Neurotic Owl

flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread

In which I post a little something special for this, my 50th post, and then wonder what I’m doing with my life.

Not really.  This blog brings me and all five of my readers a certain amount of joy, so yay blog.  Aaaanyway. . .

He reminds me of the owl.

What owl?

The owl with the power.

What power?

The power to turn into David Bowie in leggings and boots, apparently.  I had the feelings for Jareth before I was old enough to know what the feelings were, although that moment in ‘Dance, Magic Dance’ where he leans into the camera and you get a really good close up of british teeth: classic edition did dampen my ardour slightly.  Still, Sarah totally made the wrong choice.


He’s fine, Sarah.  Nothing says good plan like a baby, breakable toys, and an infinity of Escher stairs.

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