Oh good grief, I'm going to WorldCon. I've spent most of the day working frantically so as to get as much done on detail as possible (yes, I checked in overview Friday, with much rejoicing, and then did in fact go to dinner at St. Michael's and was very silly and self-satisfied). Right now I'm doing a backup, since Omi's script has broken oddly and I don't have time to fix it before I vanish, so I'm just inserting values into the script by hand. I should send email to people letting them know that the script is broken -- but hmn, if it's just confused by days beginning with 0, then I can probably fix it quickly. I waffle.

I also, for the moment, do not code; I need to test my screen, and I can't really do that while running a backup, as safari slows to a pained crawl.

It's back. I fixed Omi's script, in a very kludgey way. My tiny change worked, and so it's now back to coding. To accompany me in this I have Over the Rhine's Patience, care of Gretchen, who loaned me a ton of music when I went to her place Saturday for tea-and-sushi. Other music loaned to me by Gretchen includes two Jane Siberry albums (The Speckless Sky and Maria, both of which I requested -- I'm convinced that more than two of Siberry's many albums must be good, but so far I haven't figured out which ones. The Speckless Sky (yesterday's listening) isn't bad, but didn't grab me immediately -- then again, neither did any of her other stuff), a Pele Juju album (some band Czr likes a lot who plays in Santa Cruz regularly), Dave Mathews Band (Crash), Morphine (Good ), and Ruby (Salt peter). I have no idea how many of these I'm going to enjoy, but Over the Rhine is a serious win. I must go buy their albums. Soon.

Planned on-plane reading includes From the End of the Twentieth Century, which is the collection of John M. Ford shorts that I was reading in December and never finished due to some reason which now escapes me. Also slated are the second volume of my weird Chinese novel (The Story of the Stone -- volume two is entitled The Crab-Flower Club, which so far as I can tell is the name of a poetry club the characters of the book put together -- but I'm only twenty or so pages in, so who knows?), and perhaps Slow River (Nicola Griffith -- if my copy isn't packed), and Half the Day is Night (Maureen McHugh, and ditto).

Too much to do, too little time. I go now to be virtuous and accomplish something.