May 2nd, 2005


a stranger in my own land

Well, as an attempt at a day off, yesterday was a bit of a wash-out, but there's no point going there. The only point I can see at this point is to get back to work immediately. I don't do downtime very well at all, as I only fill it up with frets and anger and regret and so on and on and on.

Writing is the noise that clears my head. That's a bald-faced lie, but it's one that I can live with.

The weather isn't helping. I thought this lower 70s-high 60s faux spring would pass, but it's going to hang on for at least another week. I need 80s, at least. I need warm nights. I need to move to frelling Central America...

What I don't need is to move back to Birmingham. It comes up, especially when I'm visiting my mother. There are a small number of good arguments in favour of Birmingham, though the only one that really matters is the fact that Atlanta's an obscenely expensive place to live. When you and your partner's entire income depends upon your freelance fiction writing, that means a constant rumble of money-related stress and uncertainty. So, it comes up. And I have to point out to my mother that she lives in one of the most intolerant, homophobic, theocractical states in the Union. Hell, it's not that Georgia's that much better, as a state, but Georgia has Atlanta, an unsteady enclave against the rednecks and fundamentalists. An expensive, unsteady enclave. Accepting that it costs too much to live in Atlanta is like paying the mafia protection money, I think. Sure, it's not fair, but at least Spooky and I can walk the streets of Little Five Points, Candler Park, Inman Park, Poncey-Highlands, etc. — hell, even downtown — without fear of being openly persecuted and harassed for being who and what we are. Move back to Alabama? Well, sure, there's some nice rocks and fossils, and the cost of living is low, but I could say the same about any number of third-world countries, countries which do not, by the way, have frelling ultra-right asshole Judge Roy Moore poised to run for governor.

Of course, someone will now say, "You should move to X or Y or Z," and I appreciate the effort, but a) X and Y and Z are probably even more expensive, and b) if they're not then c) they're too damned cold or d) too dreary or e) even more conservative than the southern US or f) too arid (I'm rather attached to greenery). Round and round and round.

"It's the weather," she said. "I wouldn't be talking about this right now if only the weather were a little warmer. That cold breeze, it undermines my resolve."

How about let's change the subject?

Thank you, aRvin, for the new NIN. I finally had time to listen yesterday. This album was definitely worth the wait. And I finished Jade Empire last night about 1:30 a.m. Superb frelling game. Most highly recommended, but I shall not now say more as I've promised to write a review.

I'm tempted to go hide out at Emory today and start drawing and COLOURING little monster doodles for ebay auctions. I'm sorely tempted to do that. Instead, I expect I'll send the ms. for Frog Toes and Tentacles off to Subterranean Press and begin trying to construct an outline for Daughter of Hounds. That way, maybe tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, I can sit down and get back to work on the novel, which is all that really matters. Write the book. Write the book. Just shut up and write the goddamn book.
  • Current Music
    NIN, "Sunspots"

more (sigh)

Because I never tire of drawing attention to the deficiencies of the South, and, in particular, Alabama, and because Darren reminded me of this today, I give you "Alabama Bill Targets Gay Authors". Which really isn't half as much fun as it sounds. But the good news is (I'm saving you having to read the whole frelling article to find this out), "Editor's Note: When the time for the vote in the legislature came there were not enough state legislators present for the vote, so the measure died automatically." Frankly, the honourable Gerald Allen can kiss my grey gay eema...
  • Current Music
    NIN, "Getting Smaller"