1B. (everything is beautiful, everything is fine)
According to my paper journal, I think/have thought that "Bride of Christ and Frankenstein" would be an "AWESOME TITLE!!" for a book, short story, play, etc., but I was unable to think up a plot, theme, setting, or characters to go with it. I will say that on the off-chance anybody wants to use this title for anything, they are absolutely welcome to it (as long as they tell me what they end up using it for).
This book is so weird I'm tempted to download it. I'm haunted by the possibility that I may be a horse in human form. After all, I sometimes find the use of fingers perplexing. I know there are internet subcultures of people who either enjoy pretending to be animals or who believe that they are spiritually wolves, swans, muskrats, etc. in some sense, but Jason the Horse doesn't appear to be connected with any of those. He seems almost like an Emperor Norton sort of person-- you know, he's very sane apart from the fact that he thinks he's a horse.
I know it's jumping on a bandwagon since the show's been experiencing a resurgence of cult popularity lately, but Twin Peaks is quite amazing. It is about what I'd expect if you asked me to imagine what would happen if David Lynch made a soap opera-slash-detective drama, only better. (Or I could say it's a bit like smarter, less formulaic, and less overtly paranormal X-Files and a bit like darker, seedier, less whimsical Pushing Daisies.) I'm still not quite done with the first season. The library has a DVD box set, but they'll only let you take three discs out at a time, and the nice people at the circulation desk were a little annoyed that I was making them re-shuffle all the contents of the giant box set's case so that I'd just be taking the first three discs and leaving the rest. I'm not sure why the library has box sets for television shows (instead of smaller, individual DVD compilations), since it causes so much trouble. Anyway, it feels more like something I ought to be watching on a VHS tape while kneeling in front of my old, tiny, obsolete video player in my bedroom in high school. Getting rug burn on my legs and turning the volume waaaay down whenever my mother walked past the door. (This is how I watched horror movies when I was fifteen.)
I just ate stale chocolate chip cookies for...uh, whatever you call the meal you eat at 11:00 AM; brunch, I suppose, but I always think of "brunch" as being all fancy omelets and linen napkins. It was the kind of thing I always promised myself I'd do as an adult when I was a kid. Eating cookies as a meal, I mean. My inner eight-year-old is gleeful.
On Wednesday, I'm going back to my hometown. If you've already mailed something to me, don't worry! I'm arranging to have my mail rerouted to my parents' home address until I can get a P.O box. Just to keep you posted, and in case you were wondering why I still talk about living in a dorm and wandering around a college campus all the time when technically, you know, I'm not a college student anymore.