" I wish to do more violence."

I do not want this journal to become a whining catalog of my physical infirmities. But when those infirmities have a direct bearing on my ability to think, to work, to sleep, to fucking write, the one concern overlaps the other. Things that I have always considered too personal to place in a public journal become central to my public endeavors. It has grown very confusing. What to say, what not to say. The worst seizure last night since October, probably, and it must have been about 3:30 or 4 ayem when it happened. Just hit like a jet plane landing inside my head, no warning, and then I was afraid to try to go to sleep. I was up until a little after six. The sound of the mockingbirds finally drove me to bed, and I slept through nightmares until about one, to wake feeling not the least bit rested. To wake feeling even more exhausted than when I fell asleep.

Seizure: "act of seizing," 1482, from seize (q.v.). Meaning "sudden attack of illness" is attested from 1779. Or, Epilepsy: 1578, from M.Fr. epilepsie, from L.L. epilepsia, from Gk. epilepsia "seizure," from epi- "upon" + lepsis "seizure," from leps-, future stem of lambanein "take hold of, grasp" (see analemma). Replaced the native name, falling sickness. Of course, my seizures are not exactly epilepsy, they're just pretty much indistinguishable from epileptic seizures.

More reading yesterday, more of the New England vampire book.

I do think, after looking over yesterday's comments, that I have resolved to make the protagonist of The Red Tree the same age as me, which will be -04 for most of the time I'll be writing the book. How far in the Pit has American publishing sunk when it's afraid of middle-aged and older characters? Afraid or simply disinterested. Whatever. I'll make the weird girl who lives in the attic of the house , the painter — who was going to me a man — a twenty-something. Maybe that'll make people happy. But I discovered, when I wrote "Salammbô Redux (2007)" last summer, that it was something I needed to do, writing older characters. So, there. Thank you for the comments yesterday. You tipped the scales.

Here's a cool little thing. Jeff VanderMeer writes about ghouls (and I get a mention, alongside HPL and Brian McNaughton), and there's a link to an article of the origin of HPL's ghouls (which are, more or less, my "Hounds of Cain"). Thank you, sovay, for bringing this to my attention.

Last night, a sort of half-hearted "Kid Night," we watched the last three episodes of the final season of Angel. Seasons Four and Five were really quite good. The series was just hitting its stride. Wesley's death and that final scene — marvelous, but it was a hard ending to take. And then we watched Battlestar Galactica, which was good, and gods, but I do adore Katie Sackoff. However, I think commercials really do this series grave harm. The suspense builds and is then deflated. I'll likely watch the whole series over on DVD when it's done. Later, some very frustrating Second Life, nothing to write home about.

I did not leave the house yesterday.

I'm going to go now and try to get some reading done.