DS: How did we manage all those years without an electric kettle?

EK: Microwave. And before that, primitive technology. Involving fire.

"I know you're outer-directed, honey, but get a grip," says Delia. "Now, I have a house to clean."

Thus, this morning, as I obsessed (again) over what I would read next Tuesday at our big 20th Anniversary NYRSF Reading at South Street Seaport (hosted by old friend Claire Wolf Smith, whose LJ Identity I will leave to her to reveal in these pages as she chooses). Should I do the joint reading of The Man with the Knives, with Delia reading Sophia's p.o.v. sections, and me doing Alec's interior monologues? We read through it on Sunday, and it's awfully dense language & text (plus, her part is longer than mine! And I get all the difficult poetryish bits). I haven't even sold it yet (it's out right now with an Exclusive anthology), so it won't be appearing for months, if not years. Is this a horrible tease? Or a Rare Treat? If I promise to do an unpublished Riverside story, but I chicken out at the last minute, will you be content with "The Duke of Riverside" instead (sold to Ellen Datlow's CITIES for 2010), even if I can't read the whole thing 'cause it's too long? (Or can I take 45 minutes to read 1 story?) Or would you rather hear something you've already read? I think that it was ca. 20 yrs ago (agh!!) that I first read "The Swordsman whose Name was Not Death" at NYRSF - Jim Freund says he still has the tape - would it be fun to hear that now?

My divine chiropractor, George Russell, says Go For It - he is an astute reader with a prodigious memory who, as he worked the knots out of my legs, suggested various scenes from TPOTS which, in fact, are the very ones I usually read aloud to audiences (he also remarked, "I think Marcus is transexual" - well, whatever that term is for someone who's not committed either way). I adore George. If you're a writer in NYC whose body hurts (Don't all jump up & down at once!), call him. And/or try this Ergociser program maryrobinette tweeted me about.

Ellen (after watching unbelievably dumb trailer during John Stewart that turns out to be for a movie of childhood action toy "G.I. Joe"): God. They'll make a movie outta f*ckin' anything. (beat) Why won't they do our books?

Delia: I dunno. Because nothing explodes in them?

(Delia sings annoying tune & does a little dance while waiting for me to put my shoes on so we can go out for our after-dinner walk in the park.)

Ellen: Why are you doing that?

Delia: Because I feel like it. (beat) The same reason anyone does anything in this house.