Not much to say about yesterday. No writing and no non-writing writing work. I did some housecleaning. I watched seven straight hours of Farscape.
Thanks to all the smoke at the Dresden Dolls show on Saturday night, my cough has returned full force. I knew that it would and went anyway, full in that knowledge. To a degree, it's my own silly fault. But I do very much wish for the day when Atlanta bans public smoking. I fully support the legalization of most all drugs and use a number of them myself. I'm really not being a hypocrite. What if you bumped into me at a show or a restaurant or a bar, and you had to get a big dose of some benzodiazepene or another, just because it's a drug that I use? What if you had to drink absinthe every time you were near me? I mean, some people hate the taste of anise. I quit smoking many years ago and, while I'd support anyone's right to use nicotine, I don't think I should have to start again anytime I want to go to a show.
So, I'm on Benadryl again.
I have an idea for releasing the prologue of Daughter of Hounds as a chapbook prior to the release of the novel, and I'm going to talk to Bill Schafer about it today. Normally, I wouldn't consider such a thing, but a) the novel probably won't be released until January 2006, and b) this prologue is going to be about ten-thousand words long and feel more like a short story than my prologues usually do. Do you like this idea? LJ people say so if you do (or if you don't). My thought is that it would whet people's appetites and give them something to tide them over, given that the release date is so far off.
As for today, I have to sign the signature sheets for "Mercury," and I have to begin the third section of the prologue. That sounds like more than enough to keep me busy. Toss in a few e-mails I must attend to, and it becomes a very full day.
I had a rather disquieting dream last night. It's not the usual sort I bother to write down. I can see where it came from, more or less. Just toss The Haunting of Hill House, House of Leaves, "Hotel California," and the Heaven's Gate Cult into a blender (those repeating H's are interesting) and, voila, you'd have this dream. I accompanied a group of people (in the dream I knew who they were and why I was with them, but I lost that knowledge upon waking) to a vast house. Almost from the beginning, I understood the house was a sentient and, perhaps, malign thing. These people served it somehow, though exactly how remains unclear to me. It needed them, and they adored it unconditionally. They were uncomfortable with my being there. I felt alienated, alone, and when the house suddenly began to show interest in me, even favour towards me, I felt elation and peace, even though I knew that the house was a Bad Thing. The others became jealous and spiteful. At one point, we entered a room where a large number of cots had been set up. They were arranged rather haphazardly about the room. They were unmade, and the bedclothes were stained with blood. It was explained to me that this is where a group of people loyal to the house had last slept. There was no sign of bodies, just the blood. When I awoke, I actually had a terrible sense of loss, that my mental and spiritual connection to the house had been severed. The sun was coming up, and as I lay there, running the dream over and over in my head, trying not to forget it, that sensation of loss faded to a general strangeness that still hasn't left me. There was no lucidity involved.
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Now, I fear it's time to begin this day.