Dear Diary . . . day by day

Tuesday, August 14th, 2001 - Oasis
A guest entry by Tim Pratt

Hello. This is not your regularly scheduled Heather.
I'm Tim. I'm Heather's live-in love. I'm writing the entry tonight, because my infiltration is just that total.
Today at work I shelved books, and then drank a cream soda, and then shelved more books. I played with images in Photoshop all afternoon, and then I came home. I drive past the Rockridge BART station on my way home every day, and it trips me out-- it's just this platform in the middle of a divided highway, this strange little oasis of motion disconnected from everything... I find it very surreal, for some reason.
Today I also saw a dirigible on the ride home, which was even more surreal. It was just the Goodyear blimp, though, not some sort of marauding zepellin. More's the pity. A balloon invasion would have made for an exciting entry, hmm?
I arrived home to my beautiful, wonderful, happy-making Heather. She was on the couch with her laptop on her tummy, reading chapters of my book-- which she really likes. Apparently she finds it compulsively readable! Heather is one of my toughest and most astute critics, so it means a lot to me when she truly deeply enjoys something I've written.
We had a lovely shag, and then went walking over the hill to Piedmont Avenue. The plan was for me to purchase The League of Extraordinary Gentleman by Alan Moore-- the Victorian superhero novel! Of sorts. Less superheroes and more literary larger-than-life figures brought together... anyway, there's a review of the comic at Strange Horizons, if you're really interested. It's very much my sort of thing (remember my love for Kim Newman's Anno Dracula series), and I was excited about buying it.
Alas, the store closed about twenty minutes before we arrived. Grr. They're open later tomorrow. But all I could do today was beat mutely at the grille over the door and moan in a forlorn fashion. In addition to buying The League, I'd planned on looking over some of the independent, underground comix-- that'd be for the purpose of research, as my protagonist in the current novel is an independent comic artist.
Instead, fair Heather and I went to the bookstore and nosed around their mythology section... I got an encyclopedia of British and Irish folklore (I have this idea for a story that's a Southern-style-twist on the old salmon-of-wisdom tale), and also Forsake the Sky by Powers, because I haven't read it yet. Then we went for dinner-- yummy burger, better fries. Heather was not overly pleased with her gardenburger, but she had good curly fries, so it's okay.
Then home, for lounging and cuddling and watching Bring it On, which was (as we'd heard) surprisingly good. Then we romped and tickled and laughed and sputtered and rassled and then I sat down to write this entry. And there we are.
Heather's been writing here about her difficulties adjusting to our new living situation... I'd like to say that I'm in nearabout total bliss living with her. We have our moments, sure, and we're still trying to figure out personal space issues and I'm still learning where the recycling goes and such, but that's all just settling-in, you know? I don't think there's anything particularly bad going on. Living entwined with someone... it's new for both of us. And, occasional chafings aside, it's a wonderful experience. I'm happy to be here. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Exercise log:
Shelving heavy books. Carrying heavy books. Sex. Walking over the hill and back again.
Writing log:
Nothing, really, today. Did other sorts of things
I'm currently reading:
Buddy Holly is Alive and Well on Ganymede by Brad Denton
An Encyclopedia of British and Irish Folklore
Forsake the Sky by Tim Powers
Crown of Stars by James Tiptree, Jr.
The Mammoth Book of the West
Not The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, dammit
My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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