Spotty Logic (spottylogic) wrote,
Spotty Logic

Late night in the House of the Lord...

9:30, in an empty church, where countless lost souls--physically, not spiritually--have been unable to find the sanctuary they seek. Construction has made my oaken desk and carpeted nook a weird, slightly Gilliam-esque office island in the middle of a seafoam-green tiled hall that is almost exactly like my junior high school, except that nobody's trying to stick pencils in my hair.

In the last hour, I have pointed seventy people down the same hall, wherein they may, or may not, find God. Strangely, only thirty have come back. Perhaps God was hungry?


2:30: Checked all four e-mail accounts. Tried pressing "refresh" a few times. Didn't help, still no messages. Tried sending myself one, but the spam filter trashed it.

3:30: Found several friends' livejournals. Have been favorably compared to Vioxel. Had been under impression that Vioxel was a skin-care product for teenagers. Google is not forthcoming with information on this subject. AskJeeves says Vioxel is a 43rd-level wizard.

That seems reasonable. I'd hate to be compared to skin cream, favorably or unfavorably.

4:30: Went to Wendy's. Was briefly struck by the idea of a poem comparing the smooth, rounded and tanned bun of a Jr Bacon Cheeseburger with the bunching and stretching of the muscles of a gazelle or some other african prey animal, which is also roundish, tan, and undercooked. This may be a "keeper."

6:30: Met a strange man wearing an outfit of rags and patches. Says he knew Mr. Kurtz. Says Mr. Kurts got lost trying to find the evening church service, but may have established some sort of trading base near the machine room.

7:30: I asked for Diet Dr Pepper. This is regular Dr. Pepper. The horror, the horror.

9:00: Still no e-mail.

9:30: Auliya helps me get onto LiveJournal. Wheee :)

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