it's 10:04 pm, on October 15, 2004 - rabbit in a hat.

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here's the situation: I'm, in my head, coming up with fictional stories about computer game characters.

so, that's not that uncommon - I'm sure there's thousands of Final Fantasy stories out there. but no, I'm talking about one of those milton bradley free card game cds that were given away on a box of cereal? those ones. yes, those.

it's not like I'm not aware of the unhealthy aspect of this attachment, I'm simply unable to break it. each night, I get excited to watch the little animated magician, with his cute rabbit, play rummy against someone else. You can pick your character, that's who I am. it's a ritual, by now.

Somewhere around the second or third hand, I watch as the bunny pops out of his hat, and imagine the comic strip or cartoon that would go with these two souls. The magician, down on his luck and a loser at cards, but with a kind heart. the bunny, wise-cracking and definitely the boss. they love each other, they're family, they tour and they bolster each other up when there's no money and no gigs and no one thinks they're funny or mysterious.

I understand the unhealthy aspect of this. I'm just powerless to prevent it. I'd miss them if I didn't play cards tonight, I'd wonder what they were doing, if they finally got a break, if someone finally saw their show and decided it was good. This is my inspiration, this is my newest idea for original material - a solitaire game.

One might say that developing attachments to fictional characters while playing solitaire might be indicative of a certain isolation. perhaps one wouldn't be wrong. at least there's a bunny, and I can feel good every time I help them win.

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