Journal

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Gahan Merritt?

Peter Straub sent me an e-mail this morning letting me know about his website, the mysteriously named http://www.peterstraub.net/ and I've just started wandering around it. It's hard not to fall in love with a website that comes with a photo on the front page that demonstrates not only that Stephin Merritt and Gahan Wilson were separated at birth, but that they are also both avatars of Stan Laurel...

Questions are answered, such as:

What�s it like to be a world-famous celebrity author?

Well, you�d never believe the anguish, the hardships, the sheer pain of being one of the most famous people in America. First of all, I can never leave the house without wearing a wig, a hat, and sunglasses. This is extremely tiresome, especially when I go to the movies. The people behind me keep punching me in the shoulders and yelling at me to take my hat off, so I am often compelled to turn around and whisper to them �Mind your manners, bub, I�m a world-famous celebrity author!� Besides that, there�s that incessant horde that gathers each and every day in front of my charming little palace on the Rhine and throws pebbles up at my windows. There are days when I truly wish I were an anonymous hack, but they are few in number.


It also contains interviews, articles, scrapbook things, introductions, stuff, and a recipe for hibiscus vodka. It's one of the best author sites I can remember running into: pure Peter Straub from beginning to end, which means it's very smart, and very funny, and written by a man who comes across as deceptively and utterly normal until you see the peculiar glint in his eye or ponder just how many serial killers he has running around in his head...


Don Murphy's official website has a small graphic of Death, which you can click, that pops-up a window stating a major announcement at Comic-Con... Is this a hint? Can you elaborate in the slightest, confirm or deny or anything?


Well, things are getting closer, and there may well be something that we can announce at San Diego. Or not. (Blinks innocently.)