Speak of the Devil

Not Mugabe [1 post below], Saint Sebastian [5 posts below].

Today was one of those serendipitous days.

After spending three delightful hours having coffee with Krista for the first time--the first person I've met in person through blogging (other blog friends I've made in the past never lived in town)--I got on the wrong bus and ended up getting off by Wilde Roast. (As in Oscar Wilde.)

Walking past, I saw the saint hanging on the wall, so I had to go in and at least check my e-mail in his presence. While I was sitting there, in walked Jim S., someone I see once in a blue moon but am always happy to see. He told me a publisher has accepted his book for publication. I also picked up a flier and learned that Dale is giving a reading in April. All three of these non-saints are writers, which tugs at the edges of my somnolent ambitions.
(The other day, Sal told me she's working on a book proposal too.)

Krista asked me if I was thinking of a book project myself. I said, no, no, no; and then immediately came up with a name for my nonexistent project: Queering Star Trek. I certainly have a cover image for it.