I Have Traveled Far...

...and seen nothing.


I've been having strange dreams, lately. In these dreams I've met people who were too good for this world--poets who starved with one hand on a quill, playwrites murdered in bitter feuds, authors driven mad by their own brilliance. These people deserve my company, as opposed to some.

My apartment was cold, and I was listening to Belle & Sebastian while under a blanket on the couch. The cool hand of sleep tugged at me, and I felt my limbs slipping into the slackened indifference of unconsciousness when my left thigh began vibrating.

"Stickshifts and safety-belts,
Bucket seats have all got to go,
Cause when we're drivin' in the car,
It makes my baby seem so far."

Alan's ringtone, by which I mean the song that plays when Alan calls my phone. If it had been anyone but Alan calling, I would have thrown it into a chair across the room and moaned until it stopped ringing. But Alan doesn't call me more often than I'd like to talk to him, and nowadays he doesn't call me much at all, so I figured I ought to answer it.

It was just three days ago that I'd decided to stop leaving the apartment more than absolutely necessary, by which I mean never except to get food. I'm really disgusted by humanity these days, plus I really need to write a fucking fantastic short story, so I figured the best option is to drop out of society. Then Alan called and now I'm doing his radio show for him on Friday.

I can't really explain what happened. This is exactly the sort of thing I should be avoiding, broadcasting my own voice out into the world! Yet, I couldn't resist the chance to somehow alter the minds of the select few who listen. Fear me, for I am armed with Media.

So, uh, tune in?

That is all.