September 19th, 2008

wicked fairy bowie

they keep building all these big buildings and they build them all in one-- --spot.

Memo to me: sleeping in until 7 or 7:30 is counterproductive. Get up at 6. If I get up at 6, I can run at sunrise, and when it's 42 degrees, my body is incredibly more effective than it is two hours later, when it's 60 degrees.

There's just no way around it: I am a cold-adapted life form. This morning, I did three miles on cruise control (around a fifteen-sixteen minute mile) without even pausing, and felt like I was good for another three (I walked in the door eight minutes ago and my pulse is already back under 90), but I decided to quit while I was ahead--because three miles was my goal, and it seems like I should celebrate that with some sort of reward--and because I am climbing tonight, and it seemed silly to kick my ass that totally beforehand.

Instead, I feel good. Really good. Thank you, approaching autumnal equinox. Thank you, cooler weather. Thank you, thank you, thank you, angle of insolation.

God, I hate summer. But this--this is perfect. It could be like this always.

Tomorrow morning, I guess we try for those four miles. Which means levering ourselves out of bed at 6 am again, but hey. That's what the detonator is for... (Also: must keep running at VP. No matter how hungover I am when pnh, tnh, and Jim Macdonald are done with me.... also. Bear. No sunburn this year, you silly twit.)

In other news, Bette Midler? Still awesome. (via oursin)

And John Scalzi, also awesome from the archives. (And I'm not just saying that because I'm sleeping with him next week. Okay, okay, in the non-euphemistic sense: we're roomies at Viable Paradise. And now I get to say I slept with Cory Doctorow and John Scalzi. Now if we can just get China Mieville to teach at VP, I could have the shaven-headed SFF writer roomie hat-trick....)

376 miles to Rauros, and the Breaking of the Fellowship. I am taking my last sight of the light of Lórien.
writing one-eyed jack


In celebration of international Talk Like a Pirate Day, I bring you Booty! Gold, and great store!

Or stories. As the case may be.

So as some of you already know, truepenny and I have a story in the forthcoming VanderMeerian anthology Fast Ships, Black Sails. That anthology is devoted to piracy on the high seas. It's not yet published. However, Jeff and Ann have made Sarah and my story "Boojum" available as a PDF for pre-reading. The link (and a plug for the anthology) is here at GeekDad's Wired blog.

(no subject)

So tonight we climbed, despite being collectively at the mercy of a series of brutal allergies. I dunno what is reproducing in Connecticut this week, but everybody I know is begging for death. It's awful.

Anyway, climbed a bunch of stuff I already knew how to climb, for exercise. Also a new route--pretty easy, but requiring some thought and meticulousness and so fun--and then another twenty minutes throwing myself fruitlessly at that move I'm stuck on on the unrated red wall. The good news is my stamina has improved to the point where I can actually throw myself fruitlessly at the same move for that long. The bad news is, wall 1, girl 0. For the third or fourth time running.

Eventually I will get it, though. If the toehold were just a smidge bigger or there were one decent freaking handhold on the entire expanse of wall, I think maybe I could get it. But as it is, it's kicking my ass. I want to see next time if I can get a different, more direct angle on the toehold.

Anyway, acraped my hands raw on those two terrible handholds, but that's how the game is played, right? You just have to find a toehold somewhere, and then you have to stand up on it.