What I Wouldn’t Dream

I don’t know, but last night, Neil Gaiman lived in our basement. He came out once to say “Hi” and do a signing. Then, he went back.

There were a lot of kittens crawling all over the house, too. Don’t ask why.

I actually wound up doing lots of research last night before I went to bed for the current book, and a bit of rewriting. I also managed to secure a hair appointment in L.A. before I leave. I suspect I’m going to have to lose my long locks for the sake of everyone’s sanity if I do this red thing. But at the rate my hair grows, it’s temporary.

When I return, I’m picking up a copy of FREE CULTURE by Lawrence Lessig, as it was just recommended to me by this guy. My brain is in hyperdrive about all these ideas regarding creative commons and inventive use of copyright. Maybe something useful will come of it.

Speaking of whom, he posted a link to this BBC test: “Can you tell a fake smile from a genuine one?” I got 15 out of 20. So, mind yourself if you’re tempted to flash me a falsy, baby.

And now to do more research in town today for the other book. Fairies, fountains, fables — oh my!

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