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In line for a number but you don't understand (like a modern man) [Apr. 14th, 2011|09:50 pm]
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Guys, SAM AND HANSEN ARE SO CUTE THEY DESERVE CAPSLOCK.

That is all.




Well, on that subject. Another day spent in the Library of Congress, and this time I got to an abolitionist newspaper. As expected, it was extremely self-righteous and irritating, in the exact same measure that the Southern Dem paper was batshit insane.

And I'm pretty sure the Know Nothing Party were the Tea Party of their day. Xenophobic, Anti-immigration, Catholic hating, slavery endorsing idiots. So... yep. That's about right.

We're not on the verge of Civil War, though. So I guess we're still doing better than they were back then--which, to be frank, I did not expect.




I still might go to the historical society next Tuesday. Just because it'd be awesome, and maybe I'd find a few neat little turns of phrase. But for the most part, my work for this week is done apart from printing the covers. This is partly because I hemmed and hawed about it. If I print them myself, I can't print them to the edge--there will be a bleed. And so, I thought I'd just do the images smaller and not even try to take up the whole page--what's the point? And then I thought, what if that looks even worse?

But fuck it, I like empty space. I'm making these fucking things one at a time, here. People won't mind. Anyhow, I think I'll go pick out some card stock and do a test print tomorrow. Wondering if it's smarter to print one and do color copies on it or print them all... thinking the former. Wondering if it'll look decent.

The cover is fucking stunning, though. Even more stunning than Hansen and Sam are adorable. Which is SAYING A LOT.
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took a look at myself and it wasn't quite right [Feb. 26th, 2011|02:45 pm]
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I am getting fucking audacious!

So I had this idea a while back that Scripped should have its own domain name, but I didn't want to do something stupid like "scrippednovel.com" or something. Okay, that's not STUPID, but it's not exactly what I'm looking for, if you know what I mean. So I've decided that the tagline for the novel is "You can never go home", because, uh, that's what it's about. He tries and tries to get home, he gets there, and then he tries and tries to get back. Welcome to Faerie, my friend--once you're here, YOU CAN NEVER GO HOME.

Anyhow, that should be the .com, right*? Right!

...only I went to do it last night and someone had already bought it. Bugger.

To make a long story short, I realized sometime shortly after that there were domains that ended in .me. Now, normally, I don't like weird ass domain extensions... uh, except, in this case:

youcannevergoho.me

Yep. Try it.

Ta-da!! See, that's awesome.

So anyhow, I have plans for that page. Once we get about 3 months out from release I'm going to rework it so it's not recognizable as a kvtaylor page. You know, upload my own html thingie and all that. It'll just have quotations and fucked up shit about faerie and Appalachia for a while, creepy shit like that. (I even had the audacity to ask Terri Windling if I could use some of her quotes from this article just like I used the wiki quote. She'll very likely say no, but man, she says it so well. What harm is there in asking?) And then about a month out, I'll add in the artwork and some other shit. Etc etc until the release.

Yay.

Well, for now it's staying as it is and I'm not making a big deal about the domain--it's there and masked and that'll do for now. But it'll be awesome to print up my little bookmarks (I have art!! And dude, it's the back of Jonah and Sela, and every time I look at it I get shivery because SELA IS SO CREEPY EVEN FROM BEHIND OMG) and just put http://youcannevergoho.me on them. Posters and shit, too. I will flood the coffee shops and indie book stores, dammit!

Okay, it's goofy. But I like it, goddammit.

*Yes, I do realize it should say "Scripped" in the address somewhere. Look, I'll work with the SEO optimization, it'll come out in the wash, really!
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[Feb. 6th, 2011|10:30 pm]
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My lack of real disappointment over the Super Bowl is just proof that my heart wasn't in it this year. I hate you for that, Ben Roethlisberger. Among other things.

Plus, I always liked the Packers.

Nice game, though! Well, not on the Steelers' part, but nice in general, in that it was actually a GAME.
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And I think the winter will be wonderful [Feb. 5th, 2011|10:34 am]
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ENTRY FROM GERMANY:

Okay, that first flight was annoying, but mostly because of the usual 12 screaming babies. I slept. Some.

I just keep telling myself that after we get off the next flight, we'll be home. Dc! Yay!

Yes, after leaving the Chennai airport, I was mostly over my sadness about leaving and more thinking of my own bed and my cat and writing stuff. Balaji is already fantasizing about Phil Simms. Er, i mean watching inside the NFL. AND Phil Simms.

Long ass layover in Frankfurt this time, a lost 5 hours, and they threw out our duty free scotch from India because apparently you can only carry it on if it comes through another eu country. Which makes sense, admittedly, but I do wish theyd thought to tell us that in India.

Ah well, talk to y'all again soon. Mmmmm home. I have to admit that I do love the USA... Especially when I'm out of it. It's not so bad, sometimes! :D

Right, my €8 is about up. Later!

ENTRY FROM NOW:

Aaaand I'm home-as it turned out, my €8 was up just before I went to press send. That's what I get for admitting to liking the US, I guess. The world disagrees!

Last night I slept for about 12 hours and have a fucking headache, but the lag won't really catch up to me until tonight. Balaji's already watching nonstop Super Bowl coverage (thank god we were gone these two weeks...). Phil Simms, last night. Yeah. He went there.

Today, I'm going to sub the full of Equilibrium, send out acknowledgments for RPP, and send out no thank yous/short list notices for the first week of stories. Because yes, I read them in India. The pile is thick this time, I didn't want to get buried alive. Also, write Mark and let him know about the sub I read in flight.

But I gotta do all this before the lag hits me, so I'm off!

[ETA: Success! Now, to do nothing!]

Also, I stole this from Sarah:

Your result for The RPG Class Test...

Spellsword

59% Combativeness, 40% Sneakiness, 71% Intellect, 25% Spirituality

Aggressive, but with the brains to back it up: You are a Spellsword!


Score! You have a prestige class. A prestige class can only be taken after you've fulfilled certain requirements. This may mean that you're an exceptionally talented person, but it probably doesn't.


Spellswords combine arcane might with combat know-how. They're much tougher than mages, like to wear armor, and can cast spells through their weapons. They're very, very, good at doing lots of damage to a single target very quickly, and while not quite as tough as most fighters, are still pretty hard to kill.


You're both smart and aggressive, which means that you're probably pretty dangerous when pissed off. You also tend to be somewhat straightforward, which is nice, and don't have much use for spirituality or mysticism.

Take The RPG Class Test at HelloQuizzy

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Tell me there will be no more mis-takes [Dec. 12th, 2010|03:12 pm]
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Today is Gianni Fiorenza's 102nd birthday.

Happy birthday, Head Person of Some Note. I hope you get whatever you want tonight. But then, you usually do.

And we're back from WV. We were there way, way less than 24 hours, but the Madrigal thing was great, the kids are awesome, Nick's script was even better than last year, etc. etc. And Paco is awesome.

As a side note, god, my mother is weird.
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[Nov. 18th, 2010|02:30 pm]
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IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S FUCKING DONE OH MY GOD.

Fuck you, Paul.

That is all.
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I don't belong here in your garden, I should be up there on your throne [Nov. 15th, 2010|02:54 pm]
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Oh my god, I love shopping.

I haven't shopped in ages, actually. I mean, I haven't had time, but I also don't really need anything myself and, er, money. I do try not to, you know, blow it. But over the last week I've slowly built up Xmas gifts and I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN.

1. I have Christmas cards! And I might even use them, this time! (Okay, they're actually Happy New Year cards, seeing as I'm a raging atheist and my husband is Hindu. Whatever.)

2. BOOKS. People are getting books. In some cases signed books, which I've been arranging meticulously with the kind authors. Prepare for a FLURRY OF BOOKS, my friends.

3. I bought both Tara and Balaji the full series of "Sherlock". They were totally on sale--what a score! Mwahahaha!

4. I got Balaji a Novel-T Huckleberry Finn shirt. OMG. DUDES, these shirts are AWESOME. It's like sport jerseys for people who prefer to cheer for BOOKS. (Got myself the Gatsby one too. Not gonna lie. A JAY GATSBY JERSEY and it has the CAR on the front! Also, good number: 3!) ETA: they came today. Holy fuck, they are SOFT. And AWESOME.

5. My new Docs came while Hayley was here on Saturday! WEEEE! [ETA: I did actually need new shoes. The last pair I bought myself was 5 years ago for a wedding. Before that, when I went to grad school. Yeah. No wonder I have black trouble.]

6. And the funnest part, kid shopping. You should SEE this fucking pop-up book I got for Ruari and Raelin at the National Gallery. OH MY GOD DAVINCI. I want to send Kate (Nate and Reen's new baby) some kind of book, even though she's mini. Who else has kids I can randomly spoil for five seconds?

I have no fucking idea what to get my dad. Mom told me what she wants, some DVD series, and for Nick it definitely has to be a gamestop gift card, because he is poor as fuck and spends all his money on games. I keep giving Dad alcohol though. This will not do.

Okay, I go crazy once a year. I'm allowed, goddammit.
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[Oct. 31st, 2010|04:20 pm]
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Hey, you know what ELSE makes me feel better?

This fucking adorable drawing of cartoon!Tom and Paul, that's what!



Shannon van Muijden did it. She has all these cartoon dandies on her profile and... well, you can see why I asked her if she was game.

Hee!

Well, there's motivation to get the Resurrectionists page sorted on the website, huh? ADORABLENESS!

(See, doesn't Tommy look proud of himself? Yeeeeeah. And Paul? OMFG EXACTLY.)

I feel better already.
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[Oct. 18th, 2010|07:52 pm]
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Me: Why did that Lee Jeans ad show Mike Rowe's ass? I didn't need that. He's Mike Rowe!
Balaji: ... it wasn't for you. (shifty eyes)
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sneaking in the back door with dirty magazines [Oct. 18th, 2010|12:33 am]
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I'm home but I'm sleepy and achey and possibly full of hormones. I'm angry and a bit hateful--too tired to be anything else. Tired in weird ways you forget exist until you feel them.

But stuff in WV goes well. So that's what really matters. Nice to be home, too.

Some kind of detox/shut down day tomorrow. Normal service will resume shortly after. Assuming I can become less hateful by some alchemy of sleep and avoidance, anyhow.

Mostly I think I'm just ready for this dreadful fucking month to be over.
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I have been patient so long//that I have forgotten everything [Oct. 9th, 2010|02:12 am]
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1. Yep.
2. This is my new favorite old poem.
3. Fuck being 17 man. Oh my god, I love being 30 so hard.
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I didn't realize that you wrote poetry; I didn't realize you wrote such really awful poetry [Oct. 4th, 2010|12:54 pm]
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I have so much fucking work that wants done, I am twitching to get back to work on Resurrectionists, I need to go to the store since we have no fucking food in the house...

But all I want to do is curl up with my new Rimbaud book and ignore everything. Also, possibly work out until I drop from exhaustion.

I think RPP slush must be delayed for another day or two. I'll do the stuff to sort out Black Medicine Thunder and then I'll go to the store, come home, and work on Resurrectionists. I think if I can just get some work done there, I'll be back on the right track. Plus, I miss it really badly. Was supposed to be done by now. Got a long, long way to go, but I'm ready to bite the ass off a bear at this point.

Not getting anything done for a whole week makes me miserable, apparently. And misery = Rimbaud and working out. God.
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[Sep. 28th, 2010|10:59 pm]
I just got the best spam comment ever on my author blog. It said:

"My whole problem is my lips move when I think."

Me too, my friend. Me too.

(Or my fingers move, which is much, much worse.)
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I don't even know if you're a boy or you're a girl [Sep. 10th, 2010|01:29 am]
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Tim Burgess singing about smashing the sytem. Fuck, we'r... on Twitpic

Um fuck yeah. 15 years of love, so I don't care if dude cut his own hair trying to look like Joey Ramone. <3
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I only ever lie to make you smile [Sep. 9th, 2010|01:37 pm]
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Zero progress since that last post, but I somehow came up with 219051 errands that needed run yesterday (AGAIN), before Balaji zooms off leaving me and Tara without a car for the weekend. Now I'm preparing to head down to Union Station and grab her off the train. I cannot possibly mind this state of affairs.

BUT the cool thing is that when I get back to edits, I don't think I have to actually rearrange anything else. It's cuts from here on out, and I have some major ones coming up. So yay!

Charlatans time! I've never been to this club, and it's not in the greatest neighborhood, but hey. That's what cabs are for.

I convinced him we should buy the el cheapo opera tickets, since some Verdi would be good for me (and G, let's be honest, he can't help loving Verdi)--and that's the only one I really want to see this season. Alas, not all the tickets in the discounted sections were actually available for the, you know, DISCOUNT. They were open when I checked--when I logged in and put in the Generation O (club for opera fans under 35--I know, right?) code, no dice. Fuckers!

Then I realized Opera in the Outfield is doing that one, so I can see it for free at Nat's Park anyhow. Bwahahaha.

Also, yay football season.
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And all the attention is leading me to feel important (completely obnoxious) [Sep. 7th, 2010|12:56 am]
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Resurrectionists hard copy edit, in terms of 1.5 spaced pages:

125 / 358 (34.92%)


So I probably can get it sorted by the time Tara gets here. Yay!

After I do this I think I will go through and highlight all the dialogue for various characters in a given color. I really only need to bother with Tom, Becca, Paul, Hannah, Dart, and Will, so it might even be fun. But that's probably the best way to make sure there's a kind of acceptable speech pattern to everyone, I guess.

So this is tearing apart. Next is the hard part--putting Humpty back together.

But not til after I see the Charlatans, dammit!

And now, the new Interpol has just arrived. So, yes. Priorities.
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SPAM [Sep. 1st, 2010|04:10 pm]
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I should also add that "The Peacock and the Raven" went live today at Reflection's Edge. First Liberty Tree story, eeee!! But I'm holding off announcements for a day or two, as I'd rather focus my promotional efforts on RPP. You know.

Still, good day, I call it. Loads of research and rewrite prep (worksheets done, book read, printout should be waiting for me at Kinkos), new mag out and--well if people don't like it, they are sparing my feelings very nicely, anyhow, and a story published!

I'll pretend I'm not waiting for something horrible to happen, now :D
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[Sep. 1st, 2010|12:45 am]
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The Red Penny Papers #1

Check it out! Eeeeeee!
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she doesn't know that I left my urge in the icebox [Aug. 16th, 2010|04:57 pm]
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I woke up with a monstrous fucking headache, and it grew and grew. It is now not only monstrous, but godlike. It's like the Leto Fucking Atreides God-Worm of all Headaches.

Ouch, I mean to say. This fucking weather this summer has been a real motherfucker, you know?

Anyhow, I shouldn't complain. Yesterday I was still pretty braindead, so I did RPP formatting type stuff and a blog entry. Today I woke up, did some good hard re-read of Megh's final drafts for her stories (shiny!), and continued with Elan and Nieva. I'm up to 4251 words, Elan has just promised Nieva that busting out of a brothel will be easy with him by her side (poor sap--good thing she's there to save him), and my head is throbbing so badly that even Hot Chip can't make me finish. Son of a bitch.

I really need to jump into the 10 submissions competition. If I can get Elan and Nieva sorted and edit Peacock by tomorrow I'm in pretty good shape still. Wonder which one I'll try to write next. I wish I could tell ahead of time, but then I'd hate to start thinking about it just yet. One thing at a time for my poor confused brain.

We were supposed to go out to dinner tonight, too, and I always get so disappointed when I think I'm going to do something fun and then get owned like this. But Balaji has promised me sambar rice and I have a whole bottle of Jack Daniels, so whatever.

Small workout first though, as my hip has really been a dickhead about things for the past few days. (I did fuck it up in Phila. again, I'm forced to admit. Fuck.) But here's hoping it'll get me closer to the usual 45 minutes today than it did yesterday.

There's the cranky update. But it is what it is.

In ridiculous news, we were watching the MST3K "Jack Frost" last night, and it is my new favorite movie, so thanks again John! It's like Cinderella meets Baba Yaga on crack. There is even scope for a Tom Bombadil joke in it. I mean wow.

Jack Frost: You're a good girl, aren't you? Not the contradicting kind at all.
Balaji: [Gives me an evil look, waiting for the explosion to occur.]
Me: [Grits teeth]
(15 minutes later when I have a mouth full of water)
Balaji: I do wish you weren't quite so contradicting though, Kate.
Me: [Spew]

His timing is of the evil.
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when the cadaverous mob saves its doors for the dead men you cannot leave [Aug. 13th, 2010|09:25 pm]
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Of course my train home is 2 hours late, because Amtrak hates me. So here I am, sat in 30th Street Station unable to really form a rational thought because all weekend all I’ve been doing is thinking. Which would be great if it didn’t mean thinking as if I had sprung fully formed from the early 19th century—as in I feel compelled to use words like “daresay” and a lot of useless adverbs.

Anyhow this seems a good opportunity for me to record my thoughts on this rather impressive half a week here in Philadelphia, since I’m not otherwise usefully employed. For the first time in quite some time. I meant to do it last night, and the night before, but well we see how that turned out. Again, all that thinking. I'm not made for it, you know.

So the general idea on Wednesday was just to get here and get to it. Of course my train was late, but not so very, so I got here around 11, checked in, got sorted out, and still had some extra time. I took a cab to Society Hill, thinking I could see Dr. Philip Syng Physick’s house. (He was the professor of anatomy at the time at UPENN—also had a big fucking house in the necessary neighborhood, had just gone through a messy divorce of note, and invented soda. As a medicine, but Aldo was still fairly impressed.) Alas the house was not open, so I just roamed Society Hill and picked out a few likely houses, gauged the nearness of Physick house and Powel house, etc.

And so a little later than initially planned I made it to the Pennsylvania Historical Society. I’m glad I went here first, because they were the toughest—very intense about what you could and could not take in and out, made you pay for a locker to store the contraband, all that sort of thing. But I met their requirements somehow and got a nice librarian to explain to me how to get them to bring me the goods. I had already printed out call numbers and that sort of thing, so I sent them off in search of the personal effects of various persons of whom I had never heard before. Mostly Julia Rush Williams (daughter of Dr. Benjamin Rush, who would’ve been not long dead, being of half a generation before Dr. Appleby himself, and the most famous doctor in America at the time. So she would've been raised in a similar, but far more limelight-ish household) and Gertrude Gouverner Ogden Meredith. The former would be maybe 5 years older than Becca, but married and turning out babies already. The latter was older, but only by 10-15 years; also married and well into the babymaking process. I liked her letters the best because she was a writer and completely hilarious. I liked her sons’ letters too—there were more from William Morris Meredith, who was a state Rep for PA, but I liked Samuel’s better. He was younger, at school in New York, and insisted that he couldn’t possibly have written his mother as much as she liked last week because he had a cold that was so bad he was about “to go and hang myself!”

Adorable!

Anyhow I played historical voyeur from about 1pm to 7.30pm, which got me plenty of interesting phrases to use ala Heyer-research, and then toddled off for some overpriced wine and an excellent dinner. (What I saved on the inexpensive hotel, I generally spent on dinner. I’m okay with that.)

The next day to the Mutter museum—or rather their library. The librarian there was particularly helpful, and they didn’t care what I took in or out. What I learned about Bec and Hannah the day before I learned about Tom, Francis, and Paul there. (Though admittedly, Samuel Meredith‘s letters were VERY Paul. Obviously.) I was handed actual notebooks purchased at Front Street stationers (hey, now I know where they got their school supplies!) and scribbled in by these would-be physicians: lectures in anatomy by Dr. Physick, material medica, chemistry, surgery, etc. (Most of these notes were from winter terms on either end of '26, but I'm okay with that. I still say this book should happen in the spring/summer just so I can end it on Jul 4 1826. It's just that cool.) I now know all kinds of fascinating Latin terms that no doctor would ever use today—and some that they would! I also know precisely what Dart would’ve done for Tom’s bullet wound and what Tom would’ve done for Paul’s face. (Also spotted the occasional bored/distracted doodle, which was in its way even more awesome.)

Incidentally, it’s no wonder the mortality rate was so high. God, Lister could’ve come a bit sooner, couldn’t he?

Sadly my body sabotaged me about four notebooks in—which was okay since I only had one more I was thinking of looking at anyhow, and the cheerful librarian was nowhere to be found for the last hour even if I had wanted it. I ran downstairs to see the museum for an hour, then fucked off at closing time for the library with a head full of disturbing and fascinating medical anomalies. I ate at the typical chain restaurant Ruby Tuesdays, indulging in the veggie burger and, in much greater quantities, the restorative Jack and Coke.

By then you might imagine my back was fucking killing me, hauling my shit around Philadelphia for a few days like that. Granted, there’s pretty much nowhere in Philadelphia that takes more than 10 minutes to reach—at least so long as you’re in the city proper—but it’s still a pain in the ass when your back sucks like mine. Never mind that, there is research to be done! But my point is that that’s not quite the body issue I was having (if you’ll take my not so subtle hint) and so I spent the evening after that with a little paper cone of Godiva chocolate covered strawberries, crap decaf hotel coffee, and the History Channel. Then I curled up in a ball and, thankfully, slept the worst of the pain off.

Yes I felt better in the morning, I’m glad to say! So I got up and had the morning Luna Bar and hotel coffee, then made my way to the Library Company. The librarian there was a sweet middle-aged woman who helpfully did as her emails had promised and showed me how to find the exact newspapers I needed. I spent the morning flipping through the National Gazette and Literary Review for March-July 1826, snapping photos of interesting ads, notices, and happenings about town, happy in the knowledge that I now knew precisely what Paul was carrying tucked under his little arm all day, Becca and Hannah were fighting him for, and Tom was mocking heartlessly. Major topics of interest were Mr. Jefferson’s financial difficulties, the theater (naturally—hell now I actually know what was going on in it!), random ass foreign politics (particular interest in the English and French, but also stretching to the oddly far eastern), sensational murders, fires, &c., the stock market, the exhibition at the Institute of Fine Arts, and whether or not Genl. Jackson the dubious Hero of New Orleans might be a candidate for President in the next election. (Spoiler alert: he was.) Even found an advert for a newly minted copy of The Federalist and a lot of discussion of a duel between Calhoun and Randolph that was all very condemning and generally delicious.

Anyhow, I took lots and lots of reference pictures of it, so here’s hoping my camera loves me when I get home. I can hardly believe I remembered to bring the thing, it was so fucking useful. Knock on wood.

Today was also different, though. This day, I decided to eat lunch. For the past two days I had just been sneaking out for ten minutes, a bottle of water, and a pack of crackers. But today I retraced my steps to Society Hill (the Library Co. being just next to HSP, and therefore in familiar territory) and stopped at a Jimmy Johns for a cheese and mustard on the way. I swallowed it whole en route and returned to Physick House, where I took a tour with a strange and motley crew of other visitors and voyeurs (a middle aged man and his old ass, chatty, amateur historian father + a very probably gay couple, who snerked with me a lot). Most useful, and I hopped a cab back so as not to make the whole adventure last much more than an hour.

(I found out that Raphael Peale was buried nearby and wanted to go and pay my respects, like Paul would've wanted. Oh well, next time!)

Then I finished up with The Aurora and Franklin or whatever it was called—the decidedly more democratic flavored Philadelphia paper, but I only made it through the spring. I needed to look at the Philadelphia Visitor’s Guide and Directory for 1825 (1826 was not available, but I think I’ll survive), which pretty well answered my remaining questions.

I left a good 20 minutes before the sweet little librarian would’ve had to throw me out on my ass, repaired to the nearest Italian bistro for a well-timed martini. I also ate half of about everything I ordered (pasta primavera should probably not be swimming in butter, because that is gross; that said, the house wine was all right, and the crème brulee rather good).

And then I went off to pick up the bags, which the hotel had been so good as to watch for me all day, caught a cab, and here I sit. Well, I did have to remind Balaji to buy Interpol tickets, as they went on general sale this morning, but that’s about all the excitement after entering 30th Street Station. Certainly nothing like a train arriving. Not one going south, anyhow.

In short (see, I almost wanted to say “In fine”—it’s happening again, goddammit!!) it was a useful, worthwhile, and excellent research trip. I hope to god my pictures worked. I took a lot of notes by hand in the HSP and I transcribed a lot of the most important pages (the anatomy lectures in particular) at the Mutter. But it wasn’t at all useful to do that today with the tiny little newspaper articles and—yeah. Lots of the letters just need to be seen in situ—no that’s not the phrase I want, goddammit I’m turning into Bertie Wooster misusing this Latin bullshit. It's one of the few we art historians know, though. Anyhow, you know what I mean. Even if the camera busts somehow it will have been worthwhile. If it doesn’t, it will have been incredible value for the dollar.

And now it says it's 2hrs 15 minutes late. I think I need another drink, the last 3 are really wearing off. Also, this bench is like a church pew. Which is uncomfortable, though probably not for the reasons my mother would hope.
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