Last night, I was in the middle of my business. Making sure not to step on crickets coming up from the drain, making sure the spiders weren’t descending onto my shoulders. And a huge crash came from the living room.

Into nothing. The RE-20 mic I love to sing on most had fallen over, smacking the conga on the way to the ground. (that’s right, I said conga)

The nights up here are perfect monuments to endless unknown. In that, the nights are also mind-bending. And this is after hours of hearing hooves and scratches while reading about parallel worlds. Shapeless creatures creeping all around me in the moonlight. Always with the wind howling, the owls owling.

I don’t know. I think it has prove I’m not entirely useless.

Because in a bad situation, you can count on me. I’ll be able to bust out at least a couple distracting punches while the rabid maniacal mountain lion eats my face. While you run for safety.

(photo by K.B. — yes)