September 3rd, 2007

criminal minds hotch save your life

the girls tease her mercilessly until she moves away

And two more very interesting, thoughtful reviews, both from Green Man Review--

One for New Amsterdam (by Richard Dansky) and one forA Companion to Wolves (by Robert M. Tilendis).

Fair warning!!! The A Companion to Wolves review is spoilery, verging on giving the entire game away, much more so than New Amsterdam one.

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Ah well, better luck next time, I guess. The book you write is never the book the other guy reads, nor is it ever the book you intended to write. It pays to make your peace with it early!
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twain & tesla

start turning the girl into the ground

So today, I walked up to Elizabeth Park, where the roses are in their autumn bloom, and took some pictures.

Anybody want to try to identify these cultivars?

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Anybody got any theories?


I dropped a flashlight on my bare foot, and it hurts. It hurts in that sort of way where you drop the flashlight, feel it hit, look rueful and thoughtful for a moment, and say, very calmly, "Ow. That hurt."

Because ow. That hurt. And now it's turning into a big blue bruise.


Also, I found a black walnut and a shag bark hickory, and stained the everloving bejesus out of my hands picking the husks of the nuts apart to see if it really was a black walnut tree. *g*
sf doctor who meant to be?

Book Report # 75: Kazuo Ishiguro, THE REMAINS OF THE DAY

This is quite good, in a leisurely, contemplative, elegaic sort of way. It reveals itself quite subtly, through the mechanism of a self-justifying, self-deluding first-person narrator who nevertheless remains sympathetic and quite pitiable. The Remains of the Day concerns the cross-country motor trip of a butler in a great English house in the aftermath of the second World War. The narrator, Mr. Stevens, had led a trapped and constrained life, and through the metaphor of that life Ishiguro examines facets of service, of politics, of blind loyalty, of self-sacrifice... and also the question of change, and living through it. It's a story about suspension and failure, wuite complex, elegantly written, and depressing as a held breath.

If Stevens has a card, it's The Hanged Man.

Good book. Makes me crave scones with cream like anything, though, let me tell you.

Man, my head still hurts from yesterday.
criminal minds prentiss facepalm

and the night comes again to the circle-studded sky....

Well, I suspect I can stop feeling like I haven't accomplished anything in the past week, because I just actually pasted together the outline and all the bits we've written for Part 8 of the Secrit Projekt (please now, parts 1-7 still need to be written, but part 8 is important, and collaborative, and therefor requires Much Discussion) and it stands at...

40 pages, single-spaced. Or about 14,000 words.

Okay, MOST of that is outline.

But I'm still claiming 7,000 words for the week, dammit.

You know, I think this is going to be really good.

It's always interesting working with other people, because the synergy means that things get pushed in weirder and wilder directions, as everybody brings their strengths to bear, gets excited, and so on.  Brainstorming? Still more fun than putting words on paper.

At least I know my head isn't broken, though, even though it feels like it when I turn around and stare at Bone & Jewel Creatures or any of the other things I owe....

In other news, Iron & Wine? Still creepy.
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