I’ve grown quite fond of the bow I’m currently using. It fires straight and true and generally hits whatever I’m aiming at. Yes, it’s true that it’s the person not the tool, but at the same time even the best shooter can’t shoot with a bent bow.
On the other hand, it’s taken quite its fair share of damage between zombies and explosions and just general tromping around underground, and I suspect it’s going to break quite dramatically on me soon.
I’m working on creating a new bow, but I’m going to miss this one.
I read while I’m on the exercise bike because hey, a reason to be on the exercise bike. The last few days I’ve been reading The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher (pen name for Ursula Vernon).
Tonight I biked for 80 minutes and realized my legs would fall off before I’d finish the book. As I’d reached a point where not-finishing was not an option, I kept reading after removing myself from the bike.
I think my heart raced just as much after I got off the book as when I was on it.
Everything in T. Kingfisher’s books tends to be very logical… I find myself thinking “oh well of course”, and also “oh holy shit how did I not see that coming, of course that’s made of that other thing because why else would you have one of those?” and I’m telling you, if you like your horror to be made of bits and pieces of Chekov’s Gun running around with murder on its mind, this book is for you.
A few things I’d heard about the book that are true:
* Deer are not as safe an animal as you thought
* The dog is established to live through the whole book from the very beginning so there’s no wondering
* It is apparently possible to write a jump scare.
The dialog is fantastic. The characterizations are amazing. The world building is enough to make you grit your teeth and bike for 80 minutes without realizing you’d been on the bike 80 minutes. Thank heavens I didn’t have a dog asking to go out or there’d be a puddle on the floor.
I’m not sure when or if I’ll sleep again, and I’ve never been so glad to be living in the exurbs instead of the rural neighborhood of my parents.
Anyway, read. Then keep locked in the closet the rest of the time. That might work.
It occurs to me that I’ve been here long enough at this point that I’ve missed years of major holidays. Planetary Independence Day has come and gone at least twice. New Year’s, obviously, at least two. And forget all the Earth-time-based holidays, since without a conversion calendar I have no idea what day it is on the home planet these days.
It’s always spring here, always just early June where it’d be nice to have a jacket in the middle of the night but not so hot during the day that I want to strip naked. (Which is really good considering the monsters.
And I think without the seasons change or the ship-based reminders, it’s just really hard to keep track of the date.
(Plus I’m still not sure this isn’t all a hallucination.)
It doesn’t feel like solstice, but this planet might not have a solstice.
It’s just really odd.
It occurs to me that all this loose cobblestone I’ve got filling bins and boxes and anything else I can use it for so it doesn’t constantly trip me could probably be used as the foundation of a good solid home.
This place is like swiss cheese. Sometimes I have no idea how it stays together with me digging giant tunnels through it. I swear I saw a rock float the other day.
Came out of my cave this morning and got jumped by six zombies, two skeletons, and an exploding giraffe-corgi.
Somewhere along the lines the zombies and the skeletons started fighting, but not until someone, I’m still not sure who, had managed to shred the seat out of my armor.
Let me just say that when you’re in the middle of a firefight for your life, suddenly feeling a breeze in the nether regions is not exactly what you’re looking for.
I’ve got the situation straightened out now, minus a good number of cuts and bruises. I’m seriously considering the possibility of taking a day off tomorrow.