My torn muscle, according to the doctor, is doing much better than he would normally have expected at this point. While that's undeniably good, it kind of struck me like those "positive rejections" you get from editors. ("We all loved this book but it's not right for our list so we can't publish it.") I mean, it's good to be doing well, but I still walk like Chester on the old Gunsmoke. He -- the doctor, not Chester -- says another week until I'm walking like a normal person and then another month before I'm back on the running track, the b'ball court, etc. By then it'll be spring, so my mood will improve on every front.

Meanwhile, in case you need to see me reading one of Rosalie Gilder's letters from THE SHANGHAI MOON at the Cell Theater last Sunday, here's video shot by Gerald So, one of the other readers. Gerald edits THE LINEUP, a terrific magazine of crime poetry. Say what? Well, go check it out.