Wil McCarthy's detailed dissection of the science behind an Iron Man style powered armor has done more to reveal to me why I've lately become so disinterested in writing "hard" SF than anything else I've read in recent memory. Because I don't even understand why you would want to examine the science behind a comic book. I mean, I understand that people do. But it's like... eating caterpillars. Or groping strangers in elevators. I just don't get what it would do for anyone.
We are more alien from each other than we know.
My slide away from any semblance of caring about how the actual physics work really started with Undertow, and I suspect it's only going to get worse.
Internal consistence, and sticking to my own established rules, however. That I can manage.
Today is a day off both from work and exercise, because I desperately need one. I'm going to read books and watch the Derby and drink a mint julep and eat catfish and generally not leave the house.