I am far less fretful today, thanks. I don't know what was wrong with me, but a few hours in the hammock on Sunday, along with a few beers, seem to have cured me.

I did some good work on short fiction this weekend. In addition to revising "Life in Stone" on Saturday, on Sunday I revised "Komodo," and I put it in the mail today. This evening I finished up various elements of Flytrap layout (putting in marginalia, putting in some filler pieces, Excerpts from the Book of Dead Beginnings, etc.). The plan now is to take the 'zine to the printer on Wednesday, my once-fortnightly day off. I'm investigating some possibilities for future Flytrap printing, but it's doubtful that those will crystallize in time for this issue. So it goes. We'll just take the 'zine to a copy shop we've used before to do chapbooks. The extremely high density of copy shops in downtown Berkeley makes their prices competitive, at least.

I'm reading The Light Ages by Ian MacLeod. It's good, gritty, and beautifully written. I expect to soon have my hands on The Jane Austen Book Club (which might be Karen Fowler's breakout crossover success; there are indications in that direction, and it's well-deserved, so I hope she makes pots of money and gets loads of acclaim). I'm also expecting a galley of Miéville's Iron Council soon, and needless to say, I'll drop everything to read that when it arrives.

I'm getting my hair cut Wednesday, too, probably. It's getting too hot to wear it this long. I won't cut it terribly short -- my hair gets frizzy and puffy and fro-like when it's short -- but I'll get it cut to chin length, probably.

Not much else going on. Keeping busy. Heather's cooking more lately, and she made a great meal on Sunday, a basmati-chutney-chicken dish that was sweet and peppery and altogether wonderful. Life is pleasant.