Yesterday was Bloomsday. On top of being the 99th anniversary of the day that James Joyce's Ulysses took place, it was also the day that I got laid off from my job. I knew it was coming, but it came two weeks earlier than I expected, and frankly, that's fine by me. I'm getting my final paycheck and three weeks of severance pay, which should hold me over until I start getting unemployment checks and/or find another job. Not that I want another job, really. I'd rather stay home and write than work, but I'm sure everyone knows that already.

But I can't stay home and write, because I literally fried my computer the other night. My hard drive, and the writing thereupon, seems to have survived, but right now I'm without a computer to write on. I could sit here and use my brother's, but a) I don't have my new novel available, and b) it's highly uncomfortable. My only option is to write by hand, which I hate to do, so I won't, unless it's something minor.

Jim Knipfel's novel The Buzzing is an enjoyable read, by the way. So is Umberto Eco's newest, Baudolino, especially if you're into all the weird shit that Christians believed circa 1200. I've started Samuel Delany's Dhalgren, but I'm not far enough into it to make much of a judgment yet.

Oh yeah- Invisible College Press has put up a not-quite-complete website for my novel. Check it out here.

Once I get a computer back, transmissions from the Corpse-Satellite will become more regular, I hope.