I intended to be in bed long ago, but I found myself distracted by Lord of a Visible World, a biography of H.P. Lovecraft pieced together through his correspondence. While I certainly can't sympathize with most of HPL's ideas, I do admire his fiction greatly. "The Strange High House In the Mist" has to be one of my favorite pieces of writing ever.

You know what's also good? Ulver. Those dudes can crank out some utterly mind-blowing stuff, music that seems much more than music, music that's actually a strange film being projected against a scribbled blueprint pasted to a wall somewhere in Oslo, in front of which all manners of characters pass, smoking cigarettes, staring sullenly at the streets or the firmament, drowning in lost love... everyone owes it to themselves to go purchase Perdition City, posthaste.

I can't figure out how to link this damned thing (this "blog," as it were, though I hate that term) to my email in such a way as to give any chumps who read this a chance to write me back, so until I solve that puzzle, I'll just put my email address here.

Good night, world, and don't let the whirlwind of corpses in Iraq get you down. If it's any consolation, and it's really not, this sort of fiasco has more historical basis than most of us realize. After all, humanity's hardly a rational creature, and why would we start acting otherwise now?