palace of winds

Lately I’m becoming more and more enamored of Neil Gaiman’s journal. He is often both witty and humorous, and when he is not tickling me pink he is profound and/or touching, and he is always well-spoken. But mostly I laugh. I laugh a lot.

He writes of having an academic book written about him:

So I’ll be in the Rosen catalogue, in between Neil Armstrong: The First Man on the Moon and Nero: Destroyer of Rome, and schoolchildren across America will stare with huge, impressionable eyes at the pictures of me and the panels from the comics reproduced in the book and then, I have no doubt, will pick up their pens, inspired, and will carefully draw a mustache and/or breasts on each and every picture.