A sampling of things I love, from tarot cards to books, internet video and review to decorating, cats to dogs, all in an easy to read form that will snuggle your brain into relaxation and hopefully laughter.
Why the Scientist Never Turned On His Radio : Welcome to Night Vale Headcannon
Sometimes, he thinks he should
call in. He could, he knows, he could call and call and hang up each
time knowing that the person, the man, on the other line would never
know it was him. Caller ID doesn't work here, nothing seems to work
here except your ability to call. And even that was weird. Sometimes
when he picked up the phone instead of a dial tone there was a
breathy voice on the other end asking him questions that were not
So he doesn't use the phone. He
doesn't want to annoy anyone either and most of all he doesn't want
to be asked those strange dark questions that he's never quite sure
he didn't answer.
He knew he could hear the other man's
voice, after all. His job was on the radio. He'd gone and seen him
there after all. He wished Cecil wasn't on the radio. The radiation
levels on his mic had been alarming.
Episode 8, Season 1. “Father's Day”
My yet again reviewing and commenting on the Doctor Who Series as I go along. This is for my Sister or anyone with too much spare time and a love of Doctor Who.
This thing has spoilers and if you have the patience to watch it with the show and, I don't know, put it in Morgan Freeman's voice or something, feel free as this is a literal minute by minute commentary of my impression of this episode.
There are also flying Dragon Vaginas mentioned.
There's a dragon-gina in that poster. The thing right over his head. It was alarming.
Minute 1: Immediately depressing.
Minute1.5: Rose's Mum is semi scary looking.
“Be careful what you wish for” Says nine. Because he's smarm if
smarm were a person who wasn't William Shatner.
Minute 2: Seriously, continuing with the depressing. Dear five year
old daughter: He was dead when the ambulance got there. I think her
Mom needs to rethink parenting methods.
3: The scariest thi…
I'm nearly ashamed to admit this but I wrote fan fiction. Well, sort of.
It's a fan poem for Night Vale and I don't really even like poetry. So when considered in the context of part of what I think Welcome to Night Vale is about, I decided poetry was clearly the way to go.
It pretty much fits with my sci fi theme that's been going on in this neglected corner known as my journal.
Anyway, this little clip of the Night Vale twitter is also the title. Woot for poetic license.
When I woke up the radio was on. Such a small fact. With such long strides reality had
folded to keep up with the speed.
My dog sniffed my hand. Such a sweet feeling. And yet I knew there would be no
glorious afternoons at the dog park. Outside I hear a crackle A not quite small sound. And I hope it's a deer, who despite
being terrible, deceitful, and vile also know math, telepathy, time
Or maybe I'm afraid And don't want to know. The radio