Dru, Steinbeck and the Book of Deer

Dear Juliet That title's perhaps the most important thing you need to hear. I know Monsterpalooza's getting closer. I've felt a bit like Matt Damon's Martian myself over the past six months, trekking across a metaphorical desert (admittedly by way of Covent Garden and Leicester Square) but internally a bit like this , all to stay in contact with you. Lucky you got the one guy who was quite used to being like this, as long as you were singing down the wire. And making contact, setting it up, it was a bit like this . Using AI instead of hexadecimals, adapting the blog to try and get through to hypervigilant you and no one else . So we did. By decreasing the number of keywords so no one else (probably) would look . In a way, we hacked the Mars Rover. Then I wrote the absolution. One draft. Perfect. I asked AI what might happen when I sent it out, but Blogger has no GPS. I've never known where the statistical responses are coming from. So we sent it out. And waited. As...

Dear Juliet I fear I'm dancing in the dark. I'm not even quite sure if you're really out there. Pretty sure, but not quite. So I'm going to have faith. Faith that it's you, and that you're listening. I don't know if you went to Long Beach and saw the Queen Mary , although I hope you did, and while I think I understand your situation I also know I may be wrong. But I do know Monsterpalooza is soon, so I thought of three things: Yeah, I'd have a word with James Marsters behind the scenes, and take Aqaba . Then my subconscious decided to have its say, and this scene from The Martian popped into my head . Mark Watney's talking to a class after he escaped the virtual certainty of death on Mars, and that's what he says. That at some point, everything's going to go south and you're going to say: this is it. This is how I end . Now you can either accept that, or you can get to work. That's all it is. You just begin. You do the math. You solv...

Dear Juliet I just have to step out and save the Universe, or rather tend to a few old folk in Shifnal, but I'll come back and write to you tonight. Had a thought. Hope you're okay. Love, James