Now I shall worry about why the government hasn't withdrawn my property taxes from my account this month and whether they'll blame me for it.
Hey, this week I finished *two* books! Things are looking up!
Datlow and Windling, eds, The Coyote Road
Dinesen, The Angelic Avengers
Shaun Tan, Tales of Suburbia
- oddities, with his lovely illustrations
The Classic of Mountains and Seas
- which one should read as if it was Chinese: "...xx mountain ...xx minerals ...odd animal ...gods have (xx body) with (xx face) ...sacrifice skip skip". And then mark the paragraphs that actually talk about myth or that are intriguing: 'There is a plant here called the paper mulberry. It is effective for mental anguish. If you eat it, you won't get things in your eye.'
For the moment I've given up on improving reading (Women Wolves) and get-this-off-my-shelf reading (Pound Era) and am indulging in R.L. Stevenson's The Master of Ballantrae which I hope will indeed be an indulgence. At the moment the two forewords have me a little confused. Either RLS is pretending these are the papers of Wossname given to him by a friend, or he's thinking about writing a book that he hopes will not turn into Barry Lyndon, but he can't do both. No matter. I'm embarked on the narrative proper now.
Oh the temptations of the Hold list. 'Maybe this time I'll be lucky, maybe this time I'll be diverted or amused or taken away.' A Green and Ancient Light is on its way to me and I'm into single digits with Everfair. What I want is a nice mystery but nice mysteries serve only to while away the time and leave me feeling guilty about All Those Thumping Books Still On The Shelf.