A chipmunk just peered through the sliding glass door at me. I think it was the chipmunk that's spent two days in here that we couldn't manage to catch. I think it went ouside when I intended it to, and was now trying to come back inside to its newfound "home."
I've been having too much fun posting on M. John Harrison's forum discussing the New Weird, getting into heated discussions of whether genre boundaries are good or evil, whether we would be willing to die for our literary beliefs, and generally hashing out what the New Weird is. I've arrived at a formulation I'm rather pleased with (though someone may chime in in radical disagreement at any moment): the New Weird is deeply opposed to is the corrupt linkage between marketing category and genre product.