Twelve-hour, high-stress days at the Workplace and trying to deal with the end of the lease on the flat and all that implies. This is one of those Very Low Points that seem to turn up every six months or so. It will pass, and soon, too. More in a few days.
6:47 p.m.
Dear Diary,
Tonight I discovered Goat’s Milk Yogurt. It’s dreamy.
6:49 p.m.
Dear Sour Cream,
I think we need to start seeing other people.
- J
6:52 p.m.
Dear Diary,
I don’t know…I’m sooooo into him, but every once in a while I just think, “OMG, this was squeezed out of a goat.”
6:58 p.m.
Dear Goat’s Milk Yogurt,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Where you come from makes you who you are. And I love who you are. Except I’m kind of pissed you read my diary.
Oh who am I kidding — I can’t stay mad at you.
Love,
Jane
Alas, my alarm is set for 5:00 a.m. so I can get the train from Euston to Upnorthingham for a winner take all Halo 3 death match IT meeting. So the Paris update is as follows:
It’s still there, and still lovely.
Also: Hanging out with Michael and Linda Moorcock is a damn nifty thing to do. I taught Linda how to get streaming NPR on her laptop, and she taught me to pronounce Michael Chabon’s last name.* I got the better deal, because the contradictory pronunciations I’ve been hearing have been making me crazy-like.
*It’s SHAYbun
Paris update tomorrow (by which I mean “the day after today” in contrast to the usage below, which apparently means “an undetermined day in the same week as the 31st of Never”). In the meantime I will note the following:
1. While my conscious mind is navigating my short-term career path, my unconscious mind is colluding with my shoulders to send messages of their own in the form of an elaborate system of knots. It’s like khipu back there. Message received, rogue body and soul parts — now loosen up, please.
2. Treading down “career path” to a segue: during the second week of Clarion West Andy Duncan advised me to “work retail”, by which he meant that I should not get so sucked into any career that I neglected to write. The fabulous Mr. Duncan has kindly mentioned me on his nifty blog, Beluthahatchie.
Last night I was too exhausted to make with the blogging, and now I’m running off to Paris until Sunday. More then.
Yipes, it’s already after 1:00 a.m., and I haven’t tackled the next twenty-one memelets. Since I need to get some sleep I will instead pass along from DJ Cherrybomb the note that you lucky PNWerners are within striking distance of the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival in Portland, Oregon this weekend.
The rest of us will just have to content ourselves with shopping at the Arkham Bazaar. Must…acquire…Yellow Sign baseball cap…
More Booky von Bookiness tomorrow.