Celebrating International Beer Day with Aooni India Pale Ale. Bready nose, tropical citrus notes. Grassy and malty. Bitter cereal.
Like you, I’ve been watching the media circus surrounding Patrick Wensink’s Broken Piano for President and the world’s friendliest cease-and-desist letter. It’s been amazing watching a Bizarro title climb to the top of Amazon.com’s rankings, peaking just below the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy (Note to Patrick: Next time, don’t forget to include ben wa balls in the book), not to mention the positive coverage in places like Boing Boing, The Atlantic, The New York Times, and Time Magazine.
It takes about an hour, sometimes more, to drive from Petaluma, where I live, to the Dogpatch district of San Francisco, where the massive warehouse warehousing the Night Shade Books office is located. Depending on traffic, and other motorists’ habits of driving like idiots, this can be a monster of a commute. So I fill my time as best I can, listening to music, catching up on short fiction, or checking out new and engaging podcasts.
There is grief, and there is sorrow, but there is also recovery. As the old adage says, time heals all wounds. And the conspicuous absence of dog was becoming deafening. So, coming up on three weeks ago, we adopted a dog. At the time, we didn’t completely realize we were adopting a dog.
I’ve been traveling lately, so it’s good to get back home. But it’s hot at home. Summer is in full swing, the solstice is here, and so the last few days have been spent hiding from the sun with the fans on and the lights off, in a semi-successful attempt to keep cool.
I’m on the road this week, driving to Seattle for the 2012 Locus Awards. I’m also taking my niece and nephew to a Giants/Mariners game while I’m in town. Should be a whole lot of fun. Night Shade have a couple of horses in the Locus Awards race, notably first novels God’s War from Kameron Hurley and Soft Apocalypse from Will McIntosh, and the outstanding (if I do say so myself) anthology, Eclipse Four, edited by Jonathan Strahan.
Black. The most achromatic of colors. Black is the color of objects that refuse to reflect light in the visual spectrum (or, if you’re a Nina Simone fan, “the color of my true Love’s hair”). The word black comes from the Old English “blæc” (meaning “black, dark”, or “ink”).