(This did not happen. Wyoming has no marshmallow trees, as they only thrive in the Pacific Northwest.)

1. First, fiction news! My short story “The Zeppelin Conductors’ Society Annual Gentlemen’s Ball” is up at Lightspeed Magazine!

2. I saw Inception opening weekend. I had to wait until I was in New York to do it – I dropped my suitcase at my apartment and went straight from there to the theatre – but I saw it. I will be writing more (a lot more) about this movie later, but for now, my SPOILERY review is up at Tor.com. SPOILERS. It says so in the cut-tag, but I’m direct-linking, so SPOILERS. SO MANY SPOILERS. THE TITANIC SINKS. DARTH IS LUKE’S DAD. SO MANY SPOILERS.

3. Launchpad was great. I wrote up an intro post here, with some handy links, and followed it up with Four Fun Things About the Universe, for values of “fun” that include the knowledge that if you get close to a black hole you’ll be torn to shreds by gravity. Whee!

Tomorrow I should be caught up and ready to blog again. I hope. (I might just go home and sleep 12 hours. It’s reverse altitude sickness!)

* I am on Dreamwidth. (Same name.) I have no plans to move, but maybe to mirror, but who knows since my name on that header’s so freaking big I might as well just leave it empty and call it performance art.

* Eventually I have to stop pretending I’m fumbling around and just admit I Twitter. I’m sure my mom is proud of me.

* And she should be proud, because the Sybil’s Garage TOC that includes me has a lineup of awesome names, the most awesome of which is Enkidu, history’s most unintentionally hilarious name.

- Michael Fassbender. You inexplicably turn me all caps, big guy. Can’t wait to see you in your disastrous Wuthering Heights next year.

- Star Fleet wallets. I am the bird! (God, did I ever leave the house as an adolescent? Don’t answer that.)

- Family and friends. Dear Mom, I love you so much. Sorry I’m not changing my name. Apologize to Grandma for me.

- Fassbender, my portable computer. It allows me to be rude in public whenever I want.

- My TV. It took away the dialogue track for this week’s Eleventh Hour. It was amazing. Graeme Revell, one of my favorite composers, gave me a little concert, and I got to see the worst arch-enemy arc in recent memory. See for yourself at Tor.com!

ETA: And I never have to watch another episode of Dollhouse now that I turned in my opinion piece to Fantasy, which makes this day practically Thanksgiving!

…of which I have none. What I mean is, I tried to clean up my apartment yesterday and got totally flabbergasted, because while there’s plenty of room for the mess, there’s absolutely no space for me to get oranized.

This always makes me think of the one episode of Mission: Organization that ever impressed me, where some poor woman’s jail cell of a studio apartment got remade into an actual living space. It’s still small, and this sort of renovation only works on people who don’t own a lot of books, but I still think about it whenever I look at my living room and think, “This is a cesspool – be like that studio apartment, stupid living room!”

The Before: there’s more information about this on the website, which includes Puritan-level scathing condemnation of her slightly-cluttered chair. Seriously, they put “There’s actually a chair underneath all that stuff!” on the ACTUAL WEBSITE. There’s two books, two messenger bags, and a paper shopping bag on that chair. I should show HGTV the horrors of the chair in my living room that I call “Closet 2″.

Anyway, while the clutter factor is debatable, there’s no question this is a really bland apartment that needed help:

And boy, did it ever get help.

So the dude (who now runs Apartment Therapy) came in and whipped her apartment into shape, and seriously, it looked like it had twice the room:

And it looked that way because of the awesomelarious use of her front wall as the world’s tallest, most random bookshelf:

I can’t help but love it, even though any apartment that requires you to haul out the ladder every time you want to read one of your favorite books is already too labor-intensive for lazy-ass yours truly. Plus, my TV would take up the entire desk on the right, and the storage cubes would be the world’s most uncomfortable chairs.

So basically, this apartment does not work for me in a practical sense. However, it certainly made an impression on me (I mean sure, the wall makes no sense, but it’s a BRIGHT ORANGE SHELFWALL – hell yes!), because it was the first time I could conceive of living in a space that small.

I think about this apartment every time I look at Tumbleweed Houses, which might as well be called “Places That Freak Genevieve Out, Even As She Knows She Will Be Living in One in Twenty Years When The Sea Levels Rise And We Must All Run For Our Lives In Our Teeny Trailer Homes to Escape the Sea Monsters.” Only it’s not called that, because no one would ever type in that entire URL.

Of these, the ones that seem the easiest to live in without constant panic attacks are The Epu and the WeeBee, which at least both have light.

You know what they don’t have? Room for more than twenty books. Talk about panic attacks.

(Or, you know, Jay Walker’s amazing personal library, for which he constructed an entire house and pipes in a custom soundtrack to set just the right mood for looking at “a 1665 Bills of Mortality chronicle of London (you can track plague fatalities by week)”. via Wired.

And as long as you’re dreaming of impossible things, enjoy their gallery of spaceship conceptual art, of which my favorite is this bad boy.