Current Mood: contemplative
Way back when on LiveJournal, when I started this column or journal or whatever it is, I called it my “Not A Blog,” because I could see that regular blogging was a lot of work, and I didn’t think I had the time to devote to it. I was late on a book even then, though I do not recall which one. I figured I would just make posts from time to time, when I had an important announcement, when the mood struck me, whatever.
Somehow, though, over the decades, the Not A Blog became a blog, and what I had intended as a occasional pleasure and a way to stay in touch with my readers has become a Blog (ironically, at the same time as everyone else was abandoning their blogs for Facebook and Twitter), complete with a sense of obligation. And when a lot of stuff happens very fast, I fall further and further behind.
I am hugely behind right now, and the prospect of trying to catch up is feeling increasingly oppressive.
My life has become one of extremes these past few months. Some days I do not know whether to laugh or cry, to shoot off fireworks and dance in the streets or crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head. The good stuff that has been happening to me has been very very very good, the kind of thing that will make a year, or a career. But the bad stuff that is happening has been very very very bad, and it is hard to cherish the good and feel the joy when the shadows are all around.
If any of you read the stories about me on the internet, you will know my good news. I have a new five-year deal with HBO, to create new GOT successor shows (and some non-related series, like ROADMARKS) for both HBO and HBO Max. It’s an incredible deal, an amazing deal, very exciting, and I want to tell you all about it… although it seems the press has already done it. There are stories in all the trades. You can read about it there. (These days I almost never get to break any news about myself, the Hollywood press is always ahead of me. Some of their stories are even accurate). I will blog about it, I expect, but not today.
On the other side of the coin… well, I am now fully vaccinated, hurrah hurray, that’s good. However, I have now lost six friends since November. (Only a couple to Covid. Alas, I am old, and so are many of my friends. Valar morghulis, I guess). And a seventh friend, a very old and dear friend who has been a huge part of my life for a long time, is in the hospital, very sick, recovering from surgery… at least we hope he is recovering.
Honestly, it is hard to dance in the streets even for the deal of a lifetime when another loved one dies every two/ three weeks, and that has been going on for me since November, when my longtime editor Kay McCauley passed away.
There’s lots more going on as well. Meow Wolf stuff. Railroad stuff. Beastly Books has reopened, but the JCC is still shuttered. The Jets traded Sam Darnold away. I am going to be leaving my cabin in a couple of months. I am close to delivering PAIRING UP, a brand new Wild Cards book.
I will tell you about some of this, I guess. But not today.
Current Mood: tired
New Mexico truly is the Land of Enchantment. And fall is my favorite time of year here.
(No, not because Winter Is Coming).
Our autumns are gloriously golden. We don’t get the reds and oranges they have up in New England, but the aspens and cottonwoods all turn gold. It does not last long, but then again, all beauty is fleeting. Seeing entire forests and mountainsides glowing in gold always lifts my heart.
(And these days, with the world the way it is, my heart is often in need of lifting).
Current Mood: contemplative
I had a pretty nice birthday. And thanks to all my fans and friends who sent me greetings by email, text, or (in one case) card.
Parris came up to the mountains to visit me in my fortress of solitude, the first time she has checked out the cabin, and I was thrilled and delighted to be able to spend some time with her. She brought me a wondrous present, a wolf from the same Santa Fe artist who made my ravens. I will need to take a picture and post it here. He’s marvelous. My thanks to Dahlia, her right hand and assistant, for helping her make the trip.
My assistant Sid, who is an incredible baker (she owned her own coffee and pastry shop when she was only eighteen, before coming to work for me) baked us a birthday cake from scratch, a gorgeous… and delicious… red velvet cake with cream cheese icing.
I got several other nice gifts as well, among them some amazing old vinyl albums, including old Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers radio dramas, and an album of JFK’s speeches. Which is uplifting and depressing at the same time, when one contemplates how far we have fallen. My thanks to my friend Ti Mikkel for the thoughtful present.
Come evening, we watched the Emmy Awards. A very strange Emmy night. Jimmy Kimmel did a nice job hosting, playing to an empty auditorium, and I got a hoot out of the big robo-boxes that John Oliver and a few others received, with a big hand that burst out clutching an Emmy when the winner was announced. Congratulations to all of this year’s winners…. and to the losers. I have lost quite a few myself, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the bridesmaids… whether Emmy losers or Hugo losers. It IS an honor just to be nominated.
In addition to the pandemic-inspired weirdness, it also felt odd for me personally. For ten of the past eleven years, I have attended the Emmy Awards in LA… including last year, when GAME OF THRONES won its fourth for Best Drama. But I have to say, it was much more relaxing to be watching from home. The big Hollywood awards ceremonies are exciting, beyond a doubt, but they are also very stressful… and exhausting, especially for an old codger like me.
And there is no doubt, I am an old codger. As of the 20th, I turned 72. Damn. When did THAT happen? The years have gone by so quickly, it seems. Inside I certainly do not feel 72. Hell, scratch me and that kid who wrote those letters to Stan & Jack and stories for dittoed comics fanzines is right below the surface. Truth be told, birthdays tend to depress me these days. And this year… ancient as I may be, there is no doubt that 2020 is the worst year I have ever lived through (I never thought any year could be as bad as 1968, till now)… I think the occasion might really have gotten to me, if not for that fact I was surrounded by friends and loved ones. Thanks to them, I did have a happy birthday.
Current Mood: happy
A friend sent me this cartoon, which I think is very cute.
Unfortunately, it isn’t true. For whatever reason, our neighborhood gets almost no trick or treaters. Damned if I know why. It’s a safe enough neighorhood, and Parris and my minions and I always stock lots of candy.
This year was the absolute nadir. We got no one at all, not even people we know with a kid in tow.
A pity. Halloween used to be my favorite holiday when I was a kid. I usually went as a monster of one sort or another, and I was fearless trick or treater, prowling late into the night and knocking on doors blocks and blocks from home, on streets I seldom visited during daylight hours. That brief glimpse into the homes of strangers when the door was opened was part of the thrill. In those days you got the usual candy, sure, but also cooler treats, cookies and home baked pies and brownies and little cakes, the caramel apple (no razor blades, that urban myth was years in the future). Nor would it ever have dawned on me to bring my mother along. I would have been mortified. All Hallows Eve was for ghoulies and ghosties and kids.
Halloween isn’t what it was, alas.
Current Mood: melancholy