Wednesday, February 25, 2004
It's becoming increasingly difficult to use this blog to write about writing. Every entry wants to mount a tirade against George Bush's escalating circus of hate and persecution. His address yesterday, I don't think I've ever felt so strongly that the government, with which I have very often been at odds, has actually taken off its mask of civility and mounted a war against me, against who I am, against those I love, against the fact that I love those I love. It's as though the long nightmare of this Administration is building towards some absurdist fever pitch. I can only pray that history will remember that speech as what it was, and will file it in the same black box with George Wallace's resistance of desegregation and Adolf Hitler's attacks upon the Jews.
My little ghost stories seem of no importance whatsoever, in the face of such genuine evils.
But I did work on "Rappaccini's Dragon" yesterday. I read through the first three thousand words three times and made a lot of changes. Today, I'll get it moving again. Yesterday was a telephone sort of day, Shelly Bond at Vertigo Comics, and Ted Naifeh, and other people, and telephone days -- which are uncommon, as I generally leave the phone to either Spooky or Jennifer -- are never good for actual writing. Today I will endeavor not to go near the telephone. Last night, I finished Chapter 2 of The Girl Who Sold the World for Nebari.Net, which I will try to get up tonight. I think I might have actually had fan-fic writer's block, which is just way too stupid as I'm only writing this for me. If only I were easier to please. Which is to say, Chapter 2 was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I'll also be uploading Leh'agvoi's latest Nar'eth pin-up, and he says that the next installation of his manga should be along soon.
Oh. I'm been feeling as though the meteorological cataclyms in The Dry Salvages might have been going a little too far. Then I stumbled upon this article on Fortune.com yesterday and see that I probably haven't gone far enough. Even that asshole Rumsfeld is starting to worry about how high the water's gonna get and which way the wind's gonna blow when the North Atlantic thermohaline circulation finally goes belly up. And we all know what a calm head he has on his shoulders...