Some Day, This Too Shall Pass

I'm still down for the count with this cold/flu/plague. Hopefully, it will all come to an end soon, restoring me to my much-desired state of perfect health. In the meantime, I continue to hydrate my sinuses and nostrils while dehydrating the rest of my body. I'll be glad when the snot dries up. It's hard to retain thoughts in my head when it's overstuffed with mucous.

I saw Cloverfield last night. No spoilers here, but let me just say it's the best movie I never want to see again. At least, I don't ever want to see it on a big screen again--not without having popped a few Gravol first. A few times, I had to not only close my eyes, but cover my face with my hands, terrified toddler-style, to keep the scary flickering lights from triggering my urge to purge. I just might watch it again on DVD, with the pause button ready to slay any incipient nausea.

For once, the armour-making in my home isn't being done by me. f00dave and snowy_kathryn have gotten the armour bug, and spend last night making bracers and greaves. I hear my buddy James wants to come by this week to get some done, too. I still want to put a few finishing touches on mine, and make a few tweaks. I also want to make my leather pants into studded leather pants. I'll have to find some automotive spray paint, because I don't want the studs to be shiny. I'm far too sneaky a character to want to have shiny metal drawing attention to me when I'm skulking through the underbrush with my sword in hand.

Last week, I brought home a dance pole for my own use. Once I'm feeling better, I'm going to be practicing much more regularly. Let's see if I can come up with some pole/belly dance fusion. That'll scandalize someone, I'm sure.

At the end of the month, I'm off to Toronto yet again for a dance conference: On the Move. I'm still looking for crash space for the nights of January 31 and February 1. If you live in downtown Toronto and have space on your couch, let me know, please! I promise to be a good house guest and not shit on the floor.

Ready for links? Here you go!

Move Over, 'Meerkat Manor': Not your typical plagiarism case.

The Internet Party: What Happens When Google's Parents Leave Town for the Weekend: The anthropomorphosis of websites can be pretty darned funny!

Man sodomized stepson in revenge: To paraphrase Chris Rock, I'm not saying he should have done it, but I understand.

Batter Blaster: Wait. Spray pancakes?

Nelson Rocks Preserve Disclaimer: Best disclaimer I ever did read.

Incubus

Tactile hallucinations are indicative of brain damage.
I don't recall any bumps to the head.
So why do I feel your hands on me?
My thoughts never match reality.
Your nails are sharp, and so are your teeth.
I know because they scrape me.
I know because they wake me.
A subtle shift in night sends me chasing the thrill of night terrors.

I should flee to the arms of a saint,
to the grasp of the perpetually unloved.
Patient. Not jealous. And so very palpable.

But I flee to my demon of sleep,
to the clasp of the priapically absent.
Jealous. Impatient. And so greatly desired.