San Jose is beautiful.
As the driver drove me into the centre of San Jose, and seeing the teeming throngs of people in badges crossing the street in front of us, he exclaimed, "Jesus. Who ARE these people?"
"Well," I said, "That's Patrick Neilsen Hayden. That looks a lot like Tom Schaad. That's Jon Singer."
"No," I said.
Finished the handwritten draft of the story for Michael Chabon-edited issue of McSweeneys today. Have to type it out now. It didn't work as a ghost story until I gave it a framing story, in a seedy London club, at which point it came to life, and became an odd sort of companion piece to the story I wrote for Peter Straub last month.