I did not write yesterday. Instead, I stepped back and tried to see the source of my doubt regarding what I have written thus far on The Red Tree. In part, it's the absence of the prologue/ forward/ introduction/ editor's note thing I'd planned to write after we get to Rhode Island. That seems clear now, as that part of the book is the part that sets the stage for the reader, and, it would appear, the writer. So, I need to backtrack and try to write it now, though it may be tomorrow before I get that far, far enough to begin it.

Instead of writing, yesterday was almost all reading. Many more chapters of House of Leaves, plus a bit of Stephen King's Carrie (1974). Because I wanted to see how King handled the "book about the book embedded within the book" problem with his The Shadow Exploded: Documented Cases and Specific Conclusions Derived from the Case of Carietta White by David R. Congress. Spooky read aloud to me, as is usually the case, what with my left eye being blind and the right eye tiring so quickly. And I packed a few boxes of books. I stayed off Second Life until after midnight. I fear I am at long, long last losing patience with SL, but that's an entry unto itself.

We made a trip out to Videodrome, because I wanted to see Stephen Soderbergh's superb adaptation of Stanislaw Lem's Solaris (2002) again, mainly to try and pick up a little of the mood. It's such a perfect film. I need to add it to my Amazon.com wishlist, and seeing it again also reminded me I've been meaning to put together a list of my "Favourite SF Films Since 1980."

Yesterday felt like a "seizure day," and I kept waiting, but it never came. I do not know how to explain those rare instances when I feel as if they're coming. But I'm usually right. Maybe I ought to call it "seizure weather." Anyway, I'm very glad that I was wrong yesterday.