My mojo. Let me show you it.

[desperance]

Well, of course I couldn't find my mojo; it wasn't here. It was - naturally! - just exactly where I had left it: in the Silence Room of the Lit & Phil.

In a swift rearrangement of my day, I took a flask of coffee and the LHP in there, and lo. Two pages later, this story is yielding up its marrow at last. I don't think it's any good, but that's okay; I'm allowed to write crap, so long as I'm writing.

Now I am home, though, and my thumb is hurting. I am going to swallow chemicals and a ham sammich (well, a smoked-loin-of-pork sammich, which I boiled it this morning; boiling I can manage, and frying too; chopping, not so much), and read Agatha Christie on old-style archaeology (it's research! it leads to steam-camels!!), and then watch wuxia pian because I can, because la_marquise_de enables me. (My enabler. Let me show you her.)

Comments

[desperance.livejournal.com]

"Come, Tell Me How You Live: an archaeological memoir", as by Agatha Christie Mallowan. Still in print: the Lit & Phil seems to have bought a new copy just for me. They are good people.

[green-knight.livejournal.com]

Thanks a lot. I have to conduct an archaeological expedition in Faerie without modern technologies. It's fantastic fun, but very strange at the same time.

And I always need details about older expeditions I can tweak. This is alternate history, so Troy is still there - only it was dug up in the 1920s by a Spaniard...

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Oh, excellent! And you may well find this useful: I think it's mostly about the digs Max Mallowan was involved with in the '30s - Ur, and so forth - rather than his later exploration of Nimrud.