GONE DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
England was good, England was great. The novel awaits.
Gone down the rabbit hole. Pulling the circle of black down over me.
Haven't heard from me? Blame Shriek.
Didn't send you something I was supposed to? Blame Shriek.
Pissed at me about anything? Get in line behind Brian Keene. It'll be a long wait.
When I come out again, there'll be dirt in my hair and leaves stuck to my clothes.
The beard will need a trellis.
The fingernails will qualify as their own countries.
The eyes will be fixed somewhere quite other than here.
P.S. But do me a favor while I'm gone--tell everybody about your Secret Life.