Gray this, gray that
Jan. 31st, 2003 09:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanThe weather is committing the pathetic fallacy; or maybe I am. I am not sure. Is it always the writer who commits the fallacy, even when writing the truth? I look at the news and I look at the weather, and they are congruent. Gah.
In any case, it was gray and warmish today. It is 30 F right now, with fog. The snow, such as it is, has all slumped. Everything looks, as it has looked since roughly late October, like March.
I went downtown and picked up my prescripton today, noticing in passing that in another week or so I shall have to beg the Multi-Speciality Clinic for more free drugs on the other prescription, if they have any left. I forgot to stop at the MTC office and get a new bus card. I did remember to use my "one free ride" card that I got in the mail; today was the last day that it was good. And I walked to and from the clinic from Nicollet, thus providing myself with a 16-block walk on ruthlessly cleared streets. A lot of people in my neighborhood have not shovelled because the snow insists on arriving in increments too small to bother with. Because Eric had shovelled the first of those, I have shovelled every time it snowed, and I did shovel again today.
Last night when I talked to Eric on the telephone he was urging me to add to the 710 words I had already written. I contemplated them, but I didn't add to them. Today after I came in from shovelling I was thinking about when, if he didn't call me first, I'd like to call him this evening, and I imagined his asking whether I'd written anything today, and my saying, well, no, because I was too upset by this knotty problem I am attacking with my teeth. I didn't like the sound of this, so I opened the file.
Two hundred words. Not too shabby. There might be more. I'm having to make up a floor plan as I go along and I am not too swift at those. Also I am distracted by the decorations.
Was consulted by David about various typestyles for the project he is working on. That was rather entertaining.
Raphael and I, being caught up on "Buffy," also caught up on "The West Wing" and then watched an episode of "Angel." It had a glorious opening and after that was fairly lame. My response to "Angel" is rather like my response to the first season of "Buffy." I don't know why all TV shows have to have a shakedown cruise even when the people working on them are experienced. Perhaps it's because they are collaborative and often done under time pressure. It's awfully annoying, though.
I have had enough of new books for the moment and am rereading Mary Renault's KIND ARE HER ANSWERS. If I did a third list of ten favorites, that would be on it. THE PRIZE IN THE GAME is starting to glare at me balefully, as if I were its ill-behaved manuscript. I sometimes fear that I am a neophobe.
The second of the three times I talked to Eric last night, he was in the middle of an essay in the sociology of knowledge that traced the evolution of the scientist's laboratory from the residence of a gentleman to a large and often public building specifically built for the purpose. The essay ended with a nice round phrase about people today in laboratories as "guests in a house where nobody lives." I am needing a lot of plausible-sounding taglines for people in my book to quote while testing the acoustics of theaters, and I stole that one at once. Hee.
My cat is once more racing madly about, pawing at windows and yelling. He probably knows it isn't very cold out. I don't think he'd care to go for a walk, however.
Pamela
In any case, it was gray and warmish today. It is 30 F right now, with fog. The snow, such as it is, has all slumped. Everything looks, as it has looked since roughly late October, like March.
I went downtown and picked up my prescripton today, noticing in passing that in another week or so I shall have to beg the Multi-Speciality Clinic for more free drugs on the other prescription, if they have any left. I forgot to stop at the MTC office and get a new bus card. I did remember to use my "one free ride" card that I got in the mail; today was the last day that it was good. And I walked to and from the clinic from Nicollet, thus providing myself with a 16-block walk on ruthlessly cleared streets. A lot of people in my neighborhood have not shovelled because the snow insists on arriving in increments too small to bother with. Because Eric had shovelled the first of those, I have shovelled every time it snowed, and I did shovel again today.
Last night when I talked to Eric on the telephone he was urging me to add to the 710 words I had already written. I contemplated them, but I didn't add to them. Today after I came in from shovelling I was thinking about when, if he didn't call me first, I'd like to call him this evening, and I imagined his asking whether I'd written anything today, and my saying, well, no, because I was too upset by this knotty problem I am attacking with my teeth. I didn't like the sound of this, so I opened the file.
Two hundred words. Not too shabby. There might be more. I'm having to make up a floor plan as I go along and I am not too swift at those. Also I am distracted by the decorations.
Was consulted by David about various typestyles for the project he is working on. That was rather entertaining.
Raphael and I, being caught up on "Buffy," also caught up on "The West Wing" and then watched an episode of "Angel." It had a glorious opening and after that was fairly lame. My response to "Angel" is rather like my response to the first season of "Buffy." I don't know why all TV shows have to have a shakedown cruise even when the people working on them are experienced. Perhaps it's because they are collaborative and often done under time pressure. It's awfully annoying, though.
I have had enough of new books for the moment and am rereading Mary Renault's KIND ARE HER ANSWERS. If I did a third list of ten favorites, that would be on it. THE PRIZE IN THE GAME is starting to glare at me balefully, as if I were its ill-behaved manuscript. I sometimes fear that I am a neophobe.
The second of the three times I talked to Eric last night, he was in the middle of an essay in the sociology of knowledge that traced the evolution of the scientist's laboratory from the residence of a gentleman to a large and often public building specifically built for the purpose. The essay ended with a nice round phrase about people today in laboratories as "guests in a house where nobody lives." I am needing a lot of plausible-sounding taglines for people in my book to quote while testing the acoustics of theaters, and I stole that one at once. Hee.
My cat is once more racing madly about, pawing at windows and yelling. He probably knows it isn't very cold out. I don't think he'd care to go for a walk, however.
Pamela
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Date: 2003-02-01 06:32 am (UTC)