All Souls' Night

I have just recalled a formerly lost bit of memory from '97 or '98, of some silliness involving a rubber chicken and the song "I Shot the Sheriff" (bcaw! But I did not shoot the deputy) in which I provided the female vocals and Daniel interjected the bcaw (with a snap of the wrist that threw the chicken's head back) and rapped about being hungry and how the sheriff was good eatin' but the deputy was too dry and stringy.

Wow. Okay, yeah, I'm grinning now.

The Malebranche ("evil claws") are so much at liberty because of the "evil" clause, which, of comparatively recent date, states in so many words that merely sinning is not enough to earn eternal damnation; one's character and inclinations must be thoroughly bad. Because of this, those whose task nominally is to encourage, by their treatment and presence, crooked barristers, sellers of indulgences, and other like souls, to stay beneath the surface of the lake of boiling tar which is ever after their fate, have so little to do that they can often be found walking among men, wearing human guise, and seeking entertainment at bars, clubs, raves, coffee houses, and parks. Shocking as such conduct may be, bear in mind that, though demons, they are not the enemy. Their place is to torture, not to tempt, and nothing but the most extreme of exigencies* would cause them to abandon the purpose for which they have been created.



* to put it properly, they're bored out of their minds and aware that they've been lost in the system. But it would never do for a notice to say that.

Okay, so. For whatever reason, my mattress is about five inches short for my bedframe. So I had made a pillow-thing to sit over the gap, so things didn't fall through... like my head, for example, back when I slept in that direction. The pillow is a little wider than the bed, actually, and round; to make it, I took one of those floating noodle thingies that kids play with in the pool, and wrapped a fair amount of batting around it, then finished it up with a round bag-shape sort of like a golf-bag, which is made most randomly of green-and-autumn colored, formal-brocade-patterned corduroy, and is the actual outside of the pillow. It was there, and is nowhere near as ugly as that description makes it sound. Only the bag was too big, still, even after all that batting, so I pulled out a needle with a blunt end and a huge eye and stitched it tight with some narrow ribbon. And the open end was already designed to simply close with a drawstring, so that was that.

Anyway.

I know that I am a violent sleeper. (Not always. Sometimes I lie deathly still and wake up in a cold sweat. But that's rare.) My sister refuses to share a bed with me after I clocked her in the eye. While asleep. With no memory of it afterwards. But still.

I just noticed that that pillow, which lies at the foot of my bed, had been ejected at some time in the night, and is lying on the floor in a manner that suggests it might have gotten there by bouncing off the far wall first. Well, was. I've picked it up and put it back now. And my feet don't normally reach the foot of the bed! Man. Apparently I not only swing fists but have the kick of doom when I'm asleep.

And once again I prove my ability to write a decent paper (or so I think) in a little under two hours.

I AM RETURNED! Or something like that.

So the flight home as an overnight, which means that we had a stopover starting at 5:30, and due to a broken plane, didn't actually reach home until an hour later than expected. Dad and I were extremely out of it, so I don't really count yesterday. Today I am officially HOME, although not completely set up, and I'll start worrying about stuff like finding a place to put my clothing and computer, etc, probably tomorrow. For today, the big stuff is looking through my mother's music bag and deciding if I think I'm capable of joining the year version of the women's chorus I sing with over the summer this late in the season. Mary's said she wants me to join, but there's a lot more music to be memorized, and, well...

Eh, I'll probably do it, just because I love singing. And I get to be all falala one moment, and all depressing the next, because the theme this time 'round is British Music, LA.

The other big thing, of course, is putting together a list of people back at PO, etc., to keep in touch with via something that is going to suspiciously resemble a newsletter, only not so methodical. In other words, a mailing list. I'll work on it.

I admit to sort of planning to do something like post a giant message about GOOD MORNING when I got up, but then I lazed around and read instead, so I can't ask people to do a hands-up for all who think this is insanely early to be posting. It's 1:30 here, of course.

Anyway, I guess this is feeling kind of like a letter, so for everyone, I give,
My so great love,
          [insert your preferred name for me]