Goatman Hollow

So, once again it is OCTOBER. the most wonderful time of the year.

GOATMAN HOLLOW

is the haunted house I 'haunt' every Friday and Saturday night. I know only 3 people read this, but if each of those 3 brings their roommates, best friends, and significant other to squeeze the hand/butt of through the haunt, you'll totally make it worth my while posting this entry! <3>

http://www.goatmanhollow.com ONLY USING INTERNET EXPLORER

I don't know why. T3kn0L0-g f41L

EDIT: All fixed URL!!!

Mousey Worth

a Dead mouse had settled into his paper nest amidst lamps, mummified before we found him by opening the box. It's a sort of sweet odor; dead mouse.

Deadlocks

I don't have dreadlocks; I have twists.

They appear to be similar. In nature, they certainly are. Stop rolling your damn eyes, I see you.

Anyway, they are twisted pieces of hair which by some miraculous feat of delicious nature are not untwisting. I am not 'locking' my hair (which is a process I am familiar with and can achieve maximum success), which involves making negotiable but rather irretrievable knots in a selected width of hair. Generally these widths do not exceed an inch.

My twists are for the most part ~1/8th of an inch. If I pulled them apart they would look SO CURLY. I wore them at the beach, in the water (the current knocked me over, hehe, unplanned swimming) . My scalp is covered... coated... slathered... in sand. It is a most unpleasant sensation of itching. I do plan to fix it, so keep your 'dirty hippie' and 'smelly artist' comments.

that is all. deadlocks. because hair... is already dead.

Hard to Know What to Say

My cat who is 15 years old is in extraordinarily bad shape. He's going to sleep tomorrow, and being put in the ground. My dad is also quite attached to this cat. For now, the cat is resting in his favorite spot with food and water next to his head. I'm frightened to take him to the litter box because of how agitated he gets when he's lifted up. I will do it. Everyone deserves to die with dignity, rather than a rotting mess. This pic is from this past autumn.

Love you Patches.

Crabs Scream

Apparently crabs make a noise like screaming when they die. You can hear it if you boil hundreds of them at a time.

I was told this by a guy at a party who says his family cooks these crustaceans on a regular basis. Crustacean is a nice word. It implies crust and ocean (the two intrinsic components of the animal) without sounding overly silly. Crustocean.... wouldn't work.

I'm not sure the level of beer* the fellow had attained prior to our conversation, but he was overly serious about the truth of his statement. I asked him if he meant "...bunnies, I know bunnies scream," and he told me, "no, crabs. if you put enough of 'em in a pot at once, you had hear this strange high-pitched noise like screaming."

Then I told him a story about a little girl who got electrocuted (non-fatally) by unplugging a refrigerator. She managed somehow to begin to scream and maintained the same frequency until she was found by her family. He laughed. She didn't die from it. I told him I don't know if she's died since, but we can laugh because at the time the story was told to me, she was fine.

I suppose I keep this blog to remind myself how morbid my day-to-day interactions are.


*My speculation on the level of beer refers not to whether he was accurately depicting his established memories, but to whether he would normally converse about such morbid matters or if he was less opposed to discuss them due to the booze.

"You're Full of Hot Air"

"Is this a dream blog?" you're beginning to wonder....

Well, no, but starting at this point I plan to relate all new posts to DEATH in one way or another.

This post is about hell.


I keep dreaming that I'm trying to take a drink of something. Juice, water, even milk. And even if an inch, inch and a half, half the glass disappears.... I feel hot rushes of air on the back of my throat. No relief.

Relief is waking up. Deciding I'll try the gatorade, even though I think it won't work. Relief is cool liquid sugarlectrolyte soothing my mouth and finally the back of my aching throat.

This is what I think hell would be like. Hot air replacing a cool drink.

What's in a Name?

A rose by any other would smell as sweet.....

What about when people malign others', without giving them a chance to defend themselves?
Communication is said to be an art. I disagree.
Say what you need to say, in the gentlest way possible. Ask what you desire to ask in the most straightforward way, and then understand if it takes a while to receive an answer.
There are things I need to tell people, kindly, looking into their eyes.


I'm going to start. Before I die.

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