...holy crap, I could write ANYTHING. Write stuff I've never written online before! Let one of this building's cats take over the writing of an entry! Let myself speak in big-ass letters! Or really small ones. Write about the Clone War-era Oni-Wan Kenobi Pez dispenser I have on my desk (bought on sale at Things From Another World when the Hollywood neighborhood store was about to move about 12 blocks west) ...oh, I guess I just did. I can give you a reminder about leaving your radio on during the night: Leave your radio on during the night *. See? I CAN DO ANYTHING. For certain values of "anything."
* Speaking of, my dreams last night included Monty Python. Not only did I spend time on a pier surrounded by Naval vessels, including hovercraft the size of aicraft carriers, and not only did I have a dream adventure getting a print-out of a Dawn Taylor story delivered to Dawn Taylor (plus a rewrite I did of that story, and trust Dream-Me, both versions were good), I also wound up in BBC Television Centre, the big rounded building, in the 1960s. For some reason inside it looked like a modern mall with a food court, and for some reason supposedly the Beatles were wandering around, but also I stuck my head in to the studio where John Cleese and Michael Palin were pretending to be French scientists discussing (in French) how sheep can fly. And not only did my dream-self accurately recreate their performance, I also accurately recreated their studio audience being mostly bewildered at them. Also? I think I was a time-traveler, trying not to disrupt the timeline by being vewwwwy quiet.
This might be the longest footnote I've ever done on this blog. Longer than the entry's body. Again, I can write WHATEVER.