Both of us need it like Hell

1. I slept ten hours last night. I think the last time I got more than six was in September. Today I'm kind of reclusive and slightly burnt out, but still rather happy. I may go out anyway, just to see what happens. There's sunlight.

2. ratatosk has taken to referring to my persistent belief that other people automatically find me boring/brain-dead/annoying as "Tiny Wittgenstein on My Shoulder." He is apparently modeled after Tiny Carl Jung from Dresden Codak (which I still haven't read), but I flashed on the personality sprites from Narbonic. I'm not really sure what I could promise anyone who felt like drawing me gloomy, winged chibi Wittgenstein—probably in his leather jacket, looking glumly agonized—other than a profound apology, but it seems to be a concept I really like. Also easier to integrate into a conversation than yelling "Wittgenstein!" every time I notice I'm apologizing inappropriately, because that way lies Basingstoke.

3. Speaking of which: Is that descending figure that opens the overture to Ruddigore (1887) a deliberate callback to Saint-Saëns' Danse Macabre (1874), or is it just me? I was humming the one when I realized I'd switched to the other.

4. I have been eating the hell out of the durian candies sharhaun brought back from Singapore—I got a package from him after The Lighthouse, when he found out I actually liked them. They were delicious and short-lived. I have no idea where I am supposed to get more.

5. I hope someone at Badass of the Week sees this obituary. "To please his mother, who did not take kindly to his being a pirate, he briefly managed a mink farm, one of the few truly dull entries on his otherwise crackling résumé, which lately included a career as a professional gambler."

I really did have a spectacular weekend. I had a good week. I think the week before that was pretty good, too. (Before that was the hell-cold.) It really feels like I shouldn't sneeze or I'll break my life, but I am enjoying myself.