I love my job.

[kiya]

So I've spent much of the evening banging my head against research. (With public thanks to keeps, who is a lifesaver or some other form of hard candy and got me a useful link while I was busy despairing of managing to extract anything useful from Google.) I found useful stuff eventually (case studies of the medical results of explosions in Chinese firework factories, anyone?), and am now prepared to write my gunpowder-explosion scene.

I decide to go for appropriate music. Decide that washing-machine music is appropriate. Pop into iTunes, where I have a little Sisters of Mercy ripped, and pick one of my favorites, which begins . . .

"With the fire from the fireworks up above me. . ."

. . . reading the lyrics for purpose of making this entry, it occurs to me that this isn't a bad song for some aspects of my main characters, neither of whom is actually in this scene.

With the fire from the fireworks up above me
With a gun for a lover and a shot for the pain
You run for cover in the temple of love
I shine like thunder, cry like rain. . .

Peripheral note: How about them Red Sox? How about them Cubs?