Posthuman Blues

Today I walked to the hospital for X-rays. The doctor, who was gracious enough to fill out my medical background instead of insisting I use the digits protruding from the Fiberglas mesh encasing my right arm, actually advised taking the damned thing off a couple of times a day in order to practice "gentle movements," so I suppose I can consider blogging physical therapy.

I got lost on the way home and ended up strolling through Westport, enjoying the bright blue sky despite the cold wind. I made for the library -- now featuring a coffee shop -- and began reading Rucker's "Lifebox" book, which promises quite a few intellectual rewards. The only other non-fiction book by Rucker I've read is "The Fourth Dimension," way back in high-school.





On a whim, I also checked out a trite-looking New Age book called "Calling on Extraterrestrials." The author claims she knows how to summon and communicate with kindly Grays. I think she's full of shit, but what the hell; maybe she's right. If I have any conversations with ETs in coming weeks I'll be sure to let you know.

I've begun slowly moving my "stuff" -- largely books, knick-knacks and electronic ephemera -- to my new apartment down the street. (Although we were approved for the apartment we'd originally had our eyes on, we decided against it after enduring a week of bureaucratic incompetence.) Luckily "Elizabeth's" current landlord has a nice first-floor pad with a sun-room and recessed, gallery-style lighting, so we have the rest of the month to relocate at our convenience. I'll be literally only a few paces away from my favorite coffeeshop and free to pursue my writing while I await graduate school, where I'm applying for a teaching assistant position.





My nonfiction book-in-progress, "The Postbiological Cosmos," has been temporarily set aside in favor of a slightly different, less technology-dependent book (as yet untitled). And I've almost decided to write my alien invasion/eco-disaster novel in the form of interlinked short-stories; I know the medium better, and it's likely that the finished product will be indistinguishable from a "real" novel.

It occurred to me this afternoon that I should write at least some of the novel online, thus getting some extra mileage from my blogging fixation. But I'm not terribly certain of the potential copyright issues. Maybe I should ask Cory Doctorow . . .

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