I'm not sure I'm much likin' this whole new and improved blogger thang...it's so...sparse. And gray. Very gray. Hn.

Listening to Hampsterdance reminds me of the summer before last...I took a pottery class then, and spent most of my time at the shore against my will. Cousin Theresa introduced the whole family to Hampsterdance, though, and I started outlining concepts and plots for The Revolution is Over, Seventh Sword, IQ, and other random things. I started reading webcomics...Eversummer Eve, Boy Meets Boy, Eat the Roses, Exploitation Now, 8-bit Theatre, D101...that was when webcomics, like scribbles and blogs and the like were the 'in' thing. Mega-super-ultra-uber trendy. Kinda like webcliques, but I think those were on their way out at that point...I started writing Boffo again, intending to finish it eventually.

That was the summer of 2001...I remember that summer as the Summer of Unblocked Creativity. I had fun that summer, though at the time I think I was sulking a lot. Had to spent far too much time with my cousins and aunts and uncles and I hate doing that. But I drew a lot, and read a lot, and had so very many ideas, things that leaked into the beginning of school and were wildly contagious. I am, after all, a communicable disease.

*sigh* There was a point to this, honest!

So, Hampsterdance. Audio crack. They do a remix of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" which I once teased Kev with quite mercilessly. There's a song called "Even Hamsters Fall in Love", and you can guess how completely silly that one is. They sing the Chicken Dance. *D'oi*

In my manic summer of random ideas, I came up with the vague idea of a woman named Lacinia Emyrial (I was having a lot of fun with my obscure word generator, too) who was quite frightening and somewhat psychotic and worked as a bouncer in a dance club called...The Hamster's Wheel. I was fifteen, bored, and listened to Hampsterdance on a loop. Stop looking at me like that.

Most people just call it The Wheel, and it's something of a raver club, but rather upscale and caters to a somewhat more mature crowd. Not very mature, mind you, because the waitresses and bartenders all wear fuzzy ears and have whiskers. Instead of pole dancers, there would be wheel dancers.

I can picture all of this in my head, and it's a very strange acid trip indeed. The other bar/club that I've created is the Aurifex, which is Latin for gold smith and seems somewhat normal on the outside, but is really just as crackheaded- less upscale, much shabbier, more of a bar-around-the-corner kind of place than a screaming-neon-money-trap.

I really shouldn't be making dance clubs central plot points in any of my stories until I've actually been to one. Eh, well.

Whatever. I still think it would be a kind of neat idea, to have a club that played Hampsterdance every night...but then again, I'm deranged and squeaky. Eh, well. What can you do?

"Round and round we go..."