Thursday, September 27, 2007

Another unproductive day yesterday. This time I can blame it on the unexpected visit from the maids. Though there's also the fact that I'm thinking about what I'm going to do next. I've kind of lost oomph for the project I've been working on all year. Though I do have enough of it for submission, and I'll continue to submit it for the unlikely event that someone will want to publish it, in which case I'll redo the nine pages I lost and continue with the rest of it. But right now, I've thought up two rather large projects I'm thinking I might try to take on simultaneously.

The only useful thing I really did yesterday was to restore some of the software I lost.

I spent more time with Second Life last night, mainly hunting clothes with the aid of Spooky, who managed to procure for me a swell tuxedo. I've only been in the world a few days, and already I have the look of an aristocrat. It sort of reminds me of the beginning of Swing Time, where Fred Astaire's wandering penniless in New York wearing his wedding tux.

At Spooky's recommendation, I visited a land called Svarga, which was an impressive isle of giant mushrooms, oversized ferns, and a smattering of beautiful, vaguely Middle Eastern architecture. A little car took me on a tour of the place, and I was pleasantly reminded of Disneyland.

Later in the evening, after a glass of scotch and some slices of provolone cheese (I know, I'm just asking the headache to come back), I went back into Second Life and saw that Spooky had made a great deal of progress with the Gorey house, having added a nice set of windows and a balcony. I started teleporting to random lands, the most fascinated of which was a large, quiet, labyrinthine white city, its architecture apparently modelled after the Gondorian style as seen in the Lord of the Rings movies. I appeared in the water before its harbour, where a small galley was docked. I climbed onto the white stone and began wandering the streets, finding the place to be more complex than I'd first perceived, and I passed intricate little courtyards and empty shops, glimpsing culs-de-sac and quiet plazas down the various alabaster alleys. The place was deathly quiet and I didn't see a soul except a single cloaked figure walking around a corner across a canal. The whole thing was very dreamlike, especially with the scotch and the fact that it was almost time for me to sleep. I can hardly believe I'm getting to sleep at 2:30am lately.

Well, I suppose it's time I tried to get some things done . . .

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