But the future is another place

I slept slightly more than twelve hours last night. I had complex dreams involving a novella I had written three-quarters of and just needed to pull into shape. I was really bitter when I woke that it wasn't actually on my computer.

I am also bitter that I appear to be sick. Nothing dramatic, just wavery exhaustion and congestion and the feeling that I could crawl back into bed immediately, which I am not doing because I want my sleep schedule to stay more or less on track. With any luck it will blow over soon, because what I wanted to talk about with this post is the fact that I will be in New York City on Tuesday.

As previously mentioned, the New York Review of Science Fiction is hosting the launch party for Clockwork Phoenix 5 at the Brooklyn Commons Café on April 5th, starting 7 pm. I will be there, as will other splendid CP5 contributors including C. S. E. Cooney, Carlos Hernandez, and Shveta Thakrar. I will be reading from "The Trinitite Golem," a story for which I taught myself some nuclear physics. Local people, any chance of seeing you there?

With no money, it's like a resurrection

So between my being sick and rushthatspeaks not feeling so hot themselves, we were really not up for cooking tonight after gaudior left for their show; we got takeout from Tenoch Mexican (necessitating the removal of the cat from the dining room, since he took the presence of three different kinds of taco and a squash blossom quesadilla as an invitation to fix his claws in my thigh until I bought him off with a share; he was wrong) and collapsed on the couch afterward to watch another episode of The Great British Bake Off. Only after the fact did we realize that despite a mutual desperate need for some kind of cake or biscuit, neither of us still felt well enough to bake, especially since we would have had to complicate matters by using the toaster oven, the oven itself still being dead. I made us both goat's milk cocoa, which at least contained sugar and milk and qualified as a dessert, even if not the kind that involved, say, any form of flour. It was better than nothing. I make it with cinnamon and vanilla.

At which point schreibergasse and nineweaving unexpectedly dropped by with hot cross buns and half a ginger chocolate cake, so that worked out.