Sunday, March 16, 2003
Sunday. Just in case you weren't sure.
The last couple of days have been rainy and cooler. Not cold, by any stretch, really, but cool enough to be annoying after last week's gorgeous weather. Things continue getting greener, though. The salvation of spring.
Today I'll try to finish up the afterword for the Subterranean Press edition of Low Red Moon. I've spent a good bit of the weekend trying to decide which direction it should take. As I think I've said already, I want it to be something more than my usual this-is-how-I-wrote-this essay. I'm going to focus primarily on the interconnectedness of various of my stories and novels, and on my preference for focusing on "real-world" locales rather than inventing my own. Or something like that. I'll start typing and it will happen. That's how it goes. Plans are for architects and politicians, not writers.
It's not too late to read "La Mer des Reves" on Gothic.Net. Don't be put off by the French title. The story is quite indifferent to foreign affairs.
Speaking of which, while hundreds of thousands gathered worldwide yesterday to protest a US-led war with Iraq, Atlanta was the scene of a somewhat more modest protest in favour of "our troops and our President." I watched accounts of the rally on CNN. I fully support the right of any American to hold any opinion on these matters, Patriot 2 or no, but I was . . . amused, let's say . . . to see some pudgy redneck fellow with a poster that read "Give WAR A Chance." I wonder who told him how to spell "war"?
Another demonstrator had a toy poodle sprayed red, white, and blue, and a placard proclaiming, "There's no FRENCH in our poodle." Damn, I wish I were possessed of such a keen wit. Alas . . .
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