La. Well, this is a bit of a change from my usual brand/medium of ranting-ness... but why the hell not? I need to worry more about actual stories anyway. Ah well. Stop, breathe, begin again.

Je suis la Lapinne. Je m'appelle Rabbit. Funny ways of saying same thing. I live in a small, freezing apartement in North Carolina with an orange cat named O and an invisible mansion full of invisible people who tell me stories so that i will write them down, albiet with clever additional commentary. I work for a living. The manner in which i do this is the dispensation of frozen yougurt to irritating Southerners. By Southern, i refer to the majority of the inhabitants of the former confederate states of America. I do not mean to imply that I live at the North Pole.

I have had a day, and now i have a very short haircut and a puppy! it is only a stuffed puppy though. My O would kill a real one.

His name is Bruce. Well, William Robert Bruce.

hee.

Most of my invisibles- (the 36, seperated into 6 bands... no no no!) are elsewhere now. Alan-Arnaud is out with his vampric boyfriend, Stephen is about; looking dark and smoking in his shirtsleeves, the Grantaires are away, save the one i am sleeping on in ankhMUSH. Arguably, most of my critters- aphka, Bharido, thought-forms, whatever- are diabolical gay boys who are impossible to locate when they are... closeted? whatever, with their men. Well, most, anyway. There /is/ a girl, a couple of them, in fact. One even likes boys. Or a boy, anyway.

but that is another story, and besides, the Rabs is dead.

So what else is new?

Shut up, Caufield.

g'night, pixies.

<<agé chose>>

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