Thursday, January 02, 2003
The sun just came out, after two days of rain. It's a welcomed sight.
So, here I am trying to get my brain back into the work place. The writing place, filled with words and stories and people I haven't thought of yet. I have to lodge myself there and refuse to budge. It's time to get back to that monotonous, but reassuring, one thousand word a day routine that took me through Low Red Moon so very swiftly. It's at least a month past time.
Time to use this journal for that thing for which it was created — guilting me into writing every day, to avoid public embarrassment. Potential humiliation is a powerful tool and should never be neglected for some finer method of achieving an end.
I understand that Bast: Eternity Game will be in stores very soon, perhaps tomorrow. I hear it looks good. I ought to know by now, should have seen a copy for myself. But my comp box from DC was apparently mailed to the old address in Birmingham, not the new address in Atlanta, and is now lost somewhere in transit. The last time that happened was with my first issue of The Dreaming, #17, in 1997, when I moved from Athens to Birmingham. Anyway, Jennifer's trying to track down the missing parcel. Please drop by your local comic shop and pick up a copy. It'd be nice to see Bast sell well. There's talk of me doing another Bast mini.
Last night we saw Gangs of New York, which I thought was a brilliant and breathtakingly beautiful film and recommend to all; afterwards, we had dinner at The Vortex. A good evening out, which I have far too few off these days.
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