February 15th, 2006

bear by san

Being but heavy, I will bear the light

I love living in the future.

So far today, I have looked up directions to buymeaclue's house, spied on buymeaclue's house (I did not see the yellowdog, but I looked), set up my phone, cable, internet, and electricity at the new place (which I found on Craig's List, by the way), and realized that New Zealand is both smaller and farther south than I thought it was.

And never left the couch.

I will have a warm, well-lighted place to live when I get back from Boston, and a day or two after that, I will be able to watch tv and surf the internets. This is so much easier than the last time I did it.


The future is pretty cool all right. Soon as I get me one of them little vacuuming robot thingies and train it to mix drinks, I'm never going to get up out of my porch swing again.
bear by san

(no subject)

Progress notes for 15 February 2006:

"Gretchen and Tamara go Bowling"

New Words:  427
Total Words:  1778
Pages: 9

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
1,778 / 5,000

(I'm totally guessing about length)

Reason for stopping: end of scene; my head hurts
Mammalian Assistance: Clara being pushy
Stimulants: Constant Comment
Exercise: walked three miles
Mail: bookses!
Today's words Word don't know: n/a
Words I'm surprised Word do know: n/a
Tyop du jour: n/a
Darling du jour: n/a
Books in progress: Ken MacLeod, Newton's Wake; Charles Nicholl, National Portrait Gallery Insights: Shakespeare and His Contemporaries
Interesting tidbit of the day: Billiards rules; hemoglobin is not the only answer (via katallen)
Other writing-related work: wrote a bio

bear by san

O Rare Ben Jonson

I am reading Shakespeare and his Contemporaries, by Charles Nicholl. The end of his very brief biography of Ben does my little heart good, for pith, and vinegar.

Bedridden from a stroke, Jonson lived his last years at the Gate House at Westminster, with a drunken housekeeper and a pet fox.

Nicholl don't write half bad, do he? And as for Ben, you self-absorbed, mutton-faced, persnickety old bastard...

Well, I'd name a rose after you, man.