Kage Baker. Phantom noises of sleigh bells in the kitchen, phantom perfumes of nutmeg and semolina. Red Door, red doors, doors red with sunset – and the colder it gets the brighter the last red light of day: how does that happen?
Is it ice in the upper air that makes the sunset look like tinsel? Guy Fawkes, frost on the lawn this morning, rain going, rain coming, wind rising …
Out of this word salad, power lines vibrating and programs going on and off; either the household network (perhaps inauspiciously named Hal by the nephew …) is coming alive, or it’s developing epilepsy. You don’t have to be sentient to have epilepsy, of course – I knew a Labrador with it, and he was as dumb as a box of rocks.
I spent the day in my pajamas re-routing energy through limbs that have forgotten how neurons work. Net result – not much, but at least I am still here and will resume some higher level of functionality tomorrow.
I can’t get much less functional without mutating into a mushroom.
See you later, murels and chanterelles and you funny little blewitts. Gonna evolve me a central nervous system for tomorrow.