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February 8, 2010 Progress Notes:
"Stay"
Words today: 500.
Words total: 3300.
Reason for stopping: Tea's gone, and it's late.
Darling du Jour: Georgie looked up at her, at Jane, and his brow creased into three fine canyons over his thick, graying eyebrows. "He was clear across the cab," he replied, slow. One thought, two, stumbled through those canyons like lost horses.
Mean Things: Possession. Bad nutrition. Seeing what you did there. Wendigoes!
Research Roundup: Hades the deity, not the place; etymology of Aidan; medicine, as it's meant in the First Nations parlance. Googling this was sort of an exercise in despair, because so much of what it spit up was either...con artists or outdated and shitty anthropology. Beh. This proves the Internet, like all compilations of knowledge, is only ever going to be as useful as the biases of its society allow it to be.
Books in progress: Junot Diaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.
The glamour: Groceries. Making that mushroom risotto for the Dayjob potluck tomorrow. Replying to various e-mails, both business and pleasure.
This is starting to get long. It had better not get Ideas, because it is for something, and that something has a word limit and an early March deadline. And I am not enamoured of the thought of going through it with an axe on short notice.
All right. Have been staring at this line for too long thinking of what else I'd like to say. That means nothing, and that I should go to bed.
"Stay"
Words today: 500.
Words total: 3300.
Reason for stopping: Tea's gone, and it's late.
Darling du Jour: Georgie looked up at her, at Jane, and his brow creased into three fine canyons over his thick, graying eyebrows. "He was clear across the cab," he replied, slow. One thought, two, stumbled through those canyons like lost horses.
Mean Things: Possession. Bad nutrition. Seeing what you did there. Wendigoes!
Research Roundup: Hades the deity, not the place; etymology of Aidan; medicine, as it's meant in the First Nations parlance. Googling this was sort of an exercise in despair, because so much of what it spit up was either...con artists or outdated and shitty anthropology. Beh. This proves the Internet, like all compilations of knowledge, is only ever going to be as useful as the biases of its society allow it to be.
Books in progress: Junot Diaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.
The glamour: Groceries. Making that mushroom risotto for the Dayjob potluck tomorrow. Replying to various e-mails, both business and pleasure.
This is starting to get long. It had better not get Ideas, because it is for something, and that something has a word limit and an early March deadline. And I am not enamoured of the thought of going through it with an axe on short notice.
All right. Have been staring at this line for too long thinking of what else I'd like to say. That means nothing, and that I should go to bed.
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