So anyway, after weeks of being vaguely ill, I am badly behind on both the novel and the movie book with work on the revised expanded Buffy book looming. So of course I decide to start keeping a journal again because, hey, displacement activity.
But writing in here is less pernicious than playing Civilization.
Meanwhile, I am struck with anticipatory grief about the demise of most of the shows I love. Farscape was murdered, Buffy is reaching the term of its natural life and I suspect that Angel will not get its fifth year. And indeed its fourth year is so miraculously good that it is hard to see what they could do next year except the sort of shell-shocked back to basics episode that Jen and I postulated to each other a while back.
I have been thinking about fake entries in reference books and maybe there is a story to be written about the publishing freelance who is used to doing this as a matter of course and so puts one in a dictionary of the occult and thereby creates a ritual or a grimoire or a god that previously did not exist, but, because names are power, does now.
I went to see Adaptation this evening, and loved it, but am freaking out because two of the characters are real people played by actors who are friends of friends of mine. McKie the screenwriting guru (played by Brian Cox) used to date my friend Anna and I was the reader for 'The Orchid Thief' the book it is about adapting with the result that Susan Orleans (played by Meryl Streep) is a friend of Ravi, the editor I mostly work for. There are times when I feel art and life impinging too readily.