AAAAAARRR... The General is back on his graveyard shift... Aaaaaarrrr.. I didn't get ANYTHING done that week, anything! I am unusually sprite at the moment, considering we've been getting grapes in buckets for the past four days (done now, thank ye gods), but I am always sprite in the middle of the night right up until the point when he exits the house and I open the file and start typ..........

Yup. Nah. Blank. Will do it later. After a good sleep.

... Which also, obviously, shatters my tempo. Am 136 pages in. I did write down the short story version of introducing Qashkei, though, while catsitting Drej's paw paw. The previous version didn't sit well after the two big depression sequences already placed. (That's quite enough of existential crisis'.) When this story was original set, it was meant to show how Kay purposefully places herself into a nightmare to suffer there, but now it works better a funny, adventurous nightmare. I'm halfway through. I may try to write it tonight, after G leaves for work..

....Riiiiiigh :D Funny lady.

Ye Gods I'm tired :// Spent two days picking grapes, which are many, and need to be picked carefully. It got too hot and too many bees and hornets today towards the afternoon, but other than that, it's plantation labor. Nearly fell asleep later, when I went to check on Drej's cat, and started writing a short story about being chased through a large building. There was supposed to be a twist when the prey becomes the hunter, but no amount of coffee could convince me to get to it :)) The general is watching Prometheus while I'm dozing off on the bed above him. I've gotten The Martian on audiobook format and will listen to it tomorrow when we continue. Goodnight...

Thinking I am going to leave the second chapter of the three for last, as it is the most scattered and least purposeful at this stage - and also because it is easier to get the ending out of the way and then go wild with the fun middle part as opposed to the other way around. The middle is meant to show just how nuts and awesome the Pagans can be when they want to, but the end chapter sort of slows down again to gets to the philosophy and decision-making consequences. mental note to leave some closure and shoes dropping for last. My predicament of what to do with all those talks between Murphy and Kay is somewhat - not entirely yet - but somewhat settled and to a degree I've done their scene at the end of chapter one. My brain so so wired, I feel like I have so many juggling balls up in the air, that almost all the trivial thoughts I think during the day bounce off some ideas. 

Does this passage makes any sense? I don't know. I am so sleepy.

Cute :D Colbert takes on Neil deGrasse Tyson to fight for Pluto :D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6jXazEYi3P8

Reading The Martian by Andy Weir and Embers (Candles burn until the end) by Sandor Marai. Someone said I should probably also read some Faulkner, but I am making my way down my list of planetary writers and I've done American already.

Okay. I am about a day away from having to write the Kay-Murphy encounter ... It is the turning point in the book, as now we will learn what was it about the previous king everyone thought was worth fighting for. I have no idea how to do this and I am bending my brain in all directions as it is with Nuada Silverhand and Farbauti scenes ... I'm thinking that what I want to do is give the encounter a specific time frame ... Like, all about Silverhand takes place in one night, not over the course of a month as previously written. So do I compress the three different events that have Kay and Murphy sparring into one event and condense it further still in just one day?... Or what? Think, woman, think. 

I need more coffee. And to see more Bleach. For some reason.

Slowly but surely coming out from under a dark spell..

I saw the other day there's a lady who only takes photos of beautiful flowers ... That seemed like an incredible career to have - only ever photographing gardens in bloom and in the sun ... Not my cup of tea at all, I am more of a gloom kinda gal, but it still sounded awesome. But then again Kirsty Mitchell, doing a startup campaign for her book, said there have been A LOT of tears in her career, which makes me think perhaps it's not just me. I might have even had a whole lot more of a career if my tears weren't so important to me. We'll see. Anyhoo. Pickies of flowers in fruit. Tad gloomy edition. 

For the third night in a row - and never before all year - there has been mosquitos in the room. They start coming at me the minute General leaves for work and I stay up half the night, trying to kill them. If i kill one, there is bound to be another. If i don't kill it, it's just the one. This is mind-bending. The high-pitched buzz is driving me nuts. I dare not spray the room, because I don't want to harm the spiders, but what the fuck are all the spiders I am keeping doing, if they suddenly can no longer protect me from parasites? All I ask. Did I mention I have white walls? You know how disgusting that looks?

Still in PTSD and unable to take pickies with the proper camera (feeling like I filthied up the karma of Mark with all the shit it's been accused lately), but I took this with my phone this morning and I really love it. Reminds me of the collodions.