Wednesday, March 26, 2003
I awoke this morning to find that the fever had finally deserted me in the night. I'm still a bit weak, but I seem to be making a quick recovery. Some errant virus, which I most likely picked up this weekend when I went to see Dreamcatcher. One reason I dislike crowds. I've been a terrible hypochondriac since I was a small child. But hypochondria is such an utterly sensible phobia, I've always maintained, unlike, say, claustrophobia or agoraphobia.One's irrationalities should always be as rational as possible. I've discovered a hundred ways to make use of public restrooms without ever actually touching, with my hands, any surface that any part of another human might have touched. But I'm rambling on dreadfully. At any rate, I feel much, much better.
As is almost always the case, I enjoyed the illness at the expense of my workload. Writers don't get sick days (and few of us have health insurance). Monday I was to have written the proposal for Murder of Angels, 28 sentences or so to sum up the unconceived novel, so that I can send it off the Penguin. Tuesday I was to have gone back to work proper, beginning Chapter 4. Now I'm at least 48 hours behind. If my strength holds, perhaps I can get to the proposal today. Maybe late this afternoon, maybe tonight.
Here it is Wednesday, and I should be reminding you to watch Farscape this Friday night, but there will be no Farscape this Friday night. There will be a two-hour premiere of Tremors: The Series, but I'd rather have a pelvic exam with a rusty speculum, myself. Farscape will survive this indignity, because art survives, and worthy stories survive, and it's both of those things.
I haven't yet said anything about How Loathsome, have I? Well, then it's high time that I did. A new comic from NBM by Ted Naifeh (Courtney Crumrin) and Tristan Crane. It's the best new comic I've come across in ages. I shit you not. If you like my stuff, I think there's a very good chance you'll dig How Loathsome (no, I did not just use "dig" idiomatically; you're hallucinating). In fact, you can get a sneak peak at HowLoathsome.Com. Check it out.
Oh. I've also neglected to express my dismay and disgust at Eminem winning an Oscar. Oversights abound. I was speechless that such a hateful, trashy, talentless little shit would be so honored. Clearly, the majority of the members of the Academy felt otherwise. More's the pity.
Okay. I gotta work. Thanks to everyone who sent me the get-well e-mails. And special thanks to the one person who sent the "die-of-this-affliction-you-mouthy-bitch" e-mail. I think that's what pulled me through.
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