Friday, March 26, 2004
I found out yesterday that one of my favorite restaurants in Atlanta, Huey's, has hired new chef and, instead of their old New Orleanscentric menu, is now serving "New Southern cuisine," whatever the frell that's supposed to be (Poppy would know, of course, but I'm not one-third the gourmand she is). They've jacked up the prices and all that remains of the original menu are the beignets (the best this side of Cafe Du Monde). Now there's nowhere in Atlanta to get a decent bowl of gumbo. And Huey's gumbo wasn't merely decent — it was superb. Sometimes, the best food is the least fussed over, the least precious, or precocious, and I wish more people were dedicated to leaving well enough alone. I suppose I can't fault the owner of Huey's for having ambition, but I also can't help being annoyed at losing such good, simple food to his bid to become part of the gaggle of trendy Peachtree Street "eateries."
Yes, I just wrote a eulogy to gumbo. I will try to refrain from such slips in the future.
Yesterday, I did six pages on the screenplay, and hope to do another seven or eight today. I very much appreciate this opportunity to step away from the demands of prose and concentrate solely on creating cinematic images (that's a big part of my prose, but here it's stripped down to the barest bones) and engaging dialogue. And this whole thing has started to remind me of the months I spent writing The Five of Cups, the way that I wouldn't allow myself to imagine the book actually being published for fear of locking up and not being able to complete it. I truly can't believe that Alabaster will one day be a film, and, for now, it's just this thing I'm writing and I have to let that be enough, lest I freak out and walk away from the whole project.
There are a bunch of e-mails that I haven't had time to answer, so a few quick thank-you's are in order: Sandrah Merritt, for getting me into the Coos Bay Public Library, giving me a "place of honor" on her bookshelf, and sending me a photo of said bookshelf; Chris Allen, for loving "Postcards from the King of Tides" and taking the time to let me know; Amber Morris, for telling me that Low Red Moon made her cry (what more could I ever ask for?); and Loup-Garou, for fixing my atrocious French.
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