weapons of massdistraction

Oh dear, I just played with the Soulless Victorian Dress-Up Doll. I guess I really do have a problem. The affliction? A love of satirical steampunk. I devoured Gail Carriger’s book in one sitting (alas, the sequel, Changeless, won’t be out until March). I suppose there are worse things to do with one’s Saturday night. But I keep missing out on epic shows of late. Last night I could have taken my dear son to the early all ages P.O.S. / Slapping Purses / Moonstone show at First Avenue but I knew it would be jam-packed and the sensory overload would have been too much. Instead we went for a late afternoon swim at our Y, enjoyed dinner at Midori’s Floating World, and browsed at Border’s. Later in the evening I wished I’d procured a sitter for the Paul Metzger / Thunderbolt Pagoda / Sadhu Sadhu show at the Milford Amusement Center. At least I have my foot soldiers out in the world, documenting these happenings for me. And I vow to make it to the upcoming Mount Eerie show at all costs.

This morning I am lazing when I should be actively preparing. A week from now I will be departing on an epic adventure, all while attempting to kick start my next novel. I’ve never tried to get my 2000 words a day written while on a road trip. This should be all kinds of interesting. But I’m getting ahead of myself again. Before that, I need to get the house, my son, the cats and myself ready for my absence. And before that, get everything all ready steady go for Halloween - the most important of all holidays in our little household.

Bonus: Utterly ridiculous. “Nanny State Warns British Biscuit-Eaters of Potential Peril… Killer Cookies in UK?”
Plus: Morrissey collapses on stage during concert. I do hope Moz will be all right.
And: Seven years ago today I remember waking up, in a hotel in Chicago, and going for a solo walk / coffee acquisition expedition. My ex was still sleeping. An elderly couple struck up conversation with me at a park near Lake Michigan. When they found out I was from Minnesota they said “well, it’s just awful, isn’t it?” I had to inquire as to what, as I hadn’t seen a newspaper yet. But they were referring to the deaths of Paul and Sheila Wellstone. So sad.