Skinny Legs and All took us to Burning Man and back, then lay neglected, if not forsaken, on the headboard (like a paperback shell in a dusty cave). Somewhere between Temple City and Nevada Landing, though, the Fifth Veil has fallen. Vegas lights the sky with empty promises; the sodium glow of the streetlamps is the gilt on this Temple. Sometime before dawn, the Seventh Veil will float to the floor on the other side of the Utah border, and we’ll be more than halfway home.

We just got home from a birthday party at the Red Lion in Silverlake – excellent sausages and really good beer. (And this coming from someone who doesn’t normally drink beer.) Now, it’s time to pack; we’re driving to Wyoming tomorrow for Thanksgiving at my Mom’s house. I’ve already made up little packets of the cat’s meds, so our housemate can feed her while we’re gone. (And she’s clinging to NovySan’s leg, because he’s the one who gives her raw meat with her cat food. This is intentional – since I’m home with her all day, I try to only give her cat food. That way, she doesn’t follow me around whining for ground beef and venison.)

Friday, I watched The Rats on Hulu (in which the titular rats eat a fat guy and a black man). Tonight, NovySan and I watched The Night of the Living Dead (in which our black hero survives the zombie apocalypse, only to be shot in the head by a reneck sheriff).

Now, I want to write a horror movie in which the only victims are slender, intelligent white men.

Who’s with me?