(no subject)

I went to bed at 11 o'clock tonight. I don't often have nightmares, especially ones that aren't visibly about the places where my psyche's a bit tender, and I never have dreams I jumpstart awake from. I was dreaming about being at our places in Texas, and about being attacked by a crocodile.

A CROCODILE. I KNOW, RIGHT?

But it was just small enough that it had got its teeth into my left hand and was thrashing around, ripping my hand up. Like, really going to town on it. I couldn't feel a lot of pain but I did feel some -- I suspect I was sleeping on my hand or something -- and I was lying there on our front drive screaming at the police, who kept circling the block past our street but didn't see me. In the defence of the police in my head, our street is very hard to find. I get lost in our neighbourhood all the time.

Finally the thing pulled my hand off -- I want you to think about the amount of typing I do, and then re-read the phrase pulled my hand off -- and I jumped awake. I'm pretty sure I swore a lot.

So, I'm sitting here on my bed, staring at my hand where I can still feel teeth digging in, for about five minutes, taking a break before I go back to sleep. And the phone rings. Remember my phone? The one that, when it rings, is the Daleks screaming TARDIS in four part harmony? It's loud and startling on purpose, so I'll hear it.

And I answer, because nobody's calling me at half past midnight on Sunday unless something's very wrong, and that much adrenaline makes you blind to little social reminders like "check caller ID".

And it is my brother. Calling me. At half past midnight on a Sunday night. To ask me for money.

Now, the initial thing to say is, it's good that he's done this before and already knows I hate and repudiate him, because it comes as no surprise when I tell him to rot and die and then hang up (usually he has his wife call me back and leave a message about how I'm going to hell). This is a ritual; it happens every six months or so. Normally he calls when it's a decent hour in Chicago. Maybe he did the math wrong this time.

Anyway. Aside from all that, I know there's a bit of the witch in my mum and events like tonight make me perpetually wonder if there's a bit of the witch in me.

I could do with more useful premonitions, mind you.

Back to bed for me. Thank you, internet, for filling my brief need for a therapist and/or spiritual advisor.

(no subject)

Good morning, and welcome to Radio Free Monday! Bringing you all the Good Deeds your heart desires, and a couple of other things besides.

Charitable Giving:
graduate_maria has a new round of auctions up!

The auction to support the Boston Area Rape Crisis Centre ends this evening, so it's your last chance to look and bid. This is in association with Shadesong's blogathon; 48 pieces of original flash fiction are there, just waiting to be enjoyed. :)

Chances To Win:
never_ender is holding a raffle! She makes custom My Little Pony dolls (even if you're not interested in the raffle, you should check out the awesome photos she's posted) and is raffling off the commission of a custom pony. Custom pony dolls can be quite expensive, so it's a bargain for the winner!

Things That Win Already:
sparkindarkness has posted one of the best critical satires of everday homophobia I've seen in a long time.

888mph, who you may remember was campaigning to Save The Baby Swifts, wanted everyone to know that the Ministry of Environment and the Ministry of Culture have successfully blocked the wall where the Baby Swifts were from being destroyed. Triumph!

This has been Radio Free Monday. Thanks for your time!

(no subject)

This is a direct textmessage transcript of R's reaction to my birthday gift of meat.

R: I came home from Indiana and my fridge is filled with food! *tear of joy*
Sam: Hope the guacamole stayed green.
R: Carnage. It didn't last ten minutes. Poor little guy never even had a chance.
Sam: I didn't think it would last long. Pace yourself with the meat!
R: Too late.
Sam: ...happy birthday, buddy.