Creeping furtherRighty-o, here's the Rapido Rundown: lopped off a big hank o' hair, so now I look twelve. That's good timing, since I turn 29 in a few weeks. One of my goldfish had anchor worms, which meant I got to yank them off with tweezers and then daub Neosporin on the suck-spots. I had no idea that fiches would present such strange situations.
Got REAL mad over a certain Horrifying Political Thing, and y'all know what that means: story. Been head-first in Real Mad Political Story for a week now.
Saw my Favorite in Atlanta; taking a couple days off to rescue him briefly from his tour was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I may have tricked Geoff Cooper into going to see their tour this weekend. I can't WAIT for the phone call - "What the fuck is WRONG with you, liking that shit? Why the fuck were there fat naked men wearing gorilla masks in the audience?"
The show in Atlanta reminded me how old I was (it was all-ages; it's been years since I last went to an all-ages show, YEARS, and I felt elderly at that one, too) - but I still give the a-okay to the kids, because they had the good sense to go see my Favorite's band.
I'm on the writer's diet of necessity: rice and boullion. Mmm. Payday's just around the corner, and I can eat things that require knives then. Hurray. Knives!
In the mean time, it's back to the Real Mad Story. Grrrr! Mad! Real mad!
posted by Mehitobel Wilson at 4:45 PM
July!July's pretty cool so far. I've already broken all knuckles knocking wood, so the best I can do now is flap pulp against woodgrain laminate.
SKINS OF YOUTH seems to be selling well, plus I got the hardcovers last week and they are foxy. They're far more elegant than I'd expected.
It's been two weeks, and nobody's written me yet to say that my story on Chi sucks. Made it this far, only a few more months to go.
I get to see my Favorite in a week during a mid-tour Atlanta rendezvous. My boss is no longer employed here: those of you who have ever asked "what's your day job" and watched me start trembling and hemorrhaging from the eyes know how big of a deal this is. My paycheck for the Chi story bought me (with a pitch-in from Robert, who seems to have come out on top since he keeps it in his room) a PS2,
Grand Theft Auto 3, and
Tekken Tag Tournament. Due to the grip GTA3 got on him, I haven't seen Robert in a week. I do like the game, but I really dig fighting games the most, so I'm partial to Tekken. (Meanwhile, I'm getting my directional-pad fingers in shape for the eventual but as-yet-unannounced release of
Soul Calibur for PS2. I have faith. I desire Voldo.)
The gifts I received Friday from my Unnamed Friend - two 12" Outer Limits figures made by Sideshow Toy - needed a display spot. Could I just scoot Godzilla to the left and scoot the cat to the right? No. I had to completely rearrange the whole house.
Plus, I now have goldfish. Two Calico Ryukin and one Red & White Ryukin, currently cooling their fins in a small-ish tank while I wait for their big final permanent tank to get ready. The big tank is the Zen Garden Tank. When the Ryukin move in to that one, the small tank - the Beijing Garden Tank - will get one special fish.
I'm OBSESSED with the fishes. Ob-sessed. It's out of control and it only just started.
But, lord, I went to PetSmart today to see what they had in stock, and - okay, bear in mind that all the zillion tanks cycle through a central filtration/water exchange system, so basically it's one gigantor tank will lots of little nodes, which means all Bad Things are distributed through all the tanks - anyway, and I only looked at the goldfish. I didn't even examine all the other guys just out of curiosity, because it didn't take me long at all to discover a clot of, oh, at least fifteen DEAD juvenile Moors clustered in the upper corner of their tank. How do dead, tattered fish "cluster?" Why, they're all sucked up against the filter intake, that's how.
Accidents happen, fish die. But a whole handful of fish left long enough to begin to rot, that's appalling. Add to this that the store's letting ALL their other tanks be further poisoned by the full-fledged filter distribution of DEAD DECAYING FISH BITS, and... well, trust me, I left promptly. That, my dears, is inhumane. Can't do anything for the dead fish, no, but you can at least - at the very least - try not to kill all the other fish in the whole store. Argh!
And now you're thinking, "Gawd, Bel hasn't raved about a book since I can remember. What's up with that?" Oh, I rave, alright, but not in positive ways. I'm having a holy hell of a time finding anything good. Crud.
So, you people, you're demanding, and it's a pain. "When are you gonna do a collection?" "Give me three years, two, one." Okay, well, now that I'm in the home stretch of collection-preparedness, you guys are all calling me lazy for not having written a novel yet. Lazy?! Why, I oughta...
... get back to work.
(grr.)
posted by Mehitobel Wilson at 11:21 AM 
