Dru, Steinbeck and the Book of Deer

Dear Juliet Three themes for today: regeneration, the TARDIS and Point Lobos. So: Okay, that was odd. Apparently, the pills were a marathon which I miraculously cruised through apart from this momentary snap at the end. Two pills to go and then I am done. And it actually feels like I just regenerated ... It was subtle, but a bit like everything just sharpened up a bit and my perceptions cleared... I guess that thirty-five year-old blood of mine did the trick, brought me back. And you're still reading about Point Lobos? Well, I once did the first five chapters of an unpublished novel called "I'm In Marsport Without..." , included time travel and set it at the Point. Nobody bit, but here's an extract: "The sky was stone cold blue, and it didn’t look friendly because it wasn’t. California Highway 1 looked like the usual flat black ribbon of tarmac, which it was; and there was I, stoned out of my mind, sitting on a petrified tree log just south of Point Lobos, wo...

Dear Juliet I borrowed the title from an old British film , but I don't think the convention was invaded by German troops ( Gorns , maybe) and that you'll live to fight another day. I'm hoping this fatigue of mine won't last too long, and a trip to the physiotherapist and osteopath should ease off that twinge in my back. Then it looks like there will be one last walk to New Cross after all. My doctor had suggested either one final telephone call or an actual appointment so I decided to be sociable. So, as I can't think too creatively at the moment, that's my news. But I'm going to London again 18th-20th August, I'll get you a few more photographs and see if I bump into the King. Since there isn't much to say today (I don't think you'd be interested in a picture of my filing cabinet), I'll just dip into my archives and tell you an old story about you, me and Jim from the NAS. Some time around 2012 or so, Jim asked me if the email correspon...

Dear Juliet I'd better just mention that, after eleven-and-a-half months with virtually no side-effects from the Trametinib and Dabrafenib pills I'm on, they're knocking me for six at the last. They're finishing up on Sunday but it looks like I'll be horizontal until then, which is a depressing subject for a blog. However, they'll be finished and I'm clear of cancer, which is better news. So I suppose the way I'd work today's words is this: You were still worth me dragging myself to my desk to punch out these few short words; and I felt an odd twinge of worry the other day, wondering whether you'd be okay at the convention. I'm worrying about nothing, I suppose. Have a good con! Sorry, I gotta go collapse! Love, James

Dear Juliet Just a quick one to wish you luck at the San Diego comic-con. Got that usual twinge of worry a little earlier, but I'm sure everything will be fine. Well, doing so again reminds me of that long and joyful period in 2011 or so when I wished you luck for Danny and the Deep Blue Sea . Good run and great reviews... Have a good con! Love, James

Dear Juliet I hope San Diego's comic-con won't be too overwhelming for you. Admittedly, I do know well you've done it before . Too much light and sound and furore can break down an Asperger and cause a meltdown. However, all that really means is that our ability to cope with all this input is less than yours. Or in other words, we'll just crack up first . I got pitched into so many stressful situations that I think I developed a hard-won resistance to all the sound and fury, but I can't filter out extraneous noise so if it gets too loud, I go deaf. Some arenas are bigger than others, too; and I understand San Diego is pretty massive. Homo Sapiens Mark One was never designed to cope with all this. I once heard that in one day, we have to cope with as much information as a caveman did in his entire life. So it can easily become overwhelming, but I'm sure there will be chill-out zones and water aplenty available. It's a bit of a grind, though. For us fans, too....

Dear Juliet As I've just had a physiotherapist pounding my back with a mallet (okay, slight exaggeration there), I don't feel up to a long post today; but as you're going to San Diego  (not Scarborough Fair !) I'll make you a cambric shirt of memory from the early days of you, me, Dear Miss Landau and the comic-cons... London, late 2010. I'm carrying the divine statuette, I've been in the gym (boxing and otherwise) for six months and the shuttle's flying into Heathrow. I'm very nervous, but as we come into land I notice that thinking of you gives me a little extra edge when I'm writing. I guess you're my muse. I stay with a difficult friend in Muswell Hill, circuit towards Heathrow's Renaissance Hotel via Covent Garden and the Underground. There's some jam in Covent Garden so I take the emergency spiral staircase, statuette in hand... 193 steps. I want to get you a rose, and learn there's actually a flower seller in Leicester Square...