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Things done, things undone

My Gut-B-Gone/Wolfram & Hart Marathon update: I spent last week with a pedometer strapped to my person, counting every step I took during my waking hours. No surprise, my average count was far below the average (which is supposed to be 10,000 steps per day). This is what working in an office does to you. You know, I used to work in factories. I worked in 100-degree sweatshops where I was beaten across the back if I raised my head above the sewing machine for a single second. I worked in bakeries, throwing 100 pound sacks of flour around like cotton balls, shoveling pan after pan of dough into the massive jaws of ovens at one o’clock in the morning. And I loved every fucking second of it. I was young and strong and fierce and beautiful, and no one ever knew, because where I was, it was only and always one o’clock in the morning. Now I’m an office slug, for all the world to see. But I am a determined slug! I shall someday become the fastest slug in Slugdom! I shall walk more and eat more veggies and become a god amongst my sluggy brethren!

Herbert is laughing at me right now. I can’t blame him. I have hair as white as the flour I used to throw. This is life, and it is what it is.

In non-slug related news, I have a few more sales, but I believe I can’t mention all the details. So, for now, all the half-details are on my bibliography page. And, I’m going to have a table at the MASS author signing at World Horror Con. Oh, yeah, I suppose I’ll have a few books for sale, but mainly I’ll just be handing out Lethe Press brochures and little chocolate bars. If I’m bored, I’ll throw things and make faces and filthy gestures at the other writers. It should be amusing. It’ll be just like another day at work…


Originally published at Livia Llewellyn.


Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.

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