Books, bugs, and mysteries

Life moves apace, dear readers, and as per usual it's never simple. Exciting, yes, fun, sometimes, interesting, always, but never, ever simple. For starters, I'm literally drowning in books, both for pleasure and work. I've recieved a great many volumes from various publishers for my reviewing pleasure, which is fine, except for the small problem of these being rather large books. Combined with the huge amount of reading I do for my classes every single night the task of getting through any of them is more than a little daunting. I swear I will get to it, though. I just will have to take a bit longer than average, as after a certain point when I'm reading my brain goes into shutdown mode and refuses further input. *Deep, melodramatic sigh*


The bug life has also been making a nuisance of itself. The hallway of the Undercity - a collective pet name for the basement level in which my friends and I make our abode - is consistently infested with all manner of creepy crawlers. Assasin bugs, daddy-long-legs, centipedes (naturally), mosquitoes, and a host of unnamed monstrosities - all of which apparently have been using anabolic steroids because they are HUGE - regularly make us scream, run, and put our books to practical use as ideal bug killers. I chalk it up to the weather, as the dropping, autumnal temperatures tend to drive insects in doors, thus causing all manner of issues.

Also, the clanking pipes have finally come to a halt. That has not, however, brought an end to the late night noise. This time the sounds come in the form of a person, one who routinely returns to/leaves the building early in the morning, and opts to use the back door which is set to trigger an alarm if it's opened after 12 AM or before 6 AM. Said alarm has the power of a jackhammer and goes off till the door has been closed, usually by which point I'm disentangling my fingers from the ceiling plaster and trying to not have a heart attack. Who this person is remains a mystery, though I am busily compiling and correlating the incidence of the door's opening and hope to be able to bring this to a halt in the near future. Because either they cut it out or I feed them to my shoggoth. Their choice.

Life at Miskatonic

Now, just for the record, I think we all know I do not attend THE Miskatonic University. I do, however, attend a tiny college in the arse-end of nowhere, which happens to possess some very interesting books and is surrounded by a town full of people who are one generation away from developing the full blown Innsmouth Look. So it serves my purposes and attempt at privacy to refer to my school as such.

This year I'm living in a single in a 1920s era building, with plenty of privacy but also with some very like minded neighbors (I think a lovely young lady name Azenath moved in at the end of the hall), which serves my purposes nicely as I'm hoping to continue my reanimation experiments and I need assistants and - oh I'm thinking out loud again. Ha ha. *cough* The room is quite small, as my pictures indicate (see below), but it's excepitionally comfortable and the close proximity to like-minded human beings (and not so human beings) provides comfort and security.




My classes are also finally ones that go towards my major, including history and art history courses. I've had to buy a metric shit ton of books, all of which weigh so much I'm more than a little convinced they're made of depleted uranium. And don't get me started about my Latin copy of the Necronomicon. I could beat shoggoths to death with that thing.

Hopefully a new review will go up in the near future, I'm just trying to solve some issues so I can actually see the film Nickel Children, and if you haven't watched the trailer for it yet hurry up and go do it.