I should have posted ten days ago about my week in NoCal, but I didn’t, and now it’s all a big blur. But let’s try:

• Shout-out to all my homies at the Locus party.
• Don’t see King Arthur unless you’re, like, a serious Clive Owen fan. (And even then, don’t pay full price.) Also: that guy from Horatio Hornblower should actually play Lancelot some time, instead of just some guy named Lancelot. He’d be good.
• Hero proves
  1. that Jet Li is The Man
  2. that Maggie Chung is a serious contender for The Woman, and
  3. that I’m bored with wire-fighting now.
• San Jose’s ethnic and economic diversity make Seattle look like Omaha. —No, like a middle-class white suburb of Omaha.
• I may have to get a new freezer, so I can justify ordering It’s Its by the case. Unless somebody can tell me where to get them up here.

Now, what happened after that?

Finished revising “Finisterra” and sent it off to Ms. Datlow. (I think I’ve reached some new Zen state in my writing career, because the fact that “Finisterra” is the first thing I’ve submitted since “Five Irrational Histories” last November — and that was invitational — doesn’t embarrass me in the slightest.)

Finished a first draft of “Planet of the Amazon Women” in time to have the Fairwood Writers’ Group look at it for tomorrow evening. That one I expect to be in the ether to Strange Horizons by the end of the month.

Finished proofreading the anthology. So did Jay. So did Kathy Oltion. Hooray for blue pencils and folded-down corners. Guess what I’ll be spending this weekend doing.

Got an initial version of the new Cascade Kendo Kai web site up and runnng, including registering a domain, setting up a hosting provider, the whole twenty-seven shaku.

Helped put on a kendo demo at the Eastside Nihon Matsuri. Got to see the Relnick-senseis’ Katori Shinto Ryu kenjutsu, always a treat. (Also got to see Shorinji Kempo in action and confirmed to myself that if I ever have time, while I’m still in Seattle, to squeeze in another martial art in addition to kendo, short-story-do, novel-do and anthology-do, these guys are it.)

Spent too much time surfing the web while waiting for stuff to compile and deploy.

Saw Stephen Fry’s “Bright Young Things” last night, it reaching this part of the world at long fucking last, and enjoyed it immensely. (I could probably pick holes in it if I wanted to, but I don’t. If it seems at all like the sort of thing you might like, see it. Then let’s talk about it, maybe over some absinthe.) Stephen Campbell Moore definitely gets the prize for Aspiring Writer It Would Be The Most Cool To Be As Cool As, beating out, well . . . hmm. I can’t think of any particularly good films about writers ’ve seen lately.

Had weird dreams all last night about partying hard in the blogosphere. (Dream-Wonkette — who looked kind of like the younger, plumper Janeane Garofalo of “Reality Bites”, and not very much like Ana Marie Cox — was miffed when I told her I didn’t enjoy her blog as much after I found out she was paid to do it.) Probably a result of the previous two items.

Got not enough sleep and ate not enough green vegetables.

As I said, further bulletins, etc.