So, my stalker has resurfaced, here on LJ. She has “friended” me. Bleah. I think I shall neglect to return the favor. This fruitbat is the one who hears voices,and nearly drowned her offspring and attempted to move in with me at their behest… not mine.

Busy, busy voices.

Please, go away. If any of you know who she is, I must insist that you do NOT address her about it. She is beyond your help, and the best thing I can do is never engage her, never respond to her and not be brought to her attention. Any contact or mention is fitted into the erotomania, and woven into the fantasy framework of the “relationship” she believes exists. Even the most kindhearted of you, take heed: We are talking deeply crazy, beyond logic and well beyond your means to help her, unless you are a large and eternally renewable bottle of antipsychotic medications and an armed guard.

She is the living rebuttal to Ken’s recent LJ post. THAT’s why a friends list, pancho.

Later, a trip to wallow in the mud with some friends, then collect my animal, some food, and off to see Serenity. What more could one want?

Actually, there is a phenomenal answer to this question, courtesy of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere:

“What” asked Mr. Croup “Do you want?”
“What”asked the Marquis De Carabas, a little more rhetorically, “does anyone want?”
“Dead things.” suggested Mr. Vandemar “Extra teeth.”