Just spent a half hour chasing Newt around the house bellowing “Newwwwwton is a Goooooolem” in a haunted, insane, basso-profundo.

He started it. I was writing a nice story, and he climbed up, and sat on my keyboard, and nose-butted my right tear duct, until I was obliged to wrestle him to the floor and spin him like a tiny orange top, and roar a gutteral growl. He leapt to his feet, tail in the air, and we ran around the apartment after that… he’s good at the peek and dash at doorjams, and is willing to chase me, if I stop chasing him.

He is now worn out, and lapping up a big gulp ‘o water.

I win! I wore out the baby!

A person with the occassional ability to read minds gets dosed with some high power amphetimine-riddled drug. He can’t sleep, but he finds himself experiencing the thoughts of others who *are* sleeping.

add noir, horror maybe, and season to taste.

also – side note / backstory plot

A conspiracy of Golems. Detectives intercept some strange mail. Written in a deliberate, simple style, the letter smells of clay and earth. The language is 15th century Spanish. It seems to be communication between conspirators. A meeting is being arranged, or perhaps an exchange of some sort. It hints at a spread-out network of men, possibly all members of one estranged family. This should be made to seem more sinister than it actually is…

new fabric softener… I usually use snuggle… but I got “fresh rain scent” instead of the regular scent… I really like it. I first noticed it on my sheets, but didn’t think it’d be this distinct on my clothes! It seems to mesh well with the other hippie element… a patchouli daub.

The weather outside is lovely, if a trifle more humid than it was, earlier.

It looks like someone has been at my seeds… it looks like the wrap over the basil has been accosted in some way. I wonder if it’s an animal, or the little girls next door. I had to put them outside, against the house to protect them from Newton… I hope that I made the right decision.

got a line on an information brokering gig, possibly. I think that’d be the bee’s knees… I actively enjoy at finding information on the net and at libraries, and could use the money, too.

welp, off to work. Note to self, pick up scrip on the way home tonight.

Dreamt of falling from a low height… about fifteen or twenty feet, after being struck on the right side by something moving very fast while I was cleaning the gutters of a small house. I remember the jarring of hitting the ground, and my shoulder taking the brunt of it. I wasn’t able to get back up there to finish the job, because the ladder vanished (maybe it disintegrated on impact?) Since I couldn’t finish the job, I hopped in a little tractor and mowed the lawn instead.

Walkies was nice, if uneventful… lots of traffic at the airport… many small jets taking off, going to who knows where. I was reflecting on where they were heading… work? a funeral in another state? a wedding? a new life? I daydreamed about a big number painted on the side of the airplane…telling how many people were happy to be going to where they were headed, how many indifferent, and how many unhappy.

Thermasilk has the niftiest commercials. twig hair running in mazes, the man who throws flaming knives at the woman, Medusa dancing with the flaming gladiator, one is of an ice-princess and balls of light that seem to be faeries, and the redhaired woman with the fire breathing dragon. I’m *really* impressed with the whole series. No dice on a search for the videos online… just the regular stuff… sadly, adcritic.com has been snapped up by another company.

Well, off to water the plants and do last minute prep work before I head out. sayonara, dear journal.

Spam radio. Strangely soothing.

What’s better than reversing the effects of aging with human growth hormones, investing in stocks that will skyrocket, and getting millions of dollars from the Bank of Nigeria? Why, putting it all to music. Spamradio takes all the Internet’s greatest hits and makes beautiful music. Unlike recording outfits, they even parse the sexy ones into their own section, which is good. You know these kids today; the sensational stuff always hits the top of the charts.

nighty night, dear journal.