Low Red Moon journal

        Wednesday, August 17, 2005

        Addendum: Poppy has been spillin' da beans about our misbegotten youth and the "butt game." But she didn't say anything about the Beavis and Butthead remote control thingy that I got somewhere (and I believe I still have). You'd press a button and some annoying sound fx or idiotic bit of dialog from the show would play. Loudly. When we went to Ireland together in '96, I took it along, and we kept pressing buttons during the flight — "This sucks! Change it!" or Butthead laughing or "I am Cornholio!" or, my favourite, the sound of breaking glass. These days, having a thing like that on an airplane would probably end with permanent incarceration at Guantanamo Bay or Area 51 or something. Also, her post reminded me of the 2002 World Horror Con in Chicago. Darren and I were sharing a room, and one night, after I'd won two IHGs and he'd thrown a big, drunken Gothic.net shindig, we'd gone to bed, the lights were off, and one or the other of us began replacing words in the title of Lovecraft stories with "poo." You know, "The Poo of Cthulhu," "The Shadow Over Poosmouth," "The Colour Out of Poo," "The Haunter of the Poo," etc. and etc., ad nauseum. I think we giggled until one or the other of us almost puked. So, don't ever say I haven't been honest about my propensity to act like a total dumbass. Because I have.

        Hey, Poppy. "It's still there."

        Anyway, here's a cool new Cambrian thingy (I'm thinking it might be a primitive chordate, like Pikaia from the Burgess Shale). Several people have sent me the link, and I thought I should share.

        Last night, we took an extra long walk, and the bats were out again. One snatched a cicada from the air, and the most hideous cacaphony ensued — the muffled scream of a cicada as the bat flittered about overhead, the insect's cries slowly growing fainter and fainter like the engines of a dying jet fighter.


        6:43 PM


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