Three Things:

Something ironic that happened today:

As I was standing at the bus stop on my way to work this morning, plugged in as always when I am out and about and alone to my Ipod, a nicely dressed woman approached me with a small attache open in her hands and asked me if I was looking for something to read on the bus. I politely declined and she didn't press; but a glance down to what she had in her case revealed that it was a publication on the part of the Jehovah's Witnesses. Now, I'm not categorically offended by this in any fashion and I wish her the best at what fulfills her... but through my headphones at that very moment Damien, by Iced Earth, was blasting. "So here who comprehends, that the number of the beast is a number of a man, a number just for me!"

Something sad that happened today (maybe):

Walking back from my lunch break in the middle of the day, I approached a dark blot on the sidewalk that was shifting around in that way that only birds do. It turned out, once I got about a foot away from it, to be a crow laying there on the pavement... I couldn't see where he was hurt, but he was obviously not well. I pulled my scarf out of my bag intending to scoop him up and take him inside where I could call around to find an animal rescue agency that would take him in, but startled him enough that he did manage to get up and fly across the street to a nearby rooftop where he lay with his wings slightly extended from his body. I went back in to work, but could see him from the door, and he was there quite some time. Then, when I went to look, he was gone and wasn't on the sidewalk below so I assume (hope) that maybe he was just stunned and came out of it.

And my novel:

Things are beginning to come together. Wordcount wise, I'm a little (but not unrecoverably) behind. However, I'm getting to the point now where details that I feel like I'm pitching in aimlessly are starting to add up and connect in meaningful ways. That means that, somewhere out there in the ether, my characters are coming to life and doing things of their own accord, and I've just to turn my lens their direction and observe.

IT'S ALIIIVE!

Holy crap!

Kamelot? PWNS MY FACE.

Go listen to them.

Damn.

The Chant of the Sibyl

My flat was empty. I was the only thing that breathed within it, and the air was cold for the open windows and lifeless space. I had sat down on the floor in the middle of my living room, pushed all the furniture out to the pictureless walls. In my mind, I pushed all the furnishings of my life out to the horizons of my consciousness, trying to focus. When I was younger, I couldn't control the things I saw beyond the vision normally granted to humans. It was the one secret I had always kept from my councilors, regardless as to how much or how little I trusted them. There was no frame of reference for how they might take something like that, and I'd grown up with the consciousness of how tenuous my situation at large always was.
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I have now lost all pretense of writing this story in order.

Wordcount as of November 9: 13,082