Last night, we watched George Clooney's Confessions of a Dangerous Mind on IFC, which was weird and wonderful. Now, I'm having nasty Gong Show flashbacks. I also read "Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor" from Tolkien's The Silmarillion.
Today, I have to sign signature sheets for a Cemetery Dance anthology called Mondo Zombie. Oh, if I had the time to recount the bizarre history of this book and my part in it. I wrote about it, briefly, in From Weird and Distant Shores. In the winter of 1993, I was contacted by John Skipp to write a zombie story based on the Romero films. At the time, I'd published not a thing, but several authors of note had read my work, and someone suggested Skipp contact me. I think I wrote the story in February or March '94 (I don't feel like looking up the specifics) and handed it into Skipp. Originally, the anthology was to have been Book of the Dead 4, to have been released by Bantam. And now, twelve long years after I was first involved in the project, after innumerable twists and unmentionable drama and no end of publishers backing out, etc. & etc., Cemetery Dance is releasing the book as Mondo Zombie, and today I have to sign the frelling signature sheets for a story I wrote in early 1994. The story is "Two Worlds, and In Between," of course. It was published in Steve Jones' Keep Out the Night way back in 1997, after I gave up on Skipp's BotD4 ever seeing print. Then it was reprinted in From Weird and Distant Shores in 2002. There was even a Canadian filmmaker, someone indie, who wanted to make a film based on the story, but wouldn't pony up any money for the option. This story and I, we have a history sort of thing. Today, I sign the signature sheets. Frelling bizarre.
I had a Nebari dream last night (or this morning), the first in a long time. I think it was triggered, in part, by the story I'm working on, and in part by other things. I was Nar'eth, stuck on a very small ship, deep in space. There was no gravity. Life support was failing. Those red emergency lights you always see in submarine movies had come on, and they flashed. I wasn't alone on the ship, and there was panic and shouting and cursing. I kept thinking about shooting myself, and somehow wound up in a crawlspace, trying to repair a radio transmitter. It was not a pleasant dream, but I suppose that much is obvious.
And speaking of Farscape — which I just realized I hardly ever do these days —