A coffee cup sticks inside a black car.
There's an extra half hour across town.
Scientists send porn to a distant star.
Alien mollusc frowns turn upside down.
There's a stellar extension cord at home.
Day's red suitcase holds the dawn's noodle hand.
Half of all water's under Epcot's dome.
Hats wear plastic trumpets in backwards land.
Cranberry bullets are clear as copper.
Atomic candies bide their digestion.
Dizzy new stories from Hedda Hopper.
Living readers are weak to suggestion.
Invisible webs tickle a cat nose.
To a sushi place the sombre fish goes.
The sheriff stopped by my parents' house yesterday looking for me. It turns out the guy from last week had indeed gotten stabbed--it wasn't self inflicted or an accident, though apparently the cops still know little else. The guy is alive. So while I was blogging about War and Peace last week, someone was nearly murdered a few yards away from me. I guess there's more going on out there at night than rabbits, snails, and cross-eyed cats.
I'd told the cop I wouldn't likely be at my parents' house, though I am registered at that address. My mother gave the sheriff my cell phone number, despite the fact that I'd already given it to them, and I haven't heard from them. I'm getting an impression of a lack of any feeling of urgency on the part of the police. But my mother said the sheriff seemed like a nice lady, and I think she's probably the little old woman I saw talking to some little kids at the grocery store a few weeks ago.
I guess there's no real need for any serious investigation. I guess the worst that could happen is someone else gets stabbed . . . hmm. But I could be getting the wrong impression. Maybe it's just that they sense I really know nothing helpful, and they'd rather not waste their time pursing this line.
I grew up in this town, and I'm not really used to thinking of it as dangerous. It seems pretty low key to me, but then I think about things like the body found in the dumpster near where my sister works or the shooting at my high school that drew national attention. It almost seems odd that I've never personally witnessed any serious violence here that I can remember. Though there are incidents of serious violence I've witnessed in my life that seem to slip my mind.
Here are some pictures of a spider I found in the garage last night;
Poor Snow walked right into his web three times. Here's a blurry, luminous Snow;