Well, apparently Frightflix still wants to option Exquisite Corpse even though I won't be part of the HYPE MACHINE, and I guess I am going to let them. I really, really hope they don't get Trent Reznor to do the soundtrack, though. It's true that Pretty Hate Machine was an important soundtrack for Drawing Blood, but I wish like anything that I hadn't mentioned it in the acknowledgments, because now everyone thinks I like him forever and ever, and apart from that album (which I haven't listened to in a good twelve years), I really don't like him at all. In fact, I think he's kind of an annoying little twerp, and yet another one of those people who moved to New Orleans looking for a fantasy and then got mad at us when the city didn't oblige. He hung around longer than Marilyn Manson or Courtney Love, I'll give him that, but he ain't here now.

After all the HYPE MACHINE business, I am apprehensive about what sort of movie these folks may make, but life has been hard here in the Third World lately. The lights in the front room and breakfast room stopped working about six weeks ago. Since Tropical Storm Cindy, the phone hasn't worked either, and we're getting by on a cell phone that gets extremely poor reception here in the house, so I can't really talk to anybody unless I want to go sit in the car somewhere. Electricians and BellSouth want hundreds of dollars to even come look at these things, after which they will certainly tell us that fixing them requires additional hundreds if not thousands. I mentioned the expensive new mattress I had to buy. The day after I paid for that, our dryer died. Since Chris only has three work uniforms, relying on laundromats isn't an option. I'll cease the pathetic litany here, but as you can see, I'm really in no position to turn down a decent chunk of option money as long as I am not expected to personally whore myself out for it. (Whoring the book out is a different story. I'd be more protective if it had to do with my current work, but as far as I'm concerned, they can turn all the Exquisite Corpse characters into clowns on bicycles if they want to. I just feel no emotional connection with that novel anymore -- even less than I do with Lost Souls or Drawing Blood, for which I at least feel a sort of nostalgic affection.)

I'm rereading Thomas Harris' Jack Crawford trilogy (Red Dragon, Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal) again. Not sure why, as I know them almost by heart, but I've learned to trust my literary cravings, particularly at an important stage of my own work. Soul Kitchen inches along. I think I will meet my deadline, but people need to stop inviting me to do fun things, because I am sorely tempted.

You guys, it doesn't matter what I think of a particular rock star. Do you really care about the musical opinions of somebody whose favorite band is Benny Grunch & the Bunch? Don't take it personally.

I suppose I shouldn't mention that I can't stand Tori either.