, person with the green hair? Yes, thank you. Writing. I made a Huge Breakthrough, and suddenly the Ideas are Flowing. So, yanno, yay.

I — what was that? What was the Huge Breakthrough? Oh. I know what the book’s about. Which I often don’t, so that’s kind of interesting, if you happen to be interested in what the inside of my head looks like.

So, a boringish day hereabouts.

Who’s having excitement today? Tell us all about it.

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Ooh. Just heard an interesting story from Alan Hunter, hosting Classic Rewind, about Billy Joel, who apparently said in an interview (somewhere, somewhen, Mr. Hunter’s recollection being unclear on the point — and understanding that I’m paraphrasing the paraphrase), that you start out making music, and you’re young and you have to strive, and you get a little single-minded about it, and you don’t notice the passage of time, because you caught up in what you do; you don’t notice that it’s not only event that passes. I (Billy Joel) look at my pictures from Madison Square Garden, and I think, “That’s not right. I got old.”

And this is exactly what it feels like, thank you Messrs Hunter and Joel. Steve and I used to talk about the artists who had the privilege of living the “Life of the Mind,” never realizing that we, too, were living such a life.

Steve never fully understood, I think, that he was no longer 30, and he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t lift That Thing anymore — what was wrong with him? — and I’m surely no older than 40, though a tired 40…

Some time back, I saw someone else talking about suddenly realizing that he was 70, but only felt, say, 40, and that, suddenly, some of the things his parents had done when they were old, made sense to him.

Random thoughts — assemble!

Or, perhaps, random cats, assemble.  Much more restful.  Yesterday afternoon’s cat census:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Billy Joel, “Still Rock ‘n Roll to Me“

An’ I don’t give a damn ’bout my bad reputation

What went before: OK, then. I’m shutting down the internet for the rest of the day, good people. I am quite apparently at the end of my rope.

Also, yes, there are typos in all of our books. As there are no perfect humans, there are no perfect books. We do our best.

Everybody have a good rest of the day. Feel free to hang out. Drinks are in the fridge; snacks in the cabinet over the sink.

Sunday. Cloudy and — I’m not sure what it’s doing out there. Precipitating. Looks thick — ah, there we are. The garage roof tells the tale — sleet, snow, and rain. What fun.

Breakfast was PB&J on an English muffin. Finishing up my first mug of tea. Lunch can go hang itself. Oh, wait. Mac ‘n cheese with a meatball cut up in it. A little light on veggies, but if we’re in Rebellion against the Tyranny of Food, any food counts.

Towels are washing. I need to change the tablecloth today. Otherwise, I have another scene to hand-draft, and I need to at least look at the ASL homework. In and around one’s duty to the cats, of course.

I did draft a substantial scene yesterday, which I’m very pleased with. Also Had A Notion, and Made A Note. Will consider that further today.

Other than that, yesterday was . . . not very pleasant. It’s lowering to realize that, at — counts on fingers — 72, I’m still so inept at people. You’d think I’d’ve learned something. Well — scary thought — I probably did learn something. Just not enough. And of course I no longer have an Emotional Support Steve, and while the cats do their best, cats are, umm. Yeah. “Rend” and “nap” are good coping mechanisms, honestly. But there’s a vast middle ground that “run” doesn’t completely address.

Speaking of cats, Trooper has two days in a row refused to eat the gravy with meds in it. He’s still eating food, except when he forgets where the food bowls are, and last night, for the first time in a long time, he engaged with the red dot, and chased it all over the living room until he he lost interest, or energy, and let the kids have at it. He sleeps a lot (yes, yes; he’s a cat, but still), and yells at me at lot when he’s awake, but I don’t know why. I don’t think he’s in pain (ref “cat”), but nothing I do, or don’t do, seems to be It. So, that continues to be worrisome, and I’ll be having a chat with the vet this week.

The book club is going to start up again in mid-May, now that people are coming back from overwintering in the warm worlds. Our first book is The Savage Noble Death of Babs Dionne, by Ron Currie, and I’ve gotten that onto my tablet to read.

I finished The Dangerous Duke last night, and started Check and Mate; …Babs Dionne and The Mysterious Marquis are on deck.

And I think that’s it from the Cat Farm this morning.

What’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Ms Joan Jett, “Bad Reputation” — the referenced video is also a history lesson, for those who are interested in the creative process, thinking outside the box, and believing in yourself.

And she could hear the highway breathing

What went before: I have had a Very Trying Afternoon. I had to yell. And then I had to drop everything and rush. And now I’m exhausted, but at least the fix is in. Or may be in. Apparently, I was supposed to have known something by telepathy, and then understand that the reason none of my questions were being answered was because — telepathy.

The pest guy dropped by in the Midst of It All, and while I transcribed/expanded/edited the scene I wrote yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to do anything new or noteworthy and I’m exhausted, did I say? Also, I want to throw things.

On the plus side, the cat’s new stainless steel fountain arrived, and I was able to wash it and set it up. The old gravity waterer is still there, to let the cats know they’re in the right place, but I intend to move it the next time it needs to be refilled.

So. It hasn’t started raining or snowing or whatever yet, that’s tomorrow. Which is another day. Possibly even a better day.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Saturday. Raining; the ‘beans say snow is possible, but only to decorate the grass and make driving interesting.

Breakfast was the last of the little potatoes fried with onion and a chopped up meatball. I made a Tactical Error some time back and bought a bag of meatballs, thinking, “But we would always eat spaghetti!” Which we would, but spaghetti for one is just too sad, so the meatballs have kind of been huddling in the back of the freezer, which is Unfair of Me, so I’m going to just add them to Things, until they’re gone, and! Lesson learned.

Oh, look, there’s snow mixed in the rain now. I hope the ‘beans are happy.

On the Fashionista Front, I am today wearing one of Steve’s toasty warm Carhartt flannel shirts with the usual jeans-of-many-pockets, and! Silver hoops in my ears. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve worn hoops in my ears.

I am hoping today for … quiet. Just — I want to sit in a comfy chair somewhere in this house with a pad of paper and a pen and sketch scenes and throw ideas around, and I really don’t think that’s too much to ask. *glares at universe*

What are your hopes for the day?

Today’s blog title brought to you by The Talking Heads, “And She Was”

Saturday morning cat census, and the Long Back Yard this morning: