My wife, my niece and my brother-in-law all have birthdays this week, and so does Tor.com. To celebrate, the latter has collected all of its original fiction into one great big free download of love. You can get it here by registering at the site. It includes three stories by me: “The Cage,” “Among the Silvering Herd,” and “Wild Things.”
Back in Sunnydale, meanwhile, it’s Halloween, and Dawn’s feeling all the way frisky, if you know what I mean.
It’s day fifty-nine of my residency here in Toronto, and the heat has come. Right this second the weather channel claims that it’s 31 degrees and feels like 38. If we had “feels like” in Vancouver, it’s news to me. I am too new at this to mind–I like heat, and since our house has AC I can get out of it whenever I like.
Today on my way home from the cafe I stopped to iPhotograph one of the neighbors, who appeared to be cooling off in a very whimsical garden pond on Tecumseth Street:
It was all very idyllic and summery, despite the slight risk of getting stench-bombed. But by the time I’d taken a few pictures, I’d realized Stinky was actually trapped down there, and trying to reach the rocks so he could get out.
And, you know. OMG. Skunk! I thought: am I really going to do anything about this?
Apparently I am that much of an idiot. I mooched a board from the construction site across the street and risked being made a toxic waste dump to lay it out for the little dude. It was too short. But the construction guys were so nice! They brought me an enormous two-by-four, and watched me set it up for him, and didn’t once put out a “We’re waiting for the physical comedy punchline where you get sprayed” vibe.
After we’d made the improvised bridge, we gave the little guy some privacy. He didn’t seem all that bright, but I figured that at least he had a chance, now, to get out of the water. I sure hope he does, because if I walk past there tomorrow and see his wee floating body, I’ll start pondering whether I need to carry elbow-length leather weasel-wrangling gloves in my writing kit. And probably also cry.
In the meantime, hurrah–I didn’t get sprayed.
On Tuesday ChiZine Publications had their fifth anniversary bash, which was paired with a launch for Imaginarium 2013: The Best Canadian Speculative Writing
I read the first scene of “The Sweet Spot,” one of the Imaginarium
I also got to hear and meet a number of the other contributors. Michael Kelly read part of “Blink,” and we got to hear part of “I was a Teenaged Minotaur” by A.G. Pasquella. David Clink read his Aurora-nominated poem, “A sea monster tells his story,” which made all the women at our table all edge-of-weepy.
And then Kari Maren sang her new song, “Fake Geek Guy.”
It was a boisterous, lively event and much fun was had.
We get our first good look at Andrew, Jonathan and Warren on “Life Serial” this week on the Buffy Rewatch. I call it “World’s Silliest Jobs, Slayer Edition.”
An excerpt: Even the Trio has noticed, by now, that our Slayer’s a bit unfocused.
That doesn’t stop Jonathan from taking up his magic bone and tossing Buffy into a service industry version of the film Groundhog Day. Warren and Andrew are delighted because this gives them a chance to talk about Star Trek: TNG and the X-Files episodes that also riffed on this idea of, as they call it, looping.
On a personal note, yesterday marked my 52nd day in the Toronto version of Chez Dua and the first day when Canada Post actually sent someone to our building with mail. That’s right, folks–I no longer have a two hour round trip to Leslieville each week just to see if RONA has sent me snail spam.
Irrelevant bonus question: can anyone think of a reason why I shouldn’t freeze ricotta for later use?
Saturday was our fiftieth day here in the big city, and I am definitely beginning to have a sense of things having settled. The apartment is squared away and I’m finding some satisfying routines. I’m starting to feel, for Downward Dog, the first wisps of the deep affection I felt for Open Door Yoga in Vancouver.
The landscapes are still incredibly new, of course. There is no place I can go where I’ve seen and noticed everything. By chance we spent both this past Saturday and the one before walking north up Bathhurst Street . . . and on the most recent jaunt, I saw this, which I’d totally missed the first time.
I’m building up my mental maps of the neighborhood, but there’s an enormous novelty factor. It’s exciting, because there’s always something new to see. Touristy, you know? But it also means there’s rarely a moment where I can lapse into walking on auto-pilot.
In other news, my latest session of Creating Universes, Building Worlds has opened up at the UCLA Writers’ Extension Program. (I didn’t announce registration this time simply because class filled so quickly.) I’m looking forward to meeting a new crop of writers and seeing what they write this summer.
Finally, and on a related topic, I’m not doing the Clarion West Write-a-Thon. I love this event, but the things I need to accomplish right now don’t lend themselves well to a Thon.
photo by Kristy Boyce
The Color of Paradox
The Cage