So, last night I think I played about a billion hours of Destroy All Humans, the most wickedly addictive and satisfying video game since maybe forever. It has grabbed my inner sociopath by the nipples and won't let go. There. I said it. Nipples. I sat in front of the television for a billion hours, gleefully leveling 1950s America — bowling alleys, cheesy motels, a drive-in threatre, the whole enchilada (that is an Earth saying, right?). Finally, my eyes were beginning to liquefy, and Spooky made me go to bed. I asked her to read me McElligot's Pool, but then I passed out before she even got started. Oh, I know I might have been using all that time last night to better my mind or clean the kitchen sink or something, something more constructive than vaporize the U. S. Army and all those MiBs, but what the frell. I wrote all day. I began "Zero Summer." At least, I hope I began "Zero Summer." I wrote 1,215 words. I did more research on Mimas (My-mass or Mee-mus are apparently both accepatble pronunciations). And then we proofed more of To Charles Fort, With Love — "The Dead and the Moonstruck," pp. 187-201.

I'm actually teetering at the edge of a very black mood. The disruptive forces that have recently had so much fun with my life, they tell me to go ahead and fall in. It's not so far to the bottom. And you know you like it down there. And I tell them to go suck a Durian fruit, and we go round and round like that all day.

Anyway, I think those are the high points for today (or yesterday, to be precise). Watch your step. Mind the gap.