Wordcount and typically weird conversation

Section 111: 856 words. 1630 total. Done. I am no longer quite so pathetic.
Section 112: 48 so far. Still going.

Whitney writes a first sentence. The page is no logner blank.
I say "48 words, that sentence."
Edison (humanx) dances and throws pretty confetti.
Edison says "Now, find the elephant."
I say "I've been staring at this blank page for at least three hours. You have no idea. --It was under the front seat of the car. I gave it to my father."
I say "And the reason I could come up with that response so quickly is that it's the complete truth."
Edison says "Oh, I figured it was something like that. My celebration was entirely non-sarcastic. I did forty years of hard time once for murdering a blank page with the power of my hate rays."
I say "I gather your forehead did not bleed obligingly."
Edison says "It turns out it's my eyes that want to do that."
I say "Hrm. I wonder if that's good enough."
I say "Is the gut doing any better?"
Edison pats it gently. "Most systems are back in the green, though demanding food one of these days."
I say "Is its attempted mutiny explained?"
I say "Were you sick? Did you consume insurgent tuna fish?"
Edison says "No idea. I'm thinking probably cancer, or maybe leprosy."
I say "Well, get plenty of fluids."

Also, got a huge number of MP3s teinedreugan's ripped off our CD collection transferred over to my machine. Like, over a gig. Including what I'm listening to now, which I don't think I've heard for years.

Had that moment of freak-out crisis realisation that my flight to Cali's in about twenty-four hours and I have no clues. I at least have a little clean underwear due to laundry today. Must check for sufficiency, pack, stop going "Agh!"

Agh! Agh! Agh! Agh! Agh!

Must do more laundry! Mongo want underwear! Packing stalled on insufficiency of clothing!

Agh! Agh! Agh!

This stupid computer won't read one of my Moody Blues CDs to let me have more of my music and it flaked out in the middle of snagging Presto. Will have to find the other copy of the one and maybe use teinedreugan's machine on the other.

Agh!

On the other hand, explaining Eggy Rice Thing to elynne in kitchen_retards has given me an urge to eat Eggy Rice Thing, so quickie grocery run when teinedreugan gets home will produce food and num.

And I just found The Bathhouse at Midnight and my gods-be-feathered Morenz. (Which reminds me, I hung a shawl over the shelf I'm using as a naos at the moment and think that made Everyone happier. Sort of beige, not white, but close!)

On the gripping hand: I'm going to Cali to visit brooksmoses and suzimoses and to attend PantheaCon. I may or may not be around regularly, for those who are used to my perpetual presence online. ;)

annwyd says "You're going away to a land of less convenient net connection? No!"
I say "Yeah. Silicon Valley."

May see people I don't usually see, though I don't know what my schedule is going to wind up looking like. May not update this again for a while, depending. So long, Earth; see you on the flip side.

Conversation snippets

Me: Remind me next time I write something in the near-real world, like, modern, to have a garage band called "Alberich and the Gnomic Utterances."
teinedreugan: Where did that come from?
Me: They're discussing midgets down there.
teinedreugan: Ah.
Me: Is that enough to make it make sense?
teinedreugan: It's enough to say where it came from. Nothing is enough to make it make sense.

Though actually, I might use it for The Chosen. It's the sort of thing that James would do.

If you were a semi-involuntarily shapeshifting-into-a-black-horse-with-glowing-eyes teenager with the personality of Puck, what instrument would you play?

Addendum:

Me: So, what would James play?
Him: Coconuts?
Me: . . . you are aware that he's the one that turns into a horse, yes?
Him: Of course.