Today's a work day. Clean Sheets stuff in the morning; a web page for Sarah in the afternoon (and possibly evening). I'm actually looking forward to doing a day of solid work, but I'm a little worried too -- my arms have started hurting. It started about a week ago. I've been retyping a Ginu Kamani story for Clean Sheets, one I'm very excited to have in the magazine, but it's long. I've found that I can only type for about a page or so before the outside edge (the tendons?) of my forearms start to hurt. So I've been doing a page and then breaking to wash dishes or sweep my room or some such, but I'm wondering if that's sufficient precautions. I *can't* stop typing, y'know. I'm almost done with the Kamani story -- just two more pages. But this afternoon I need to transcribe about forty-five minutes of interview for the web page project. Guess I take lots of breaks. It actually doesn't hurt that much -- I could easily keep typing through it, and do, if I don't remember to stop. But I'm worried about aggravating the condition.
Guess I should have seen this one coming, eh?
Listening to The Nylons today. I'd guess most of you aren't familiar with them -- they're an all-male a capella (voices only) singing group. They did a couple songs that got pretty popular: "Up the Ladder to the Roof" and "Bop 'til you Drop", but my favorite is one called "Please". It's one of the most sweet and pathetic break-up songs I've ever heard. When I broke up with Kevin (the 2nd time, I think?), I put this song on infinite repeat on the CD-player, until my roommates were ready to strangle me. Small apartment. It's a great wallowing song.
Oh, please, don't leave me this way,
There's still so much to say, and we could always talk together;
Please, won't you try and sit down, smooth away that frown,
If we must part, let's leave as friends... I know, I know -- it's not the same without the music. Well, I recommend this group, if you're looking to buy some music. The album's One Size Fits All.
I was pretty mopey for a while last night, for no good reason. Luckily, Todd was logged on, and I ended up meeting him on a muck (I'm sorry, I'm too sleepy to go into a long explanation of what mucks are right now) to chat, and he succeeded in making me laugh. Thanks, Todd. Then I went out to the living room where Ian was watching Star Trek: First Contact (which, oddly enough, he and I both bought last week, in different states -- mine's in Utah). Since I'd just seen it, it was perfect for falling asleep to, and Ian makes a good pillow. I woke up somewhere around where Picard was going on his Ahab rant and decided it was time to sleep in my own bed (where I slept like a log the rest of the night. The nights are getting cold. I sleep better.)
It's funny talking on a muck. There's an odd time-lag, that's really kind of hard to explain, but your conversation ends up really tangled -- lines of thought and dialogue crossing each other constantly. You respond to what someone said a moment ago -- by which point they've already said something else. You could, of course, both wait, and slowly have a normal converation, but that would be awfully tedious. It's more interesting trying to track this rather loopy version. Imagine living in the world with a fifteen-second delay. There must be a sf story about that somewhere...
Okay, my darlings. Muscle break, and then back to work. (May sneak out a bit of time to record some poetry and songs for y'all -- Ian has some new equipment downstairs that he's very excited about. I'd want to test it for Clean Sheets in any case...).