July 20, 2009

My energy was so enduring yesterday that I hiked to the Grove Park Inn at dusk and had a couple of cocktails in the main lobby, while a singer warbled countrified pop standards. As I drank, I breathed out a wish for some sort of adventure before the night was over, and that wish was granted. As I walked back home in the darkness, I heard the sound of a violin. Someone was playing a violin from a porch on Country Club Road. There was no traffic, and I was obscured from any light by the overhang of trees, so I danced in the middle of the road, danced in the darkness to the music of an unseen fiddle.

Werewolves of London has been chosen as part of Turtle Shell Production’s festival of summer shorts. Details forthcoming. It might mean another trip to New York.