Neil Gaiman's crazy.

If you saw our Wiki page on a post or two ago (go look; I'm too lazy to get the link again), you know that Neil Gaiman lives amongst us Menomonites. In fact, he's spawned a few children - one that I think rocks and one that I think needs an ego check (and I won't tell you which one I think is what) - that I happened to attend high school with. Of course, I didn't find out until after high school that he walks among us and even then, I was all, "Neil Gaiman, who?"

Of course, over the past couple of years I've become acquainted with his books and his various movie adaptations of such (I love Mirrormask) and this weekend I saw the latest one, Stardust. It was good. Inventive. A very 'Neil' kind of adventure that you can glean came from his crazy, English mind even if I you haven't read the books. C'mon. Look at his hair. He's OBVIOUSLY got a screw loose.



I'm really hoping the next time I'm home that he's loitering around in Acoustic Cafe (because that's where all the tortured artists go to gather inspiration) so I can stare at him from behind ratty, curtained hair.

Hey, the hair obviously helps him. Why shouldn't it help me knock Tori Amos off her pedestal and appoint me his new muse?