Tuesday, April 19, 2005
I have long been a city-dweller, and, as such, I forget the silence outside the cities. I forget the absence of that contsant background rumble and thum and murmur. I'm at my mother's house tonight, here in Alabama, fifteen or twenty miles east of Birmingham. And it is quiet. It is, to me, this person who grew up here but has long been a city dweller, profoundly, disconcertingly quiet. I'd welcome a siren right about now, or the idiot bleat of a car alarm.
I'll be here tomorrow. I might be back in Atlanta tomorrow night, though I may stay here until Thursday afternoon. We'll see. Late this week, there's a mountain of work to face, and phone meetings with my film agent and my editor at Marvel. I have to make a decision about what's to be done with Daughter of Hounds, whether I begin again at the start or what. I suspect that's one reason that I've come here, to try to figure this out. I feel like I have a lot of things, suddenly, to figure out. And I just heard Spooky sneeze. I'd say she's allergic to all the quiet, only I've stayed at her parents' place in Rhode Island, and it's even more ominously quiet than this house.
Okay. That's enough for now. I'm gonna try to go and try to figure out how to make some noise...
9:34 PM
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