Writing days . . . .

1. Spring 1970.  Writing on THE FOREVER WAR at the outdoor hot dog cafe in Brooksville. It opened at 9 in the morning and had ice-cold beer. Outside of town, on the road to Ocala. Biked there with the Olivetti Valentine strapped on the bike, maybe a half-mile. They had great foot-long chili dogs!

But I'd start my day before that.  I'd usually get up around 4 and have a quick shower while the espresso machine perked. Wake up with a triple espresso and then decelerate into deceptively strong Luzianne (half chicory).

Best writing days . . . 

Writing at home before dawn, while our Manx Petie (named after Heinlein's Petronius Arbiter) sat and napped in the bookcase overhead. Once she started make retching noises, and I just managed to snatch the typewriter away in time!

2. Same machine, an Olivetti Valentine,  writing in the bodega across the alleyway from our little hotel in Sevilla, Old Town.

(On perhaps the same machine, I wrote a story about a storm to end all storms, typing in the most pleasant environment imaginable -- on the fragrant veranda of a motel in Montego Bay, surrounded by humid darkness.  Quiet surf  under a crescent moon.)  

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DEADWOOD, by Pete Dexter

Just finished reading DEADWOOD, by Pete Dexter, for the second time. I read it some years ago in Australia, and it stuck in my mind -- so strongly that when I picked it up again a couple of weeks ago, at random, I kept on reading. It's an unusually rewarding book.
It's sort of in the fake-biography mode, carefully researched but amplified with rumors that brush factuality without surrendering to actual truth. Wild Bill Hickock is the locus, rather than focus, of the book, set in and around Deadwood, South Dakota, in the years after the Civil War.
Dexter is a good and careful writer with more experience with actual trauma than any writer needs, once hospitalized after a truly epic bar fight.
It's commercial writing, but with a real difference. Characters to care about in an authentic setting that unfolds in growing complexity.

Back in Gainesville

We watched Aldebaran blink out last night in occultation, right on time at 10:59 p.m. Right above the quarter moon. Quietly magical. Nicely scheduled; we just came in from a Pierce Pettis concert, and watched it from the driveway.

A nice cool morning today, mid-fifties. It was also gorgeous yesterday, and we went out to the Town of Tioga for an art fair, and a good lunch at the Spanish restaurant, Saboré.

I was greatly tempted by a couple of clever pens, repurposed military ammunition. But the most impressive ones were $50, so I resisted.

I didn't take any special drawing stuff to the concert, but did a pencil sketch in my small dinosaur notebook. (Somehow I got mixed up trying to draw his hands playing the guitar and got the right and left mixed up! That's what I get trying to do two things at once.) (Oh well -- Picasso did it too, and got paid well for it.)

Will be going to meet Doris Nabors and sister-in-law Barbara for lunch. (Three cardinals, two of them bright red boys, playing out by the feeder in back. Plus a couple of mockingbirds, much annoyed by them.)

Winter Star Party VII-Saturday

We had a few hours of good observing last night, though I got tired and pooped out. There wasn't a long line at the star telescope (so to speak), a giant 10" refractor., where we saw gorgeous colors in the Orion Nebula, and a stunning clear view of "the Pup," the dim white-dwarf companion to Sirius. (It's nine magnitudes dimmer than the Dog Star, whose flood of brilliance normally washes out the Pup.)
We did a little exploring during the day. Went to the Blue Hole, a fresh-water pond that's a circular crater that is actually a deep salt-water hole with a "lens" of fresh rainwater floating on top. Fresh-water fish like bass live there. And three alligators.

Winter Star Party VI-Friday

Friday: Saw a Key Deer a couple of houses away yesterday morning.
We went over to the Winter Star Party site, but heavy clouds moved in.. We were moved by Christian charity to buy a box of Girl Scout cookies from a table of cuties, though, and charitably munched a dozen or so, walking back.
Too tired from our labors to even watch television. More torpidity than labor, I suppose. We'd also had a generous supper up at the No Name Bar & Grill, a large order of fried grouper.
(The place was full of HUGE people, which might have impaired my appetite a little. I wonder whether they all live on the island, and they're lithe and beautiful until about thirty, when with great relief they surrender to their appetites.)
Still scattered clouds this morning, but they're beautiful high cumulus, cheerful and hopeful. Except to astronomers, perhaps.
I hope we have another good night of observing tonight, but it was good to have the one.
I got a nice pair of binoculars yesterday, to replace the lost 7X50's. These are a little smaller, 8X42. Noticeably lighter, for birding, but still good light-gathering power.
I have four hard-cooked eggs sitting in hot water. Delicious farm-fresh, perhaps from the cacklers that wander around underfoot. Think I'll attack a couple of them.