It’s hot. Damn hot. Real hot. So hot that both my computers are making high-pitched whining noises. The heat is apparently killing my monitor, too, because it flickers spastically until night falls, when a cool breeze flows in from my bedroom window.

The highs reached 85 today. To you Tucson residents, that may sound ideal, but swap your air conditioners for heavy humidity and you’ll get an idea of what I’m feeling.

As I understand it, Seattle has about two months where it doesn’t rain, and we entered that span when I came back from San Diego. Not only does it not rain, there aren’t even any clouds in the sky. Every time I look up, I see a sky the color of a television tuned to a dead channel… ie, unbroken blue, not the gray static that filled dead channels back when William Gibson wrote those words.

(UPDATE: I wrote that yesterday. Today, of course, it’s overcast. Go figure.)

This is also the time of year Seattle’s neighborhoods hold their outdoor events. Ballard had its annual SeaFest this weekend, as witnessed by the phonepics on the left. Capitol Hill’s Block Party gets all the press thanks to performances by big local bands, and I thought about attending that too, but I’m nothing if not lazy.

Besides, between the Michaelson party and SeaFest, I got far, far too much sun as it is. I don’t like to let my neck get too red — brings back too many childhood memories.

All kinds of cool trailers have come out recently: Terry Gilliam’s The Brothers Grimm, Neil Gaiman’s Mirrormask, the second and final Serenity trailer, and V for Vendetta, which actually looks pretty faithful and fairly promising.

Speaking of Vertigo comics made into movies, I finally saw Constantine earlier today, which I’d rented from Netflix. And you know what? If you disregard the vast changes from the source material and take the movie on its own terms… it’s still a piece of crap. One action movie or horror cliche after another, combined into one overlong plot that makes no fucking sense whatsoever. The comic is a lot more fun.

In the midst of another randomly busy week. Had my once-every-month-or-two drinking session with Dennis at the Lock & Keel on Wednesday. I’d been recently bragging that I’d never been sick or seriously hungover from drinking, which is never a good idea. It angers the Gods of Boozing. So naturally, they graced me with a slight headache and generally oogy feeling the next morning, as a reminder.

The following night was Writer’s Meetup night at the Blue Star pub in Fremont, but it ended up being a wash. Only two of us showed up. We may have to recruit new members, or find another group to join.

Meanwhile, tomorrow night I’m attending a birthday party for someone I’ve never met but am apparently related to through my uncle. Whoever they are, I hope they don’t mind my showing up, eating their food, and drinking their booze.

“Just finished” in this case meaning “finished it over a week ago but have been too lazy to write it up.”

Lust Lizard is a Christopher Moore novel (in fact, the last Moore novel I had yet to read), so you pretty much know what you’re getting into. The only question, much like a new Discworld novel, is whether it’s merely good (Island of the Sequined Love Nun, Fluke) or hilariously brilliant (Lamb, Coyote Blue).

Lust Lizard falls closer to the latter category. It’s a Chris Moore sex comedy. Really, I can stop there, because that’s all you need to know. But the plot starts well, takes a well-executed twist involving the Sheriff, and ends with everything tied together in a way that Moore doesn’t always manage in his other books.

Plus, it features a dragon named Steve who eats several dumb people, which should please the owners of those bumper stickers informing me that non-existent creatures find me tasty with condiments.

(Speaking of Moore, does anyone else think Neil Gaiman’s upcoming Anansi Boys sounds an awful lot like Coyote Blue, substituting African trickster gods for the Native American variety? As Roger Ebert says, a story is not what it’s about, but how it is about it, and I’m sure Gaiman’s version will be very good and different and Gaiman-y, but it still feels a bit like I’ve read it already.)

Compared to other people’s massive collections of San Diego pics, I only had a handful that turned out well. I’ve uploaded them to Flickr.

Peter Watts and Nancy Kress take opposite tacks in their tales of human re-engineering. Kress’s Beggars in Spain features humans born without the need to sleep, who are therefore perfect, gorgeous, depression-free geniuses (as of the first 100 pages). Watts’s Starfish takes the mentally damaged, refits them with iron lungs, and puts them in the deepest trenches of the ocean.

Guess which group is more interesting?

Now Watts has released the first two books of the Rifters trilogy, Starfish and Maelstrom, for Internet download with a Creative Commons license. One of his fans has already converted Starfish to PDA-friendly formats. Go forth and read.

Shaenon Garrity, that is. First she’s quoted in a Wired article about professional web cartoonists. Next, the chairman of the Web Cartoonists Choice Awards will be on G4 cable network’s Attack of the Show on August 12 to chat about this year’s winners, including Narbonic.

With all this positive press, I wish we still had some copies of Vol. 1 for sale, but we’re out of stock until Biblio returns our books. They decided to stop distributing the book MONTHS ago, but are still holding on to several hundred copies for no apparent reason, the bastards.

At lunch today, I bought one of those Jones sodas with a fortune inside the cap. It said “Hide for a few days.” I was thinking the same thing.

I’m too exhausted to think straight, having disturbing dreams, and even grouchier than usual. Chalk it up to lack of alone time. Back in Tucson, when I returned from the intense crowds of Comic-Con, I was able to go back to work in my quiet office with a door and my solitary townhome. Sometimes I would go all day without seeing or talking to another person.

It’s one of the reasons I left Tucson — I was tired of the loneliness. Now, with an overcrowded workplace and my brother as a roommate, I really miss it. I’m one of those introverts who needs alone time to sort of mentally reload. Solitary confinement at a prison is sounding better all the time.

Jim is still working at Emerald Downs with a weekend schedule, so I’ll get a small reprieve. I want to sleep for about nine hours, play some Pirates! on the XBox, watch A Very Long Engagement, All the President’s Men, and Zoolander from Netflix (none of which I’ve seen before).

Basically? Hide for a few days.

If I had to choose ten films to take to a desert island with me, believe it or not, Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space might be one of them. I’ve seen it so often I can quote dialogue. It’s the greatest bad movie experience of all time.

And now it’s available for free download from the Internet Archive. I already have my DVD copy with all the extras, but some of you might find this handy.

THE BAD:

The hotel, which was not “European-style” as advertised, but in fact “a converted YMCA,” complete with communal toilets and dorm-sized rooms.

The kids partying in the hallway outside my room at 3am, giggling like they just had their first beer. I’m far too old for that college shit.

Staying on the 6th floor with a broken elevator. (Did I mention all of this was $74/night? Cheap for Comic-Con, but still…)

Wandering around Gaslamp on Friday night, frustrated at being unable to get a hold of anyone until much later, and ending up in a horrific sports bar called Jolt’n Joe’s because it was the only place with open seats.

Seeing most of my internet friends for only a few minutes, seemingly, if at all.

Being too tired and far away from the Hyatt to take advantage of the swimming pool and hot tub.

Having to skip Joss Whedon and the Serenity panel.

Not purchasing a single comic.

The crowds, oh lord, the crowds.

THE GOOD:

Spending time with Laurel.

Learning the hotel was next door to the trolley station, which could bypass traffic and take us straight to the convention center for $1.25.

Finally getting my hands on copies of Narbonic, vol. 2, the book I published.

Laurel’s gleeful reaction at being showered with free advance paperback books at the HarperCollins booth.

Those completely awesome V for Vendetta masks given away at a panel. I’m jealous I didn’t get one.

Ditching the convention on Saturday afternoon to go back to the hotel and finish off a fifth of strawberry vodka with Laurel. Followed by dinner with Tim and Chelsea.

Experiencing the Quick Draw panel for the first time, after hearing how hilarious it was last year. They were right.

Ninety minutes of Jhonen Vasquez.

Ditching the convention on Sunday afternoon to head to the airport early with Laurel. (Sensing a theme here…)