Bill came calling, but we had plenty of advanced warning. He turned into a tropical storm the other evening. People went crazy, emptying the shelves in the grocery stores, concentrating on water and bread, apparently. I guess they were expecting some sort of apocalyptic event instead of just what we around here affectionately call “showers.” Granted, it rained a fair amount, but I think the storm we had on Memorial Day was worse, and that one didn’t even merit a name. Some wag on Twitter suggested there were going to be a lot of homemade croutons next week as people tried to figure out what to do with the excess bread.
Even though the center of the storm, now a Tropical Depression instead of a Tropical Storm, has moved well past us, Bill has a long tail, as you can see from the accompanying satellite image. That means the storm is still pulling moisture from the Gulf and occasionally dumping it on us. So there could still be some local street flooding but, for the most part, T.S. Bill was a bit of a fizzle. Not that anyone’s complaining. Except the people who bought all that bread.
My short story “The Bottle of Red Zinfandel” will be in issue 6 of SciPhi Journal, due out soon. Their illustrator, Cat Leonard, did spot illustrations for each story. Here’s what she conjured up for mine.
The journal features science fiction stories with a philosophical context and mine contemplates the repercussions of teleportation.
We’re into the fourth season of Battlestar Galactica, after the stunning reveal at the end of the third season: the identities of four of the sleeper cylons. That means there’s just one remaining to be revealed. My money is on the cigarette-smoking doctor! I have to say that this is a more sophisticated and complex series that tackles some interesting issues and develops strong character relationships than anything Star Trek ever managed to do. I still can’t believe I overlooked it for so many years.
In learning some basic guitar chords, I have discovered that the lower-E string, the thickest, is more trouble than it’s worth much of the time. How many of the major chords require you to skip it? The F, B and D chords sound light-weight to my ear without that lower component, compared to the other chords.
I’m reading Last Words by Michael Koryta, who I met at Necon last year. Our hero has just been placed unconscious deep inside a cave. When he comes to, he’s wearing only his underwear and it’s completely dark. Totally. He has no idea where he is (he figures out it’s a cave fairly soon) or how to get out. This is very creepy stuff.
