[The Exorcist steps]

Happy Friday the 13th

Dr. Menlo and I were in the other Washington over the holidays. During our trip, I was tickled pink to have been shown the Exorcist steps. F**ck the White House and the Capitol. I know . . . WHY DO YOU HATE AMERICA?! Of course I don't hate America. I just really love scary movies. When I was little (around 12?) I would watch as many as I could. My parents were really close to this family and I used to stay with them on the weekends. They had six kids, all older than me, which meant I got to see and hear things I wouldn't normally get to see or hear . . . like getting to watch Friday the 13th, Halloween, The Howling, Basket Case, When a Stranger Calls, etc. I loved it, that is, until it was time to go to bed. Then, I would curl up into the fetal position so that no part of my body was near the edge of the bed. One evening, after watching Blood Sucking Freaks, I was particularly afraid to go to the bathroom. I resigned to peeing in a cup, which I found on the bedroom floor. The next morning, I dumped the contents down the toilet before anyone was awake. I don't recall what happened to the cup.

So needless to say, when I saw the steps it was like seeing a celebrity for me. I ran, O.K. walked, up and down the old slate steps several times until I felt dizzy. I had a strong urge to climb atop the brick catwalk like structure, which eerily hangs above the steps, but of course I chickened out. However, Dr. Menlo informed me that a bike messenger friend of his did just that. Yep, he walked right across.



French New Wave Director

Another highlight of the trip was finding the wonderful pic of Godard, which was painted on the wall next to the bottom of the steps.




Laundry

Last November, I participated in NaNoWriMo, i.e., National Novel Writing Month. So along with thousands of other crazy people, I attempted to write a 175 page (50,000 word) novel in 30 days. I actually got pretty close to finishing, which surprised me. I was only short about 30 pages. The goal was quantity over quality so I decided to write a sex filled, campy thriller called Laundry-- inspired by my scary-ass basement laundry room. I'll probably put up a link to the entire story later. The following is a very short excerpt just for fun . . . or maybe not.

Kate took the wet laundry out of the washer and put it into the dryer, along with some fabric softener. She put four quarters into the slot. The dryer started up, sounding like a rolling drum. She stood there for a moment, sensing something wasn't quite right. Before she could move, her head was covered by a sheet and a hand pressed hard against her mouth. A man's voice whispered, "I'm not going to hurt you." She couldn't breathe, let alone speak. She struggled to get away, but the man just pulled her into his body tighter, dragging her backwards. Her feet kicked wildly and came off the ground. He pulled her into the room off the corridor and closed the door behind him. All was silent expect for the rolling drum of the dryer. The smell of fabric softener filled the air.

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