(no subject)

I've spent the past three nights with my head buried in a short story that's flowing well enough that it can only mean one thing: 1.) It's not as good as I think it is, or 2.) I'm about to write myself into a corner at any moment. Possibly both, and it could all be the rat's fault if I keep 'im in there...

In the meantime, I bring you taxidermy art for the macabre at heart. (Disclaimer: No animals were killed specifically for these works. All parts scavenged from the roadside/found in the the wild/donated, etc. It's gristley, but rather fascinating.)

Assorted thingies.

So, this evening I woke from a dream that I was at a Rolling Stones concert to find that it was really just that my dad had hooked up his stereo and was playing the music so loudly that the band might as well be here. So I woke up to this:

Street Fighting Man

And this:

Then a bit of this:

And then A Snoopy Christmas, of all bloody things... He'd, um... had a beer or two, apparently. :-| On the bright side, at least it's good music. I rather wish he'd played a little Cream, as this song has been in my head off and on for a couple of days.

White Room

Also, while I have not written myself into a corner with the aforementioned short story, I have run a bit low on steam. May take a couple hours to veg before I work on it more...