The Russian Princess, Charles Robinson
Came out of the dreamweb this morning uncertain about whether it was Sunday or Monday. A worm of a thought suggested Sunday, but that felt wrong. Monday bloomed up, but I’d been there already. That left Tuesday–just met. My befuddlement might have been the result of all that zombie slaying in my dream. There were lots of zombies; I had a long, l-o-n-g sharp sword, and I wielded it with deadly accuracy. I won.
Sunday my friend Patricia, a mystery writer, and I visited “Mummies: Death and the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt” at the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana and took in the Shanghai exhibit too–5000 years of Chinese art and culture. Before going to the Bowers we stopped to eat at the Green Parrot, right across the street from the museum, tucked amid banana trees. We sat on the patio, me in the sunshine, red-haired, fair-skinned Patricia in the shade of an umbrella, and enjoyed champagne brunch. It was lovely, peaceful with only a few people at the place.
The mummies and all the thanatosian accoutrements were fascinating. By the time we reached the Shanghai exhibit we were giddy. The Chinese objects were exquisite–sculptures, household wares including a blue and white Ming vase, and finely detailed brush paintings–one of Chinese court ladies playing stickball. Photographs were not allowed–too bad. There was a sculpture of a happy dog–floppy ears, wide grin. He was positioned toward a clay camel, laden with an ornate saddle, who appeared to be laughing. We figured they were trading jokes. What else to do in the solemn serenity of a museum display room?
Home again in the late afternoon and brooding a bit about Silk River. It has iced over, as if 3000 more words were all I had in me. Hoping for a crack in the ice. Meanwhile I’m working on The Key to Chaos, trying to get into Marius Catalin. And there’s the short fiction.
Saturday’s meeting with Michelle was our six-month assessment. She’s doing well with her short fictions–writing and submitting. I was thinking I might finish two novel manuscripts by year end, but with Silk River frozen, I guess I’d better curb my ambition, and look to The Key to Chaos.
I fell off the wagon last week and purchased Laurell K. Hamilton’s latest Anita Blake novel, The Harlequin. Disappointed by the book before this one, I swore not to buy another one. But I missed the guys! Jean-Claude, Asher, Nathaniel, Edward, Micah–really I did! (Except Richard. Way back when, I liked him; but he’s become a right pain in the ass and I’ve got a silver bullet with his name on it.) Finished it last night. Seeing as the wagon has trundled on without me, guess I’ll be buying the next one. Must have my vampires, were-leopards, and assassins fix. Started reading Mary Gentle’s Rats and Gargoyles today. One of these days I’m going to get back to the Napoleon bio.