Thursday, December 04, 2003
Yesterday, I wrote only 776 words on the still "Untitled Novella." One of those days when the words all hung back in the shadows, stubborn and reluctant coconspirators.
I believe that I have heard the most brilliant CD of 2003, The Dresden Dolls' self-titled debut (8ft. Records). I'm not going to weigh it down with an "if you like X, you like The Dresden Dolls" comparison, or say it's "like X meets Y, with a dash of Z for spice," because I loathe it when people do that to my work. Trust me. It is delightful and you should find it at once! If you can't get a copy at a local indie shop, order from Middle Pillar Records, now, before the Xmas rush depleats the stock. Spooky also got a copy of the new Clan of Xymox yesterday, but we've not had time to listen to it.
The following from Franklin Harris, in response to my question yesterday, regarding the Office of Homeland Security and the Patriot Act:
Well, the goal of terrorism is to disrupt the normal day-to-day functioning of a society with the end of influencing that society's government (or so says Caleb Carr, anyway). Since the OHS is the government, it must have another, non-terroristic but equally nefarious motivation.
Franklin knows more about these things than I. I've learned that. And Caleb Carr just rocks. So, I defer. But the fact remains, that the Office of Homeland Security, if not a terrorist organization sensu stricto, is instilling terror in many innocent Americans of many ethnicities. Summation: If 9/11 was a test of freedom and democracy, and if America is truly a country ruled by a government that if by and for the people, we are failing by our own hand.
I am so not awake. Spooky and I were up until almost 4 a.m. playing Primal, and then I awoke from nightmares at a little after 9:00 and was unable to get back to sleep. Here in Atlanta, the themometer is hovering just above freezing, the sky is so gray it's almost purple, and it's raining and threatening sleet. The cryosphere is in full swing and this place is impossible to heat. My office is a deep freeze. No, really. You could store meat in here. Entire herds of Woolly Mammoths could be preserved between my crowded bookshelves. And I've begun the I-only-have-to-hang-on-until-March thing again.
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