Sunday, April 06, 2003
Interesting article forwarded to me by Bob Morales,Michael Medved on Captain America on National Review Online. I suppose it's because Medved made his name as a film critic (not the kind that writes interestingly about films to leave you yearning to go back and see it again, but the kind that makes fun of Plan 9 From Outer Space and Robot Monster) that he assumes that no-one's actually writing the comics he's talking about, or that Bob Morales's agenda and politics are the same as John Ney Reiber's (neither of whom are mentioned in the article).

Hi Neil

On Saturday the Independent had a feature on Diana Wynne Jones that managed to mention JK Rowling hardly at all:

Best wishes


I noticed, and was thrilled.

Not a FAQ, but those of your readers who are also interested in Tori Amos can see a list of her favorite books (including American Gods,
of course) in the San Jos� Mercury News book section:

Diana in San Jos�

Tash likes stories with scary ladies in them, eh? I shall remember that.

Spent the day at Disney-MGM, mostly so that Maddy could ride the Tower of Terror, which she (and Holly and I) did, three and a half times. (The halfth time was the first, and the car broke down as it was about to move forward into the twilight-zoney bit, and nice men had to come and get us out and lead us down a back elevator and start us over again).

Now back in hotel room for an hour to unwind, do e-mail, and nap, before going back for the Fantasmic show.


And a final e-mail from Will Shetterly...

Emma and I are selling a few things on ebay. Two of them might be of
interest to your web log readers: a "Return of Pansy Smith and Violet
Jones" Flash Girls CD and a Gregg Press hardcover of Delany's
DRIFTGLASS. The full list is at:

But if this seems like the tip of the wedge into turning your blog into
"Neil "Great Deal!" Gaiman's Guide to Awesome Internet Auctions!", feel
free to ignore this, honest. Will.

Really, I'm only posting this because I'm trapped in a hotel room with two girls who happen, coincidentally, to be singing more or less random lines from "Post-Mortem on Our Love" while jumping on each other and shouting things like "It's 'on our love', not 'of our love', Daddy, you wrote the song, tell her!"