Drying the Creative Mud

Not sure if you've noticed, but I haven't posted in a long-ish time.

I'm to rectify that... by posting.

Sadly, I haven't much of interest to say, so today's post may end up being among the least entertaining posts in the history of the blogosphere. But I'm really just making this up as I go, so--who knows?--maybe it'll be hilarious.

Somehow I doubt that.

Poll: Was this flowchart a stupid decision?

"And that's all I have to say about that." ~Can you guess the classic movie I'm quoting?

So what have I been doing at old KU recently?

Mostly going to classes and trying to learn. Or learning and trying to go to classes. Or trying to go to classes and trying to learn. I highly doubt I've been going to classes and learning... 'cause that'd be too simple.

Speaking of simple, I have an English midterm test on Monday, and I'm only half-competent in the material, and I haven't finished reading the assigned text. I'm a winner! (I should get on that...) But, I'm fairly certain I'll do okay, because I love English, and I test well...and the test-prep session made the concepts of the last two weeks clearer in an hour than they've been made in the last two weeks.

I went in all "wtf is wth?" and I went out all "heh, I got this shit." ^_^ (*swag*)

My sister just differentiated between "vile" and "vial" and it got me to thinking... about vile vials... and bile... but that was just an afterthought.

So, if you haven't noticed, this has been kind of a "train of consciousness" post.

Speaking of consciousness, have you ever read "The Jabberwocky" by Lewis Caroll? It's a "nonsense poem" and is one of my favorite poems ever written. (Also an awesome poem is "Snowbanks North of the House" by Robert Bly.)

In appreciation of Lewis's Jabberwocky, I have composed my own nonsense poem. I share it here along with an equally nonsensical doodle. -_- (And I'm mostly making this poem up as I go... with a little memory of a poem I wrote once...)

The Bandriggle swives in periclitation.
Ye who behold, swaffed in bibation,
Sickled with rotgut, join the soirave.
Pink fwithers brustle agin' the known trave.

"...and that's all I have to say about that..."

Well, what did you expect after a poem like that???

And... voila!

So, Ciao, and go do some evil!

~Rafe

P.S.
No, you didn't miss anything. You are correct that the title has  nothing to do with the content.

P.P.S.
I'm sorry it's such a short/lame post. I'm kind of forcing it out... trying to get the creative juices flowing.

P.P.P.S.
Who decided creativity was controlled by juices? Why can't we "get the creative mud drying"?

P.P.P.P.S
Oh, there's the title...

The Legend of the Spider of Death (AKA "Can you find the iguana?")

Are you a sufferer of arachnophobia?

I am.

It sucks more than a vacuum cleaner.

And that’s a lot.

One night I was in my room, sitting in bed, and enjoying writing a story about someone or something or whatever. Pen in hand, tea by my side, paper in front of me… *ah* …the only thing that could have made it better is if the tea was soda and the pen was candy… and the paper a movie starring Eddie Izzard, Ed Helms and Will Smith. Let’s throw Keisha Castle-Hughes and Karen Gillan in there for balance.

(Of course I would still wanting to be writing said movie, and would need at least a $100,000,001.82 budget. I’m not picky.)

This film would be entitled: “Snow White Powder and the Seven Dealers” it would win all kinds of awards (including “Coolest Writer”) and make me famous.

Me getting famous:

While I was trying to get famous, I innocently glanced at the floor.

*Was that movement?*

I glanced again (this time not so innocently)…

*GASP!* IT WAS MOVEMENT!

It was a spider…

…of death.

But it wasn’t just ANY spider of death. This was, I shit you not, the biggest, baddest, baby-eatin’est son of an eight-legged, creepy, crawly, she-devil I have EVER seen in my entire life.

Then it began running towards me.

Now, let me take a moment to say that I know I suffer from arachnophobia. I know that what I actually saw was probably something like this:

But that knowledge doesn’t help me.

It doesn’t help me one bit.

What I SAW, What I remember seeing, what has been seared with a hot-iron into my memory FOREVER looked like this:

I was terrified.

I was Petrified.

Mortified.

Stupefied.

By a spider.

That was charging me.

I jumped up.

And I screamed.

Like a girl.

And it ran under my bed.

At the sound of my heart exploding, Behemoth, my brother—who was asleep in his bed across the room, woke up… ish.

He (kind of) opened his eyes and (sort of) looked to see why I was screaming like a banshee.

Of course, by this point, I was merely hyperventilating.

So he did this:

And then he went back to sleep.

I was (for all intents and purposes) alone in my room with a giant, man-eating demon sent straight from the bowels of HELL to torment me for my SINS!

There was a spider in there too.

Okay, I kid…

…the spider WAS the demon.

Somehow (I don’t remember exactly how) I escaped the bedroom with my life.

I was determined(ish) to defeat this atrocity of creation, and reclaim my right as the ONLY ONE who could hide under my bed.

But I needed to find something to aid me in my quest.

I went looking for a flashlight.

I couldn’t find the bloody flashlight.

Damn.

I stumbled on an electric lantern.

After I got up again, I took it into my room and tried to peer under the bed. This is difficult to do when you refuse to get closer than ten feet from the bed in question. (I wasn’t going to stick my face down there for it to feast on!) Luckily my bed is raised a bit high off the ground, and none of my blankets were hanging down. So I could see decently well as I looked for the beast below.

I didn’t find it.

The next day my mother brought a flashlight in from the truck.

FML

I still couldn’t find it.

Actually, I never found it.

To this day a demon-possessed spider dwells in my room… and I sleep on the couch.

Did you find the iguana?