Sunday herp da teetley derpee derp

September. The air has gained that little bite that heralds seven months of wet and partly snowy misery. My brother once said "I get that we migrated up here after the last ice age, but I don't think we were meant to actually stay." At least I moved south a little, which shortens the longjohn-season by a month. And it's not Norilsk, or Outer Mongolia. I'm aware that I have about as much to complain about as one of those 19th century fops who languished in despondent luxury in their butler-attended mansions. Still, not looking forward to commuting by bike in horizontal sleet. It's also going to be a very exciting autumn. The Gothenburg Book Fair at the end of this month at which Amatka will be released, then Kontrast 2012 in Uppsala at the beginning of October, and then to World Fantasy Con in Toronto for the release of Jagannath. Travel tickets and hotel rooms are booked, I've scraped together the nicest writer wardrobe the thrift shops have to offer, and have polished my thick-rimmed "screw you, I'm a writer" spectacles.

Finished The Night Circus, which for some reason took a very long time, and loved the atmosphere although I had trouble connecting with the characters except for Bailey. I think it's the omniscient third person perspective that puts too much distance between myself and the characters - I know too much and too little about them at the same time. It's one of the reasons I avoid writing in omniscient third myself.

And finally watched Fincher's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Not Fincher's fault, but what a ridiculous and tame translation. The original Swedish title is Men Who Hate Women, which is what Larsson's book is really about. Not to mention calling an adult woman a girl. Sweden in the film was an interesting fictional hyper-Swedish idea of Sweden where you're apparently allowed to smoke in bars, and the non-Swedish actors talked like Björk. I don't know. It's always interesting to see your own nation from someone else's perspective though.

Bonus Q&A: No, Gertrude the rubber tyrannosaur doesn't really eat stray grammar. I just don't like to write without company, but most human company talks too much.