I'm in Los Angeles, everybody.

I'm not quite sure how to think about it.

I know that I've turned into a beast, which is scary, but driving in this goddamn town is no picnic either, I can tell you that much.

Yes, hearing the snap of your own jawbone as it seperates and extends outwards to accomodate a rapidly growing snout is a little unsettling, but it doesn't hold a candle to driving out into a busy intersection and trying to figure out which option of the three way fork on Lankershim will correctly lead to to Vineland.

I almost had a goddamn heart attack.

I know they say that the only thing that can kill a werewolf is a silver bullet, but that might be becuase Lon Cheney Jr. never had to navigate Los Angeles traffic in a rented Miata.

Christ, I miss the subway.

Anyway, I'm staying with my friend Kristin out here (not the ex, an actress friend of mine).

I tried to tell her about what I've been going through, how I've been recording it on this blog, and how I have this meeting and she gave me a big hug, kissed me on the cheek and said "Wow! that's a GREAT idea!" I tried to explain it a little more, and all she said was "Sweetie- horror is HOT HOT HOT right now, and you are onto something!"

I tried to explain myself a little further, but I figured it wasn't worth it.

Plus, there's not a full moon until November 26th, which means she isn't really in any danger. Also, thanks to whoever that person was who came up with the urine soaked rope for me to write with. It works like a charm, and means I'm not pissing all over Kristin's carpet.

The 26th is problematic though, as I was planning on being in Maine with my Grandparents for Thanksgiving, which is the 25th. It's stressful enough making conversation with my extended family, now I have to worry about eating them?

Who knows though, if I have to turn into a ravenous beast, the day after Thanksgiving might not be the worst time for it.

I mean, think about it, there's a good chance I'll be full.