Another middle of the night, seemingly random, thought popped into my head as I found myself flashing back to using Prodigy back in the early 90s.

I have both good memories and bad. "Good" being I used to belong to a Quantum Leap message board where some of us would share QL fanfiction. It's the only time I ever remember writing something people responded to with encouragement. 

In the story Sam, "trapped" in the late 70s, and Al worked together to save a singer named Alison Blacksmith, who died young in the early 80s.

Details long forgotten are now in my head. She was loosely based (with much sincerity in my early 20s mind) on Karen Carpenter. The circumstances behind the fictional singer's death were different, though, as even back then I knew no singular event could be tied to or prevent (or simplify) eating disorders.

A few people wrote me wanting the second part, but I never posted it, as a week later I was banned from using Prodigy by my parents who had discovered I had also been using Prodigy as outreach for struggling gay youth (not officially titled as that back then).

My pen pal T. and I had not been corresponding in any inappropriate manner, but the way I accidentally came out to my parents could have been handled so much better. That was an absolutely horrible time in my life and yet I think of Prodigy now with both remorse and a weird kind of nostalgia.

 

I have been thinking about this a lot lately as I have been having extremely vivid memories of certain things. I don't necessarily mean high school (though sometimes I do) but specific memories in general. They become so real it's mental time travel.

The growing block universe, or the growing block view, is a theory of time arguing that the past and present both exist, and the future as yet does not. The present is an objective property, to be compared with a moving spotlight. By the passage of time more of the world comes into being; therefore, the block universe is said to be growing. The growth of the block is supposed to happen in the present, a very thin slice of spacetime, where more of spacetime is continually coming into being. Growing block theory should not be confused with block universe theory, also known as eternalism. (Wikipedia)

You can read about it more here:

https://www.abc.net.au/news/science/2018-09-02/block-universe-theory-time-past-present-future-travel/10178386?utm_campaign=abc_news_web&utm_content=link&utm_medium=content_shared&utm_source=abc_news_web

If you love horror, you just have to check out today’s WaPo’s Arts&Style section. I want to share it, but I keep hitting pay walls.

The best way to see it really is to grab a print edition of it, but it might be too late at this point to get a copy.

Baltimore County Public library lets you access the print edition version through the Washington Post app, if you go here:

https://www.bcpl.info/confirmations/validation-wapo

I am so pleased Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me is included. It gets so much hate and yet it’s one of the most unnerving movies I have ever seen in my life.

I woke up at three this morning, realizing I couldn't remember the last time I had my flashdrive, which contains pretty much everything I wrote from 2010-2019. 

Five years later, it seems weird that I suddenly thought of it, but it's one of those things you want to find before someone else does. One of the things on it is a 500+ page novel I wrote over four years that is absolutely God-awful.

"Are you afraid someone might find it and try to use it as yours?" the person I told asked me. I just laughed...a lot. Scoffed, is more like it. It was safe from that, I told her.

I've looked everywhere for it now that I realize it's gone. I'm glad my name isn't on any of the documents within it, but I still want to find it so I can dispose of it properly.

One thing I lost that I do want to find is one of my diaries. I kept diaries from 2001-2019 (no coincidence there...I just seemed to lose my faith in writing in all areas back then).

My 2008 diary has some memories I really want to look out but I can't exactly bring to mind on my own.

As a senior citizen she retained her deep love of disco and began solving murder mysteries, eventually writing a memoir called The Name of the Dame…

 

(Very rough draft)

The Name of The Dame

Chapter 1: The Glittering Clue

In the heart of London’s swinging '70s, Lady Penelope “Penny” Featherington was more than just a socialite with a penchant for sequins and bell-bottoms. Beneath her bouffant hairdo and oversized sunglasses, she harbored a secret: she was the city’s most dazzling detective.

One evening, as the disco ball spun at Studio Groove, Penny sipped her gin fizz and surveyed the dance floor. Her eyes caught a glimmer—a rhinestone earring, abandoned near the DJ booth. It was no ordinary earring; it sparkled like a thousand Saturday nights.

“Disco divas don’t lose their bling,” Penny mused, slipping the earring into her sequined clutch. She swirled her hips to the beat, her platform shoes tapping out Morse code. The message was clear: “Investigate.”

Chapter 2: The Case of the Vanishing Vinyl

Penny’s next mystery led her to Vinyl Vortex Records, where the owner, Mr. Groovy McSpinster, wailed like a broken record. His prized disco LPs had vanished—poof!—right off the shelves.

“Someone’s pirating my Bee Gees!” he cried, his paisley tie askew.

Penny twirled her feather boa. “Fear not, Mr. McSpinster. I’ll find your lost tunes faster than a disco ball spins.”

She followed the trail of glitter to a nearby alley. There, she encountered a suspicious figure in flared trousers, clutching a disco ball like a forbidden fruit.

“Caught you red-handed,” Penny said, her voice as smooth as a Barry White ballad. “Why steal vinyl when you can dance to it?”

The culprit confessed: “I needed a mirror ball for my living room.”

Penny winked. “Disco crimes deserve a groovy punishment. You’re sentenced to a dance-off at Studio Groove.”

Chapter 3: The High-Pitched Heist

One moonlit night, Penny received a frantic call from Lady Beatrice, the Duchess of Funkington. Her prized disco tiara—a glittering masterpiece—had vanished from her mansion.

Penny arrived at the duchess’s estate, her afro teased to new heights. She inspected the crime scene: broken mirror shards and a trail of glitter leading to the garden.

“High-pitched noises,” Penny deduced. “The work of a cat burglar.”

Sure enough, in the rose bushes, she found Sir Fluffington III, a tabby with a taste for disco glam. He wore the tiara like a crown, shimmying to “Stayin’ Alive.”

“Caught you, Sir Fluffington,” Penny said. “But I’ll make a deal: return the tiara, and I’ll teach you the Electric Slide.”

Epilogue: The Disco Detective

And so, Lady Penelope Featherington danced her way through mysteries, solving crimes with a twirl and a shimmy. She became a legend—the Dame of the Dance Floor, the Queen of Clues.

As Studio Groove played its final track, Penny leaned against the bar, her earring sparkling. She whispered to the bartender, “Keep the disco alive, darling. And remember: life’s a hustle, but the beat never stops.”

And with that, she vanished into the neon-lit night, leaving behind a trail of glitter and unanswered questions.