Happy (belated) birthday


To my book: Niamh and the Hermit.

What precipitated such solipcism? In cleaning my room, I found the copy I'd claimed for myself (it was in a bag full of my other few publications which I'd taken in to this one creative writing class I'd guest taught at school) and read the inscription from my younger self to my older self and read the first chapter and a half and looked at the date of said inscription and squinted and said: "By golly!"

So, although in half an hour I'm going to work on tonight's blocking for KMK (nearly wrote BLOKING, which I suppose is when one becomes an Englishman in a pub...), I'm going to take the remainder of this hour to write more Brigglekin for the short novella (hopefully).

In other news, I ended up giving an impromptu class to Peter and Alex (who is visiting) on reality and truth, illogical solipcism (which is redundant in more than one way), the Trinity, the soul, free will, St. Thomas Acquinas, and what it means to be made in "the likeness and image of God," winding up with a quick look at Last Things. And, as Alex pointed out, we spoke for 45 minutes! Oy! :D

Mood: Pas mal
Music: The Visit by Loreena McKennit
Explanation: The name of this blog is after a phrase - or a paraphrase of a phrase - that genius Kristen once remarked in passing. It's a lament; not a command.