The world has moved on from pages to status updates to 140 characters, so I've mentioned Mr. Mellotron Mooncreature (aka Moonkitty) on Facebook but never the story of his adoption. It's a pretty good story.

Shepherdstown, WV is one of my favorite places on the planet. It's a tiny college town with as many students as locals, and perhaps because of the strength of its environmental program and the type of person who'd come to a small town in West Virginia for a liberal arts education, there's an incredibly organic and friendly vibe there. Essentially the anti-DC and only an hour away.

I'd noticed that Jana Hunter was playing there at the Blue Moon Cafe, and that sounded like a good adventure to have once I was persuaded to have it. I picked up my friend Hallsi and we navigated the winding country roads and arrived, it turned out, early enough to see three girls playing with and trying to give away the most adorable kitten ever. Said adorable kitten was foisted upon me by everyone, so I sat through the entire show with him on my lap (applause only freaked him out the first time) or on the laps of others, and EVERYONE is your friend when you have a kitten, especially when the kitten is that awesome and friendly.

Jana Hunter's band was a little loud for the little guy, so, somewhat ironically, we had to leave shortly into her set. But I have a kitten!



The bunny has learned to climb stairs to get away from him... but I *think* I saw them sort of snuggling together this morning on either side of the cage wall.

The Able Birds played our first good show in a while; we were second, opening for the amazing Caleb Stine. Afterwards, everyone sat around on the steps outside. Allison played violin while Caleb played a few more songs, then I tried my slightly screechy hand and found that I could actually sort of play a bit. Finally got home, exhausted, at 2:30.

What would we do without music, really?

The worst nightmares ever are those in which you wake up, look at the time, start going about your morning, and then something terrifying happens.

And then you wake up again -- at the same time as in your dream -- and the entire morning you're not sure if you're still asleep and you know it could become a nightmare at any second.

You meaning me.

I dreamt that it was impossible to find good diner food in Alaska.

And at Home Depot last night...

Me: "This trap doesn't hurt the mice, right? Just making sure."
Him: "You're going to kill them anyway, aren't you?"
Me: "Uh, no... this says it's a live trap."
Him: "Yeah, but you're supposed to just throw it in the trash with the mouse inside."

What is wrong with people?

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$35 all-you-can-eat tapas are actually a good deal as i don't think i'll ever have to eat again. ood lord. we'd decided that we needed some festive reason for spending that much money, so wikipedia delivered: in 1904, the Jovian moon Himalia was discovered.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, due to slight communication issues, the waiter now thinks Hallsi discovered it.

"Congratulations!" he said, and gave us extra rice pudding to take home.

So I have a mouse in the house. He lives on scraps of rabbit food. Having one cord-chewing miscreant already and having heard scary things about hantavirus, I called Target to ask if they had any mousetraps. Yes. Okay, good. How about ones that don't kill the mice?

"Sure, we've got all sorts of glue traps."

Not quite what I was asking, guy. That's some psychopathic reasoning right there.

Hallsi forced me to ask for the picture; I was basically inarticulate.

Tomorrow: the Fallout 3 midnight launch event
The next day: Hallsi's birthday and a trip to Virginia
The next day: driving back from Virginia
The next day: the Legendary Pink Dots
The next day: Halloween
The next day: The Zombie Lurch

....

Today: food poisoning from bad sushi or hot chocolate.

Awesome timing.

I would seriously buy this house tomorrow if it were closer to DC. And if I could still get a loan without putting $50,000 down.

How awesome are these doors?

http://www.503rialto.com/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=ad&utm_campaign=HouseCville

Someone, move to Charlottesville. Buy this house. Then let me visit.

I just looked through a book about bats. There's a bat with the head of every creature in the world. You name it, there's a bat for it.

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In Soviet Russia, thumbs oppose you.

I dreamt that the MTV of the future had a show where people were injected with ketamine and hooked up to machines that translated the activity in their visual cortices into images on screens. Callers would vote for the best closed-eye imagery and the winner's would become a song's video.

Saturday I took part in what could be described as an epic hybrid of tag and scavenger hunt. By epic, I mean three hundred people running around most of NW DC.

One of the best times I've had recently.

I think a necessary condition of genuine fun might be the reinterpretation of the familiar: it's not a city anymore, it's a playing field.

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The neighbor has a leopard cat who comes to visit via the balcony. It's really part leopard. Beautiful. I can't believe Bengal cats exist.

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I am wondering if there's any way to turn this into a tattoo on my upper arm. The only reservation I have, besides the level of detail necessary for any successful adaptation, is that it's also sort of the cover of Tool's "10,000 Days." Great album, but I'm not sure to what degree it's already recontextualized the art.



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Also, new shoes (I've coveted them for months):

Just finished the third season of Lost.

Mind. Blown.

I cleaned my friends list a bit, removing those who'd deleted their journals. There are people and ideas of people I miss. There is gray in my beard and at my temples.

The world moves on.

Meanwhile, this sluggish, reluctant gloom outside is getting old. The air makes me think of mushy apples.

How do you feel like you've lived enough for the time you've spent living? Does anyone? Can anyone?

Since I've been playing a lot of Rock Band lately (it's crunch time in the game mines, and something has to keep us sane):

(Stolen from monsterhouse)

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together.

These were unexpectedly very slightly interesting. And I like the name "Expander Cycle" a lot.

i've been reading this little book called "the devil's larder," by jim crace. it's a collection of sixty-four very short stories about food that aren't really about food at all, and i want to share almost every single one with almost everyone i know.

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but i don't feel like typing that much.

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i wonder how much of closed-eye imagery we actually see and how much we just think we see, and whether or not there's a difference.

My mind is blown.

Thorns and prickles, most notably those on roses, are common literary symbols for the hidden dangers or woes of something beautiful or pleasant, as in "Every rose has its thorn". Roses lack true thorns since their prickles emerge from the epidermis rather than the pericycle. Growth from the pericycle would make it a modified stem and therefore a thorn. Some roses have been bred not to have prickles.

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Sick again, with an absolute vengeance. What's wrong with me? It does good things for my voice, though. In high school, I tried out for The Miracle Worker and, because my sick voice was so deep and commanding, I got the part of Captain Keller. Little did they know that when I got well it would be an octave higher.