Art of the Odd

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.

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?

Not that kind of quickie, you perv. (Though I did have quiche for lunch, if you know that joke.)

I’ll be back tomorrow, with a missing-child mystery for you to solve, and a bit of background on your (not particularly) humble correspondent.

Until then, my lovelies, good night.