Bedroom Drum

Just before 6am, there was a spook house fog puddled around Pinckney Elementary.  And packs of ghost bunnies spinning their cotton tails.  Maybe you don't believe in ghosts, but you have to believe in bunnies.
At work, with arms itching from enzymatic foam & germicidal detergent, I was filling my ears with Amen Dunes - Through Donkey Jaw.  The album sounds like Animal Collective & Roy Montgomery at a seance, channeling Kendra Smith.  What, you say you've fallen for that line before?  Hmm.
Last night I finally finished re-reading Grant Morrison's run on Doom Patrol.  It's something I've been wanting to do before death or handicap prevented it.  Twenty years ago I probably thought it was the weirdest, funnest thing I'd ever read.  Now I see that the really cool stuff was happening behind the glare of all that strangeness.  At some point I may wade into the pool of internet obsessives who have ferretted out every symbol and reference, but for now--I just dug out a stack of Invisibles to start on.