i poured my own nightcap
So here's the bullshit in my life at the moment:
I thought, after my guest appearance on the What The Book? Podcast earlier...
Hold that thought.
If you have not listened to this podcast yet and you are a writer, or love reading, or play either of the two on TV, it is a moral imperative that you go to Spotify and catch up now on this wonderful audio serial right now. Or when the other biological units in your purview properly allow.
Bookmark it. Highlight it. Write it on your hand with a ballpoint pen for all I care but check it out. You'll have fun. And not that "It'll be fun, they said" kind of fun, I mean an actually enjoyable experience that doesn't involve rolling into fire hydrants in broad daylight and then cussing that it didn't actually happen when the smoke started.
Oh. That was just my family members doing that? Okay. Anyway, here it is:
It's seriously a fun podcast, and I don't do a lot of them, but I do listen to this one.
back to regular programming...
I talked about the book that had just been released, Offerings for Arianrhod, and there was a little piece that stuck in my head while I was writing on Transgression Junction tonight. I thought, "Oh, I'll just check that out real quick."
That was at 3 AM.
It's 5:30 AM now. I just spent two hours standing in the bathroom re-reading the rest of the novel because I couldn't put it back down. No, seriously. Standing. I couldn't even stop long enough to park somewhere, I needed lighting that wouldn't disturb the natives. I would be amazed if I am the only author that does things like this.
One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong.
My reading habit. That's not belonging this early in the morning.
But I had to tell you about this because I felt like sharing. And night owls that feel like sharing are like that drunk neighbor that thinks you should be in on any event they detect could possibly interact with the meaning of life.
"Look at this!"
"This right here!"
"It's a napkin. Why did you wake me up to look at a napkin?"
"Ah, but you see, it's a white napkin."
"Do you want to lay in state, or am I cremating you? Pyres. They're useful at this time of night."
"I'm telling you, a white napkin means something. Big Brother is watching us, and I swear He's doing it with napkins. To the NSA, a white napkin means something."
"It will also mean something when I smother you with it. Go to sleep."
Poor bastards. I'm going to sleep too. But in the meantime, black ghost knife fish comes out on Halloween, and you can keep an eye on it at Amazon, or your other local retailers.