AETW: 243

The hotel has a kiosk at which you can check e-mail, so I did. Got 118 messages down to 41. Not all spam; a fair number were list messages I didn’t need to read/keep. Got one rejection, but one “yes we’ll look at reprints” in answer to my query, so that’s nice.

So far, all we’ve accomplished today is eating breakfast (three of us together). It’s already early afternoon, and Cat has napped, and now she’s checking e-mail, and Ken is crashed on our bed (he’s also checked e-mail). We can hear the band from here, so it’s not like we’re not doing what we came here for. But still. I’ve been immersed in the Kay book, of course, but I’ve also done a little writing on AETW already.

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Ken and I sat outside on lounge chairs by the pool, reading, while we listened to this afternoon’s second band (he and Cat mostly slept through the first one). I thought they were fantastic—very melodic, with lots of keyboards. Reminded me of modern Rachmaninov.

I’m reading the Kay book almost faster than I want to… His prose style is so elegant, so perfect, that I have to stop myself from reading quickly to find out what happens next; I end up reading passages two and three times, reveling in the exquisite wordplay. Plus it takes him several years to write each book, so I don’t want this one to be over too quickly. Although I’ve unpacked all of his stuff, and may just start from his first book and work my way through them again.

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We went out for Italian tonight and the food was awesome! Mine was, at least, and I didn’t hear anyone else complaining. I had carpaccio, because I loooooove carpaccio, and it isn’t easy to find. I startled everyone—including myself, because this wasn’t planned—by growling “raw meat!” in a cavewoman sort of way. I also had ravioli stuffed with ricotta, crab, and lobster, in a lemon cream sauce. Oh my my my. Ken and I shared a bottle of Mexican white zinfandel, which was okay, but a little over on the sweet side for me.

Alas, I don’t think I’m going to go to tomorrow night’s concert. I’m spoiled by California, and didn’t expect how much people smoke here. The theatre and the lobby were hazy before the first band was through. The first band, from Japan, was quite good, but the second band, from Italy, was not my style. They seemed technically proficient, and the lead singer had an amazing voice, but it was one of those über-progressive bands in which everyone seems to be playing an entirely different song. Plus they were really loud. We didn’t stay for the third band, primarily because of the smoke. My lungs hurt, and I started to get a headache. Yuck.

After we got back to the hotel, I went outside and stood under the full moon, almost directly above, and tilted my head back, letting the moonlight wash over me like a soft shower. Beautiful.

Then I discovered that it’s hard to be a serious pagan when you hear the Sponge Monkeys bellowing about the moon being way up high. Sigh.

Well, Ken and Cat are sacked out, and I’m pretty tired (the smoke bothered my eyes, too), so I’m going to read for a little bit and crash as well. I’ll get more writing done tomorrow. So I’ll sign off now, under a Mexican moon.