A few nights ago I surprised myself. When I put the laptop away there was a bright, blue flash. I did it again and got another bright, blue flash.
Since it's reproducible, I'm not hallucinating.
Ends up that there's a pen/laser pointer/flashlight device on the floor and the pressure of the laptop set it off. The flashlight is a weird, bright blue light. For a second, I wondered why I had cerenkov radiation in my apartment.
While I was at it, I bought Baldur's Gate and a book for myself. Part of the reasoning behind purchasing a book is that it'll jinx next week being a slow week. Just like washing one's car will cause a noachian downpour, being ready for the slow period only means things will get unreasonably busy at work.
A few nights ago raddidge sent me a link for YouTube that has lesbian robots. It's a Bjork music video. At least it was interesting and creative in execution.
raddidge and I were under the heavy, gray skies of the Republic's northeast. We were headed into New York City on a train. She was insistent that we ride in the frontmost car even though everyone else was piling into the second and third cars which were brightly lit. The first traincar was dark. "It'll be fun!" was her mantra. We clambered in and began our journey.
Turns out that riding in the first car is always a bad thing, moreso when it's unlit. The momentum of the middle two cars was used to send the first car forward where it was switched onto an alternate track to be decomissioned while the actual traincars went into New York City.
We ended up zipping through the urban industrial wastes that are the Meadowlands before coming to a stop somewhere in godforsaken Newark. A very rough section of the godforsaken city of Newark. On the bright side, at least it isn't Camden.
Turns out, in this instance, that my father's business is located in Newark. At least we're not entirely abandoned to the wilds and violent gangs of youths roaming the nighttime streets. We went inside and found a ringing payphone. An old black woman was on the other end who had a job for me. She wanted me to take lots of photos. I went out and took pictures at a funeral, a picture of what I thought were some black girl's bare legs and photographs chronicling the urban condition. Now these were taken with old-fashioned, analog film not newfangled digital cameras. Fortunately developing the film was a snap. I just had to shake the black film cannister until I knew the film was completely developed and became available as tiny prints on fragile paper.
The funeral pic caught a girl's ghost. She was in attendance at her final going-away party. The picture of the black girl's legs ended up being a photo of a crescent moon topiary cut from a rose bush. All of the other pictures were very dark and I was glad I couldn't make out the details.
Now I can't find raddidge and the phone's ringing again. This time it's one of my sister's elementary school friends on the other line. Randi Ellison. She says that she'll drive me back home if I consent to phone sex. Before we even start, I realize that I'm in her car driving downhill with New Jersey spread out on the horizon before me.
