Madwoman in the Basement Things have been settling down to normal and happiness in the last couple of days, thoug I am still ticking off the days on my fingers when this state will descend into the madness of my paper writing fury. On top of that, I somehow have to average about two thousand words a day to be in a healthy mode to complete Nanowrimo. All these jokes about head implosion don't seem so funny anymore.

I'm researching for my women's lit paper that is due in December, now, because an abstract is due on friday on it. And as I go through my six or so sources, I am finding that the topic of what I really want to write about is eluding me somewhat. I don't care about the women writers of the eighteen hundreds. Really really. I'm so certain that there is an optimal source out there on contemporary anonymity of women that it is driving me crazy to imagine it sitting on a shelf out of my grasp. Perhaps I even looked over it while grabbing garbage by Helene Ciroux. Argh.

"In other news, Peter has a breaking story for us tonight, focussing around a usually ill-reputed pet store in Kingsway Mall. Peter? Are you there?"

I went to Pj's Pet center yesterday, something I try to only do on fish related manners, but had to do because Elaugh needed some TV dinners, and it was the closest one to home. Of course, that entailed being Godzilla's shopping bitch, because she drove me there, but that's not worth mentioning anymore of.

After looking at puppies and fish, and skimming through the reptile section, I asked the girl to get me three adult mice out of the freezer for Elaugh. After inappropriately guessing I wanted to parade dead mice in a transparent bag through the Bay, she wrapped them up and charged me $9.60. We hate mice. We love mice. We hate mice when they're living, but they're dear to us dead; contorted in hideous frozen death throes- and we'll charge the shit out of them because they weren't pets that met with the stairs in a hampster- we raised them to kill them. Reward our efforts mmkay?

Trouble was, is that I didn't venture too close a look at them until I got into the car. And usually I do, because if it has a broken limb, I complain. No broken limbs, but apparently, someone has been injecting some of these mice with steroids before setting them loose on the wheel serving as their only joy before imminent...I don't want to know how they kill them.

This one mouse is humongous, at least four times the size of the other two. It is a big fat teardrop mouse, brown, and roughly the size of a snake proportionate automobile. A snake eating an automobile, picture that if you will. There is little doubt in my mind that Elaugh can handle it, her head is about the width of a quarter when she's not unhinging her jaw like a cold blooded hoover (something about decrepit prostitutes entered my mind here, but the thought was lost)...but...there is always a but...

What if she chokes on it? It is really hard, if not impossible to extract prey from the mouth of a snake. She wouldn't choke on it either, perse, because her trachea is pretty seperate from her esophagus, but I'm not sure if it runs the possibility of getting stuck maybe? And then what? Her furthermost teeth hook backward...like the tines of a porcupine quill...you get the picture. What goes in doesn't easily come out, possibly meaning the death of my poor serpent.

I'm starting to wonder if I should just throw my blogs into my novel....corner cutting? I think so... And then just blog the whole thing on december first in all it's network spasming glory.

I also decided today to incorporate some poetry into my nanowrimo. One part of me is wondering if I'm going down the soppy path of "feminazi" (as Fenton so aptly put it earlier) with all this, but then I step back and realize the disdain that I hold for most feminist writing (flowery touchy feely stuff) and realize that I'm on the brunt of something so much better. Feminism: the guts, the glory, the bleeding, the blatant misuse of men coupled with lots of talk of vaginas- the sugar coating licked off the whole thing by a lecherous green goblin with breasts and an affinity for the seven sins. Muy exciting.


  ¶ 4:17 PM