Confessions of a Fuck-Up Artist!

~ What I enjoy doing occasionally with the above gif is coding it for 'marquee', swiveling in my chair to the right and looking over my left shoulder at it. Then I can pretend I'm riding real fast on an old sky blue Vespa as I race, chase and overtake the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Depending on where the eye falls I'll be like - "Ah-ah-ah-ya-better-run Bitches, here I come!" or if in passing giving my best Eddie Izzardesque "Ciao, Death!"

It helps some too if you hum outloud the sound of a revving engine.

~ Some folks suffer from what hipster-satanist's have labeled as 'Psychic Vampires'. Not me though. I've got nothing left to leech - psychic or otherwise. My E-Meter audits in the red. Monochrome chakras spinning lethargic as old ceiling fans dying down. I'm running on fumes here lately and not the good kind at that. No Sir (or Ma'am or whoever you are), I don't suffer from Psychic Vampires. I got me a bigger problem - Brain-Wolves!

The Brain-Wolves are indeed on the prowl tonight. They don't so much smell fear as they smell of it. Each beast reeking with the stink of jangled nerves before a fist fight about to go bad, sour black coffee warmed over between shaking hands and beds pissed fresh from the depths of recurring nightmares. Though never seen directly they often manifest just before sleep, appearing as the shadows moving under the crack of your door and the shifting black figure perched on the corner of your eye. In bounding packs the Brain Wolves hunt the gentle Bear of Pride and the delicate Song Bird of Imagination. Ambushing before either can fight or flight, ravenous jaws crippling wing or claw in a spray of blood, before dragging their still struggling prey back through the streets of empty memories to the feeding grounds.

It's some bad shit, let me tell you!

~ Exterminator arrived today here at the Witch House. First one in over two years. Now my humble abode is playing back drop to palmetto bug ground zero. Big, fat, black roaches have periodically come racing out of the corners trying to escape or make one last attack. No doubt the champion of its people, one came at me in the bathroom trying to strike at me with its dying breath. Then there's the last stragglers of some mass exodus that didn't escape in time spread throughout the hallway stairs outside - lying on their backs, kicking weakly to regain mobility, each cursing the God of Roaches for allowing a world where so many innocent had suffered. The spiders too have been more active this evening - dangling from the claustrophobic ceiling waiting to dive into an unwatched cup or careless yawn. At night their ghosts will crawl in legion invisibly over my sleeping body... if the Brain Wolves don't get me first.

It hasn't exactly been what one might call a relaxing atmosphere here at the 'Casa de la Bruja'.

~ For the twitter/facebook inclined: Finished Turn of the Screw today. Food shopped and carried way too many groceries through the rain (losing a quarter of my eggs and a yogurt along the way). Waited on line at the bank for forty minutes. Worked on the book for a few hours. Confession - only one of these designated hours was actually spent work working the other three were me pounding my fists into the side of my head. Caught Neil Gaiman on the Colbert Report earlier. Tuna salad and blueberries for dinner. Sorry, but I'm just not good at making the minutia sparkle. God may be in the details but it doesn't make Hir any more interesting for doing so.

Ciao *blows kiss*