Yesterday was very productive. I did a Digger, wrote a page or so on Wurstbreath, fooled with the website, and did a painting.
Then Kevin and I went to sushi with friends, and to a friend’s drinks night, where I drank enough absinthe to become an honorary French Impressionist, and became embroiled in a discussion of that age old question–how do Smurfs reproduce?
We went through the usual theories about asexual budding and magic, and then I had the great geek epiphany that in some ways, the Smurfs resemble the first bit of Dan Simmon’s Hyperion, and somewhere there must be a smurfiform parasite keeping them alive. This struck me, in my alcoholic state, as genius. (Or, as my buddy Badger said "You’re proposing a Smurf-Hyperion pastiche–god, I can’t believe I’m saying these words–!")
Meanwhile, behold the terrifying power of: