As for writing yesterday, I did relevant reading, which is almost work. It's dren that has to be done, regardless. There may be more of that today. It has become necessary before I can proceed with Chapter Three. Sorting out Dogtown, adding to and subtracting from the myths surrounding the ghost town. Fictionalizing. Weaving unrealized reality. Finding how all this relates to the "yellow house" on Benefit Street and Emmie and the ghouls and the Bailiff. It all fits. It's just a matter of understanding how.
Also, it has been confirmed that I will be a guest at the 2005 World Horror Convention in NYC (April 7-10). Note that I have only agreed to take part in programming on the 8th and 9th, Friday and Saturday, from noon until midnight. I hope that some of you will be able to make the convention so I can put faces with screen names. I'll do a short reading and a signing, as well as panels. Also, I might try to schedule an off-site signing somewhere in Manhattan, but my time will be very tight, so that's very iffy.
I also did a lot of stuff that needed doing around the house, things I've been putting off too long. Last night, we read Skin, watched X-Play, and I started playing Psi-Ops, which has the potential to be a good game.
My thanks to iliadawry for pointing me to The Dionaea House: Correspondence from Mark Condry, which ate up a couple of hours of mine and Spooky's time last night. It's not bad, but draws a little too obviously from House of Leaves and is a little too direct and rushed. This thing might have been brilliant had it been drawn out over the course of a year. Ultimately, it's more interesting as a new direction for fiction, but you might want to have a look. There are a few chilling moments (and hey, it's free).
The comments to my first post yesterday put me in mind (as I was saying) of a long night in New York City with Jennifer, Voltaire, and Lisa Feuer. Must of been back on May 2001, just before I wrote "Onion." After some Ukranian coffeehouse, we wound up at the Milk Bar, and by three a.m. or so, despite my drunkeness, I'd come to understand that Voltaire knows more words for the male member than anyone else alive. The evening is a blur of liquor and penis slang. I remember a comment about "riding the baloney pony" got me laughing so hard I almost puked. By this point, the bartender was bringing us free drinks, just so Voltaire would keep it up (so to...uh...speak).
I think this coming purge, Purge II, will include a lot of CDs, along with the books and action figures. I keep pulling CDs off the shelf and asking myself, "Why the frell do I still have that?
This whole silly thing about Paris Hilton's hacked Sidekick has only served to confirm my belief that if Britney Spears, Anna Nicole, and Christina Aguilera should happen to die tomorrow in a head-on collision with a UPS delivery truck, Ms. Hilton would indeed be the trashiest human left alive. Ugh.