Posthuman Blues

I've spent a good chunk of the day lost in "Pattern Recognition." I may even finish it tonight. Gibson writes with a very subtle and effective sense of humor that I really appreciate. Critics seem to overlook it, blinded by stylized ambience and information density.

I have essentially parted ways with Mysteries Magazine, although I will very likely continue to function as a contributor. Kim, the editor, masterminded my first book and I am forever in her debt. I hope the magazine is a success, although it will be swimming in some very hoary Darwinian waters (alongside such "weird science" fixtures as "Fortean Times" and "UFO".)

On a brighter note, I've been tentatively but sincerely invited to a UFO conference to be held next year...presumably after the "Mars book" has hit the shelves.

Oh, yeah -- the street preacher I encountered last week was at it again, his children dutifully handing out inane little pamphlets to embarrassed passersby. It was bitterly cold out. This son of a bitch should be locked up for child abuse.

My "1,000 Years" essay is enjoying a nice online existence. As one reader commented, "It's not the next 1,000 years I'm worried about, but the next 1,000 days!" Speaking of which: another antiwar demonstration tomorrow. I promised a friend to meet her after last week's conspicuous absence.

In my CD player:

"Music for the Masses" Depeche Mode
"Outside" David Bowie
"Eponymous" R.E.M.
"OK Computer" and "Kid A" Radiohead