Howard Hughes goes west.

I'm pretty sure that I do not actually hate Alabama. It terms of physical geography and wilderness, it's a beautiful place. Fabulous geology and paleontology. For an area its size, Alabama has the greatest diversity of turtle species found anywhere on Earth. I think what I hate is all the goddamn Alabamians (the ones who aren't turtles). And Alabama culture, which, of course, is merely the primary and highly toxic waste product manufactured by all the goddamn Alabamians. Georgia's not much better. It's just that most of Atlanta exists in a weird dimension somewhat out-of-phase with Georgia proper. You can live here and pretend you're somewhere else. Some of us pretend we're in LA, and others of us pretend we're in San Francisco or Boston or Chicago. Being pretty much devoid of any identity of its own, Atlanta is ideal for this sort of thing. I think a few people have even managed to convince themselves Atlanta is Miami. Me, I just pretend it's not in Georgia. But, sadly, Alabama has no Atlanta equivalent. Anyway, regardless, I have to go to Alabama today. The trip has been delayed as long as I can possibly delay it. I have not been back there since April 2006. I'd hoped to go a full year this time between visits. Alas, that is not to be. It has become a Necessary Expedition. We may be back tonight. We may not be back until Friday evening. I cannot yet say.

stsisyphus has written some very cogent observations on "A Season of Broken Dolls," one of the two stories from this month's Sirenia Digest, which you may read at species_of_one (the cogent observations, not the story itself). It's quite useful when, as happens only very occasionally, a reader or reviewer writes something about one of my stories that teaches me something about what I've written. I have a feeling that's the way it's supposed to work, but hardly ever does.

Not much to yesterday worth writing down here. The end result of the Forced and New Consolidated marches was sent off to my editor at HarperCollins. Kathryn and I had a decent enough walk. Last night, we watched E. Elias Merhige's Shadow of the Vampire for the first time since we saw it together way back on February 2, 2001. It's still a wonderful film, an utter delight for the eyes. And I started reading Bones of Contention: Controversies in the Search for Human Origins by Roger Lewin (1987). Not much else worth reporting.

Two of the current eBay auctions will be ending tomorrow, including the copy of Candles for Elizabeth and "On the Road to Jefferson." It will likely be a while before I can offer either of these again.

Okay. I have to go help Spooky pack and get Hubero ready for cat gaol. And ram a fork in my left eye.