I went to see Batman Begins last night. Very good!

I started running again today. Now I’m juggling a mess of things that I’m very behind on from being sick last week (I’m pretty much better now…except for a cough that got violent enough to let me know that my rib injury during stage combat class did not, in fact, heal…maybe I should get that checked out).

In the hectic haze of it all I still find dark delight in the knowledge that I am a key demographic for a particular…flavor of laundry detergent. CHEER: DARK FORMULA (sounds like a movie title) – designed to keep your blacks blacker and your darks darker. Finally, the laundry detergent made for me!

I’d love to have a similar lable on my books in the future: Joshua Alan Doetsch fiction – designed to make dark darker…

My laundry is going now. I’ve never been excited about my laundry…but just knowing that my cloths are swirling in that black ichor, getting blacker, churning and cleansing darkly…


ichor n : a thin watery or blood-tinged discharge also : an ethereal fluid taking the place of blood in the veins of the ancient Greek gods

“It is over,” proclaimed the square jawed hero to the now rescued damsel, as he stood over the twisted corpse of the vampire fiend, stake sticking from its bleeding chest; but as the black ichor bled from the wound and pored and pored and pooled, as it dribble towards the hero and the damsel with preternatural patience, as it seeped with dread purpose, as it flowed with malevolent intelligence, as it reached up with dark tendrils, the hero realized, with a gasp, that there would be no happily-ever-after.