June 27th, 2003

bear by san


No words yesterday, because we took two friends from Seattle out touring the Great American Southwest. Whoot! Valley of Fire!

And then at around ten o'clock at night, I made burgers and my Top Secret Best Ever Incredibly Uncomplicated Margaritas. (You ready? Here's the recipe: twice as much tequila as triple sec (and) as Rose's sweetened lime juice. Serve over ice with the usual kosher salt & a twist, or sugar if you like.

That's Tequila 2: Triple Sec 1: Rose's 1 -- just to make it easier. You have to buy decent tequila for this to work properly, however, but Cuervo is decent enough. And they are goooooood, I promise.

Anyway, I fooled myself into staying up late and playing by saying I would blow off work today, and then set the alarm anyway so that Puritan guilt would make me come. I am so tricky sometimes....

Still no writerly guilt, but I am having all sorts of ideas, which meas that the brain is regenerating. I think the book's structure (it's a weird, sprawly book, covering about twelve years of time in bigger and smaller chunks... sort of like Edward II, come to think of it) is starting to click in a little, and I woke up this morning understanding a thematic progression. So that's good.

Meanwhile, it's Friday. Yay Friday! Go sleeping past five tomorrow, if the dogs will let me!
bear by san

Brain time. It's like hang time.

I'm still doing a lot of thinking about The Stratford Man. I figured out what justifies the title today: Sometimes the themes manifest themselves in my symbolic mind long before they emerge into consciousness. And I'm starting to think more clearly about the five or six major factions in the book, and how the politics have to work.

truepenny will be happy to know that while Spenser does not much figure in the story, Spenser's death seems to, at least. (**Considers briefly a digression into the entire subgenre of hardboiled detectives named after Elizabethan poets. Gives it up as a lost cause, or possibly a Ph.D. thesis.**) I realized today that there will be no riushing this book, and it will take as long as it takes.

Meanwhile, Act I, scene x awaits me. But first a nap and maybe a matinee of Charlie's Angels. It wouldn't do to take ourselves too seriously.

Malvolio: If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
cast thy humble slough and appear fresh.

--William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act II, scene v
  • Current Music
    John Hammond - Jockey Full of Bourbon
bear by san

(no subject)

Wordcount: ~100 words
Reason for stopping: Hey, at least i have a place to start tomorrow
  • Current Music
    Big Country - The Red Fox.wav