2002-02-24 9:45 a.m. Yesterday, a postcard from my wandering brother-in-law arrived. His handwriting is tiny. Though I'm not sure, I picture him dipping a metal pin into an inkwell so as to fit as many words on a postcard as possible. The image on the front of the card: a kraken, giant squid-thing with tentacles, pulling sailors off of a ship's deck and tearing the masts down. The gist of the back of the card: he's been reading a book a fellow sailor named Carlo has been writing. It's about a young man who lives in a metropolitan city, dealing with the stress of urban life and a peculiar curse. Since a childhood incident, the book's protagonist has been a unique variety of lycanthrope: a were-telephone. The cursed man lives with a supportive girlfriend and his mother in a small apartment. Once a month, the transformation takes over and these two women stand guard over him. They, the women, live in fear that one month, the telephone that he's become will ring. Who could be calling? |
1. today is nice 3. happy yesterdays 8. thanks for hosting 4. doing other things |
(Proof that I am the only one reading.) |