Welcome to Night Vale

If you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget.

Alternately, if you see something, say, "Something."

I just listened to 17 straight episodes of Welcome to Night Vale. That brings me up to episode 19A. I may be a little obsessed.

Okay, so fire_juggler blamed analise010, but I blame fire_juggler. I was doing just fine, thank you very much. My fandoms were under control. Hannibal was the newest, but I still haven't found my sweet spot with the fic and I'm not that great with tumblr yet, so it was pretty low key. And then fire_juggler posted this.

And I was curious.

So I downloaded the first episode.

And Cecil's voice lulled me into a state of calm acceptance of life's inherent miseries, up to and including an excess of sugar in sports drinks given to children and the possibility of a jetliner appearing momentarily in a school auditorium. Carlos's perfect hair and teeth like a military cemetery blinded me with their beauty. The hooded figures gathered in the dog park, but I already knew better than to look, because I knew not to think about the dog park. The dog park will not harm me.

That was yesterday. Imagine how much worse it is today, after 17 back-to-back episodes. I wrote an email at work today, and the voice in my head was Cecil. I actually used this sentence in the email: "And Midwest Regional Accounting spoke together in one voice and said unto us,'Please scan over the following invoice'."

Okay, that lacked context. Take my word for it that Midwest Regional Accounting was being a little ridiculous. And that the recipient of that email is familiar with my sense of humor. But still.

That is what the inside of my head sounds like right now. It's all hooded figures and unmarked helicopters and deer-skinned briefcases full of flies. It's strange and hilarious and intermittently flat-out beautiful.

The Internet informs me that this podcast, which has existed for a little over a year, has blown up popularity-wise within the last couple of weeks. I read the Daily Dot's report on it yesterday after I listened to the pilot. I'm glad I got into it at this juncture. I can't imagine the pain and horror of spending an entire year with glow clouds and invisible clock towers and angels all shifting things around in my head, and having no one to affirm me in my deep and yearning appreciation for the love-struck tones in Cecil's voice whenever he talks about Carlos.

Oh god. My poor husband. He doesn't know yet. How do I fake a return to my brain before Night Vale? How do I not be completely insufferable until I've detoxed a little?

And we're going out to dinner with some neighbors tonight. I don't know how I'm going to do this. Help.

Also, listen to Welcome to the Night Vale so you can a) join me in this beautiful Lovecraftian nightmare of a fandom, and b) read this post without wondering if you should contact my therapist on my behalf.