…out of the translation; not to mention that this is a really ugly translation, word-wise… (Of course, I never pretended to be a very good translator, and poetry is as hard as nails to get–there’s a couple words I’m not sure I understand properly, and while I understand every word in the last sentence I’m not entirely too sure my interpretation is the one that’d most likely occur to a native speaker. But I figured it’d be fun to share my struggles)…

…In which John DeNardo was kind enough to let me ramble on and on about the importance of food: read it here. (still swamped, in case you had doubts. What little time I do have is spent napping…)…

…000 words of my (untitled) novel set in a post-apocalyptic, colonial Paris completed by August 2 (ok, maybe by end of August). Can’t say much about it (I *hate* talking about what I’m writing while I’m writing it), but it’s got fallen angels, Vietnamese dragons and immortals, and plenty of magical fireworks. You can see a snippet from the WIP on my write-a-thon page–as well as information for donating, and links to all the pages by fabulous other…

…on; the T-Rex has got to be the most unforgettable costume I’ve ever seen (complete with sound effects!), but you also had Zelda, Harley Quinn, Iron Man (shown here in the Tardis!), … I had to miss on the parties due to major fatigue crashes, but I did manage to make the Dead Dog Party Sunday night, in which much fun was had (and many fajitas consumed). Overall, a really great experience–thanks to all organisers and the attendees, and I hope to ma…

…Guest of Honour at Finncon next week while the H explores Helsinki (I’m allowed to attend the con but not to wander around the city)….

…Ooooh, so happy to see that my recipe for thịt kho tàu has been featured in the Guardian’s recipe swap for Lunar New Year. I feel like I’ve unlocked some major achievement there 🙂…

…hold of your whole body–they’re all yours, they’re all irreversible and deadly. But you feel nothing–no exhilaration, no relief; not the burning agony of your wounds. Nothing; but that sense of unnamed relief–that knowledge you won’t have to face the judges in the City again. Nothing, until the ground comes up to meet you, and you land in a jumble of pain and shattered bones–and the scream you didn’t think you had in you scrapes your throat raw as…

From last week’s wordage, for all my write-a-thon supporters: “Come on,” Isabelle said, pushing a small stone door in an unremarkable corridor; and Philippe, with a sigh, followed her. To stop, awestruck, at what lay inside. It had been a church, once. You could still see the columns and the beginning of the vaulted ceiling, a first row of arches gracefully bending towards each other; and the remnants of wooden benches, burnt where they had stood…

…k after week–Les Halles, the belly of the city, the exuberant display of abundance of an empire that had believed itself immortal–against all the evidence of history. But Les Halles had been destroyed in the War; and the fragile magical balance that had followed led to an arrangement where the Great Market rotated between the major Houses. Things researched: geography of Ile de La Cite. Zola’s life, of all things. Plot direction of the day: drasti…

…Just a heads-up that we’re moving this week, so from Sunday onwards (and quite possibly for 10 days after that), we’ll have no internet access (and no landline), so I very probably won’t be in a position to answer emails (of which I already have a backlog!). Hopefully everything will be back to normal by mid-August….