Outside, it's 31F, but feels like 21F when the windchill's factored in. And there appears to be an ice storm on the way. Which means we shall be without power for some extended period of time. No heat. No stove. No iBook. No Xbox or PS2. No hot water. No lights. Okay, well, I can live without the lights. Candles are fine, but no Xbox? I hate being a soft, spoiled brat of the Modern Electrikal Age. And, because this is the South, an ice storm is pretty much Armageddon. There will be rioting in the streets over the last loaf of bread and the last gallon of milk. Home Depot will be awash in idiots looking for gasoline-powered generators. Yuppies will eat homeless people on Carr's Table Water crackers. Even now, the mammoths are returning to my office. They say they only made it as far north as Virginia.

"At least the ears and the dress match, bitch." Spooky just said that to me. I'll kiss anyone who can tell me what the frell she was talking about. Yes, on the mouth.

Well, let me get this down before the glaciers arrive.

Yesterday was spent at Emory, reading stories for To Charles Fort, With Love. I only made it through four. That took a good five hours. Of course, one of them was "Onion," which, at 12,000+ words is a chore unto itself. I also read "So Runs the World Away," "Apokatastasis," and "Standing Water." So, I still have six stories to go. I have abandoned plans for an index. There's just not time. But reading through all these stories is proving to be an interesting and revealing experience, almost like notes to myself that I knew I'd need farther along. My past-present unconscious playing tag with my future-present consciousness. And I clearly have a thing for girls with silver eyes. I'll not be making it back to Emory today. If any work is done, it'll have to be done in my office.

I have to find a cover artist for the Subterranean Press edition of Daughter of Hounds. And please let me know what you think about afterwords for the stories in To Charles Fort, With Love. Click here for the poll.

Okay, I guess that's it for this morning. We have to go forth and bludgeon old ladies for the last can of beans. This ice thing may last a whole day, after all.