Sofi was complaining about being in the Evil Chair so mom picked her up and continued eating dinner. Something we do a lot without even thinking about it. Then Sofi grabbed a handful of mom's spaghetti. Mom gasped in startlement. I started laughing - the image of Sofi with her hand in mom's spaghetti was pretty funny, trust me. Then Sofi started crying. Not clear if it was because mom gasped, I laughed, or the spaghetti sauce was too hot. Her hand looks ok.
Last night I dreamed that a friend who lived in the same hotel as me had a sick baby: the back of the baby's head was this orange cottage-cheesy gunk and the baby had bloodshot eyes. The pediatrician made a house call, and turned out to be none other than Frank Miller, the comic book author who reinvented Daredevil and Batman and created Sin City. Later, after curing the baby, Frank Miller turned into Harlan Ellison and we went out looking for an arcade so we could play the arctic level of Halo 2. Astute readers will note that in real life I don't live in a hotel, Frank Miller is not a pediatrician (nor is he Harlan Ellison), and that there is no arctic level in Halo 2. Dreams. Huh. Interesting to us, boring to everyone else. [Correction: there really is an arctic level in Halo 2. I forgot. Maybe Frank Miller is Harlan Ellison...]
All my music is angsty, and it's been a while since I've listened to any. I gave Nine Inch Nails a whirl yesterday and found that I was having trouble relating to Trent now that I'm a happy family man. Marilyn Manson, on the other hand...who doesn't get a lift out of listening to the rousing choruses of Antichrist Superstar or Irresponsible Hate Anthem? "I wasn't born with enough middle fingers!" Rock.
It's a wrap. Energy Hook launching July 5th!
1 year ago