Yes, it's Halloween, so I'm supposed to write something scary. But I'm not sure just what is spooky or creepy.
I think it's quite scary that some people really do believe in witches, demons and time-delayed curses that are corrupting your children tonight.
But I think it's scary that some people think Uri Geller isn't a stage magician, climate change is a liberal conspiracy and someone in Nigeria really does want to make you a millionaire, so what do I know?
So here's a selection of things about my humble existence, and you tell me if any of them gives you the creeps. Or the raving ab-dabs, or the screaming heebie-jeebies.
1) Last night I had the most astonishing sex in the world with a guy who considers himself "straight but occasionally bi". I asked him how a straight (but occasionally bi) guy could give such fantastic oral sex, and he said he practices - a lot - on women. But not as much as he'd like.
So there you have it, straight cunnilingueurs (that's a word I just made up) give the best gay blowjobs.
I like to think I held my own. Though I was actually holding his, just not with my hands. They were, um, otherwise occupied. Well one of them was - the other was quietly getting cramp, which remained completely painless until we disentangled.
He's a nice guy too, and during our post-langulolipal-glanofellation (another word I just made up) huggings, under the romantic full moon and warm night air (what?) I found myself thinking I could probably fall for him. But it's probably not a good idea to fall for your straight (but occasionally bi) fuckbuddy, so I decided not to.
2) You may remember that we have mice in the house.
We've got three dogs of a breed bred as ratcatchers, but they seem much happier as slightly pampered pooches that curl up all around you the moment you lie down. Occasionally they do see a mouse...and bark at it nervously.
I've got two mice in my bedroom. One is (I think) an occasional visitor from next-door via some permeable walls, and the other seems to live in the plumbing on the opposite wall. They're called Bert and Ernie, though for all I know they could actually be ten females who only appear two at a time.
They're soft brown hemispheres with tails and bright dark eyes, and I haven't actually seen either of them for weeks. But I can hear Ernie. Rustling around in papers and plastic bags, chewing on...something.
Is it the unspeakably greasy and tasteless fried chicken I threw away six weeks ago, that's still waiting to be taken away in a sealed black plastic dustbin liner in one corner? Is it the cardboard storage box of magazines documenting socialist theoretical debates of the 1970s - that I once in a moment of insanity thought I might scan and OCR?
I don't know. But like me, Ernie is an insomniac and night snacker, rootling around at odd hours of darkness inside something the rustles, pausing presumably to eat, poop and doze. But not, I think, breed.
I once found a half eaten bar of chocolate on the floor. That is, half eaten by me and the remaining half half eaten by small sharp teeth scraping away, leaving it looking like tree bark.
3) Tommorow is the start of NaNoWriMo, and I'm wondering if I should:
(a) Come up with a plot in the remaining two hours till midnight, then start writing,
(b) Admit to myself that my bedroom recording studio is not going to get any more ready no matter how many more final preparations I
(c) Go and have another one of mother's home-made chocolates, and then decide.
Oh yes, mother and me are on a diet, but it's slightly hindered by her newfound passion. Today's experiment involved mixing the chocolate powder from a dozen cappuccino kits with butter and peppermint oil, melting the result in with a block of cooking chocolate and setting the result in rubber molds from ebay.
Yesterday it was two thin layers of hard 70% cocoa chocolate sandwiching a dark paste made with castor sugar and various spirits, thickened with whipped eggs.
Tomorrow...will be even darker and more adventurous I'm sure.
So do I scare you? Am I deeply creepy or sleepily unfreaky? Would you let your daughter marry me? Would your daughter let you carry on with me?
Or are you the scary one?