Fever

Thirty hours of fever have come and nearly gone. They made me feel like a little kid. Sweaty and bed-ridden. And not clear-headed enough to use the time usefully, though I did manage to get through Daniel Cloewes' "comic-strip novel" Ice Haven this afternoon. I'd forgotten what a night of fever was like: haunted by persistent, muddled scenarios that can't be pushed from the noggin. So I was sent back to Pannahill, where I grew up and where I had most of my fevers, as well as measles, the mumps, and tonsilitis. My mom used to bring me a big metal cup of apple juice, which was the most refreshing thing on earth.

One event I missed because I was sick was the Mercury Press launch of Sharon Harris's Avatar and Jay MillAr and Stephen Cain's Double Helix, as part of the stupid This Is Not a Reading Series, at the Gladstone Hotel. Stephen was sitting this event out, so the evening consisted of Sharon and Jay. And Sharon's book. Incredibly, Jay's book was not ready for the launch, and he only found out when he got to the venue. Nice surprise. You'd think maybe someone might have let him know. Rumour has it that the Mercs themselves didn't show up either.

Now, I do remember a BookThug launch with a book not yet back from the printer. And I remember a launch of one of my own books where the printer desperately shipped 22 hand-bound copies to the launch after a series of screw-ups.

Jay's talk is up at jaymillar.blogspot.com. It's a great read, and pretty 'pataphysical, though he's gotta do something about that "to all intensive purposes" thing.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to reading both Stephen/Jay's book and Sharon's.

Over and out.