psybelle

Semi-productive this evening, in lieu of going out. I didn't tackle much on the infinitely long to-do list, but I did turn the turkey carcass into stock. And the visuals of fishing some of the bones out of the kettle made me realize that from some viewpoints, there's not much difference between a skeleton losing its softbits and a skeleton gaining some - zombies shedding flesh and ancient undersea shipwrecks gaining a shrouding of various growths....

Which slid into thoughts of something like the Flying Dutchman as a sort of zombie/hungry ghost, a lonely soul looking for company and a spark of life in place of brainz (if I ever write any more Lovecraft-ish stuff, that might be the seed).


But, of course, the musings didn't stop with one ensouled vessel. Whatever could we offer the Enola Gay if she came looking for absolution?