Friday, January 31, 2003

Thank you winamp, you're going to make me cry, doing stuff like that.

Stupid winamp, went and pulled Yuna on DDIO. That's just too perfect. At least it wasn't a Tidus skin, I guess...but if it were Auron, I'd be forced to write fanfic. *snort*
*floats away on song induced happiness*
Started to do a sketchy thing of Tanavir, then it turned into Asphodel (Broan finally gave me back my portfolio, so now Seventh Hour is even more on my mind, if that were possible...) and for some reason she's in some sort of strange playboy pinup pose (the concept of perspective will always defeat me- it was just so much easier to move her leg to the side and unbend her arms)...and naturally, when drawing Asphodel, I must draw Ereshkigal somewhere nearby, but since it's Ereshkigal, she's in an even more inappropriate pose...add my tendency to draw figures first, clothes later, and it looks like I'm drawing softcore.
*D'OI*
*sigh* It's that damn duology/symmetry/opposition of extremes obsession that I have, and the Innana/Ereshkigal myths personify that perfectly. Or rather, incredibly imperfectly; Innana was a trickster queen, swindling her father out of all his treasures; she got him drunk and made a toast, and asked for the secrets of metal, and earth; civilization, and sex; creation, and death. Enki, in his inebriation, gave her everything, and she fled back to her city accompanied by her loyal guardian, Ninshubur. Enki sent his flying monkeys after them, but Ninshubur was the original Xena and defeated them all.

Innana later put on all her rainments, all her armor, all the symbols of her power, and went to visit her sister in hell...Ereshkigal's husband had just died, and so Innana claimed to be going to comfort her sister. At the gate, they took her rod and staff, and at each subsequent door they took away more of her power until she met her sister, naked and helpless. She died. Ninshubur begged each of the father-gods to saver Innana, and one by one they turned her down until one finally agreed, and ordered Ereshkigal to give back her sister to the land of the living. Innana had gathered secrets in hell, secrets that none but her sister had known before, and she walked back from hell, retrieving her clothing and armor, crown, staff, and symbols of power. She was Innana, Queen of Heaven, now armed with all the powers of Hell.

See, back in the day, the menfolk all knew where the real power was- in the God-Wives of Egypt, in the Mother Goddesses of Europe, in the women. Innana bore no relation whatsoever to tame Hestia and petty Juno of later years. In some respects she resembles the original Aphrodite, the fertility goddess who made the sun rise with a toss of her hair- but Innana was no ocean born child of a mollusc, sprung from sea foam and Saturn's fallen genitals (they always leave that part out, you know- in the war against the old gods, they cut off his cock and it fell into the sea, and from the blood sprang sea foam, and from the foam, Aphrodite); Innana was the daughter of the King of the gods, and a chief goddess in her own right.

I love this stuff. Going back to the old, old days...primal and true and just as complicated as now. >:D
Aviator: one who flies, an operator of aeroplanes, a traveller on the aether thermals

avis; bird
viator; traveller
aviator; bird traveller; winged traveller; flying one; winged one

They call them aviators...
*inspired*
For some reason, I used to be quite fond of the name Grey for random characters...but now, not so much (*thwaps forehead for reference*). Have been browsing deviantart, since it's the best thing since sliced bread (and I swear I'll find some other comparative, no, really, honest I will- especially since I don't much care for presliced bread; it's so much more satisfying to cut yourself a nice thick slice of bread, slather it with jam, and make a stickey mess out of your fingers trying to eat it...) and have been suddenly inspired to think about that damn vampire story...I should explain.

That Damn Vampire story is now a part of That Damn Fantasy Story With Too Many Characters that is really four or five separate ideas that I decided to squish togethher. So, you've got the very thinly veiled fanfic, which is a combination of an ancient self-instert that I came up with when I was...six...I think, and the omni-smith idea (very rare class of magic user, a Smith is someone who forges magical things out of the elements, ie Wind Smiths and Fire Smiths and such...an Omni-Smith can do just about anything), and originally that was just one idea, involving very thinly disguised video game characters and Radrezyne, my oldest original character with a new name and extra angst. Then there was Tybarra's story, which was just a random elf story 'bout this chicky who got exiled and went on to do the whole adventuring, angsting, ass kicking thing, only she turned into a reclusive priestess and started acting really bitter when I incorporated her into this...then there was the Dragon Staff idea, which was originally a trilogy of things that I'd planned about Monsters and Earthbound and the Rift (big arse hole in the ground where all the dragon kin were exiled to after the War of Sky) and I incorporated Aralathe the lost Dragon Princess and her foster brother Valinus into the damn thing, and Ara went from being cool and independent and sex crazed to being whiny, sheltered, and scatterbrained, while her love interest went from being helpless and clueless to...young, helpless, and clueless. Poor, poor Alin. Then Blaze, from Tybarra's story originally, wandered in and decided to be Ara's cousin or something, I was never particularly sure on the details, and his original incarnation had him looking for his girlfriend and complaining about his father and all of his weird, prophetic dreams. The current incarnation has him clueless and silly, but fully aware of the fact that he is not, in actuality, human. He had some issues with the whole species thing the first time around. Then there's the vampire story, with Orianne the cross dressing archer mage, Tanavir the snarky demonic half vampire mercenary, and Nirvanu, the moronic, demon hunting, vampire hating, holy water toting, angry orphaned child raised by Evil. He didn't realize the whole town was a colony of vampires until after they tried to kill him (oh, so clueless, I always make my male characters so very clueless). At the tender age of thirteen he decided to become a professional demon hunter, and he's not half bad at what he does...

So, yeah. Lots of separate stories, all of them somehow intertwined, and I've no idea where the plot is going. The vampire story was actually based on a dream that was based on Harry Potter and D&D...But that's neither here nor there. Orianne the archer mage needs to get to the archery grounds so she can be tested (she's only sixteen or so, and isn't a real archer mage until they've tested her and given her a bow). A young girl, travelling alone, however, is a Very Stupid Thing, since chivalry went out of style with ruby tights in her world; she meets up with Tanavir in an inn at somepoint, and Tana decides to be Ori's Protector. Not sure if there's anything femslashy going on there, or it it's just Tana being kind...Tana's story is a little screwy, actually, though she doesn't feel particularly traumatized by it. Anyway, Tana decides to help Ori get to the archery grounds, and they both decide that it would probably be best if Ori pretended to be a boy until they get there, since two women, even when one's a demonic half vampire with a sword, are even more likely to be harassed than one woman alone. Go figure. So, Tana the Demon Vampire Mercenary and Ori the Cross Dressing Mage in Training set off on the road, and they run into Nirvanu at another inn. Or rather, Tana calls him out on the fact that he's swindling people in a drinking contest and tries to best him- only to find that, instead of normal water diluting his drinks, he'd been using holy water, and this leads to quite a few unpleasant things. Namely, Nirvanu chasing Tana halfway across the country side, to a lake in the middle of a forest (cutting off her hand, fracturing his wrist and spraining his knee in the process) until the sun rises, at which point Tana promptly clocks him with the pommel of her sword, since he was already gloating over the whole "Ha, vampire plus sun equals ash!" thing, not realizing that she's only a half vampire, whatever that means.

*takes a breath* And that was as far as I'd gotten. In the crazy story with too many people, they meet up with Valinus and Tybarra and they all go off questing to save Val's sister, whom he doesn't realize is actually not his sister, but a Monster Queen instead. (Long involved history lessons would reveal that dragons are more or less extinct; there's only ever one at a time, and she's always the Queen, and she always dies giving birth to her Trueborn Daughter, and the last one sent Aralathe off in a human shape with her last breath, and now that the Monsters are all dying of a mysterious plague, they figure it's high time they got their Queen back- only Ara doesn't really want to go back...) In the original silly vampire story, they go on to the archery grounds; Ori gets her bow and finds that she's actually one of the rarest kinds of archer mages, a gravity mage (only they don't call it that, they call it something else that sounds far more impressive); and then they go traipsing over the countryside killing Evil and such, until Nirvanu finds out who he really is, and Tana finds out what she really is and Ori decides that having a crush on another guy when he thinks you're a boy really, really sucks...Oh, love triangles. Ori falls for Nirvanu, who has a thing for Tana (never mind that he hates her for being Evil! and shiz...) while Tana does the whole obsessively protective thing to Ori that may or may not be romantically induced but probably isn't. *by this time, she was gasping for air*

And that's the silly vampire story.
Looking around, just looking...and I find a picture of myself in the strangest place. How deeply disturbing...because I know it's not me, it can't be me, I never wore that, I never looked up at a camera from that position, I would remember something like that happening...but at the same time, I know that it's my face, even though I barely even know my face, but how can it be? Where did this picture come from, with this girl who might be me looking up from the blurred and filtered pixels with a smile that could be mine curling up the corners of her face? How can this be? Surely, just a trick of the light, just a trick of photomanipulation, added graininess that seems to give her my features, surely...

They say that everyone has an identical twin somewhere in the world...is it fear that makes me wonder silently? How strange, how curious, how utterly terrifying...who can this be, and why? Who, and why?

I feel like I've just had a Moment, here...not sure what kind of a moment, but it most certainly was a Moment, no doubt about it. Writing this while listening to the new Coldplay song, "Clocks". It makes me think of sunflower petals and ice cream and spinning in the winter sunlight. My head feels fuzzy, and I truly am rather disturbed about that picture.

*oi*
?

Thursday, January 30, 2003

Brief Hunted Oceans moment:
Manikarnika, "Mistress of the Jewel"
Mandhatri Anoop Varun "Lord of Waters"

"When will you people get over this distressing tendency towards naming your daughters after flesh irritants coated in nacreous secretions?"
"As soon as you get over yourself and learn to speak like the rest of us, Varun. I happen to like pearls."
"Doesn't mean you should name your first born daughter after 'em..."
"Varun."
"What?"
"Shut up."
*sulk*
It was dark. It was dark, but it wasn't really dark, it was more like twilight, honestly, and if he squinted very hard he could see her features in the dimness- yes, dimness. It was dim. It was a dim and drizzly night, utterly miserable and utterly delightful and he wished he could see her more clearly.

Then, suddenly, he could.

"Do you know what your face reminds me of?" No preamble. He didn't need one- never had, never would. The world knew his name, would know his coming, would fear his coming. He would simply be, and would revel in the screams. "The Aztecs, or the Incas, or some people in Mexico or someplace like that. They believed that deformed and mutated things were beautiful. In Europe, they'd have gotten out the crosses and started exorcising the babies, but in Mexico they called the neighbors and threw a party, because the new baby only had one eye, or three toes, or six fingers, or it's skull was extra flat on one side. Blessed by the gods. To them, symmetry was ugly."

She looked a little annoyed in the newfound light of his eyes; it was still dim, but she glowed when he closed his eyes. He continued, moving closer, slowly. "To this society, to the modern world, symmetry is the ultimate goal. The one thing not even nature can get right- the perfect sphere, the equilateral triangle, the leaf from the tree of knowledge- they don't exist, but everyone knows they're perfect, like reflections in a mirror, only better. But you- all of us, really- we don't have that symmetry." He reached out a hand, though it was more like a claw in this light even though he knew it was just a hand, and she knew it was just a hand, he reached out and touched her face, tracing the lines of scarlet and black and firey saffron there. He smiled, like a child, which he wasn't though she sometimes treated him like one even though it infuriated him. Colors. She had colors. Of them all, she got colors. Lucky.

"Your mark covers most of your face, but mine, and Lucius' and the riders, ours are small. Your face is asymmetrical, like the Aztec gods. No symmetry. Blessed. Cursed." He was stroking her face, fascinated, like a child with a toy. So many colors, and all that red, like blood and fire..."Beautiful."

She frowned and swatted his hand away. "Never touch me again, Nero." There was no threat in her voice, no fear. Just quiet steel.

He snarled and grabbed her throat in a claw that bore only a passing resemblance to a hand- and found himself trying to wrap his fingers around the neck of a dragon, scarlet coils writhing all aroud in fury. He stood completely still, looking up into golden eyes that burned with a rage he could only barely contemplate. Contemplation was not necessary for control, though.

"I am your master, Serpent. Do not attempt to hold me in your thrall." Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, blood and gold and fury, and she was his to control...but never to own, and never to keep. He could lie to himself as much as he wanted, but she would never truly be his. He couldn't help but notice, though, that now she was perfect, a mirror image of herself, nature's abomination, utter symmetry.

"Master you may be, but never forget that I am the source of your power, Nero. You will not touch me again." She released him from her thrall, and then it was just the two of them, Dragon and Deceiver, in the drizzling rain. She gave him a glare over her shoulder and disappeared into the drizzle.

"Not without my permission, anyway..."

She'd forgotten that his ears were just as keen as hers. "Anything you say, beautiful serpent." Nero stood out in the lovely drizzle a while longer, delighting in the unpredictably falling raindrops the same way he delighted in the sight of his Dragoness' face. Completely and utterly asymmetrical.

Beautiful.
--------------------------

Ah, Project: Apocalypse, I knew you well, once...That's Nero, acting slightly insane, and Belinda (formerly Reiko, but I threw all my equal opportunity affirmative action mulit-cultural ideas out the window five seconds ago for the sake of a niftier name...*sweatdrop*) being herself. She's the only sane one in the entire group, aside from Cas, and maybe Therese. But they're Riders, and not quite in the same category...Mrr. Been thinking about extremes and such lately, then symmetry...P:A is just as symmetrical as all my other stories; I think, once I manage something that isn't quite so perfectly balanced, I'll feel able to call myself a writer. Until then...I'll do this. Something to pass the time, you know?

Wednesday, January 29, 2003

The cover of The Song, you know, The Song that makes me squeak and go teary eyed for the most juvenile and inexplicable of reasons, is done by none other than Sixpence None the Richer. Not Nickel Creek, but Sixpence.

I can't decide whether this is very cool, or very, very weird. I'd rather it were Nickel Creek, of course...but Sixpence will do. I heard it on the radio yesterday, y'see...I think I liked the guitar in the original better, but I like the Creepy Voiced Girl's vocals better than Neil Finn's. Less Australian. *sheepish* Almost makes me wanna listen to the scary abortion song, or El Viento...almost.
Today's blog brought to you by the letter "L"
L
L
sibilant half stop letter L. Lambent lolling lopsided L. Little lovely laughing L, the letter of love and lies, life and licentiousness, labor and law. Lifted up and lying down, licking lollipops and loving the ever lasting languorous lacksidasical feeling it lights up within. To be like the lilies is like living life lacking life; love life and laughter and lick lollipops and leer at other lewd things; err on the unladylike side of the law and delight in the light little leap to your step that a lapse in morals might lead to; linger on the lighter side and let the good times loll; live and love and laugh and relax in all things
L.

*twists tongue in knots* And I can't for the life of me remember what the L sound is called...it's not a sibilant, and it's not a stop, it's something that begins with an L and it's on the tip of my tongue but- lalalllalalalalalala. Never mind. It isn't important. Being silly and slightly moodswingy and listening to GoGo Cactusman- or is that Go, Go, Cactusman? Given that it's Cowboy Andy's theme song, it's probably GoGo Cactusman...right down to the boots. I used to want to be a pop singer, so I'd run around the house singing Lalalala all over the place, until the brother tracked me down and beat me over the head, which really only prompted more La. *snicker* I was a demon as a small child.
January 28

My god, I want to be Neil Gaiman when I grow up, just so these sorts of things can occur to me, as well. *dies* Not disarming!

Tuesday, January 28, 2003

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tommorow, no tommorow

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me

*refrain*
-Mad World, Tears for Fears
-----------------

A man walks into a bar, right? And he says to the bar tender, "I'll have some self esteem," but the bartender just goes "Sorry, man, we don't have that brand," so then the guy just shrugs and says "Whatever, I'll have some angst on the rocks, with a twist," and the bartender's like, "Nope, we're all outta angst," so the guy looks kinda frustrated and a little weary and asks "D'you have any exhausted melancholy? Everybody's got some exhausted melancholy." But the bartender just starts wiping out glasses and shakes his head. "Nope." "Well then what do you have?" The guy's desperate now, he's looking all withdrawl-y and shaky and stuff, and the bartender goes "Well, we got beer. And scotch. And all kinds of alcohol- you're sure I can't get you some alcohol?" But the guy, he's clinging to the counter now, he goes "Just a little post traumatic stress? Some suicidal doubts, maybe? Early childhood traumatic experiences? Anything?"

The bartender looks thoughtful and dives under the counter. He comes back up with a dusty bottle that's half empty. "This is all I got. Half a bottle of Stubbed Toe and Recently Deceased Pet."

"That's all?" The guy's more offended than anything else now, so he just shrugs and shakes his head. "Man, it used to be I could go out and get my fix anywhere in town, but now..."

"Hey, man, you ever tried bein' happy?" The bartender puts the bottle away.

If anything, the guy looks even more offended, and he's all like "What, happiness? Man, you gotta be kidding me! I don't do happiness- what do I look like, some kinda junkie? I'm just a little down on my luck, that's all!" And he leaves in a huff. The bartender just looks kinda confused and goes back to cleaning glasses.

This had no point whatsoever, but I'm not in the mood to do anything else.
*rampant depression*
sketchy piece of art. Gotta love them obscure characters...

Monday, January 27, 2003

tactics has bit me in the arse with an art-thwapping. here. Toasty, and that's all I've got to say about it.
Random Character Spotlight!
name: Gilgamesh (Marduk Archtype)
alias: Marcus
story: The Seventh Hour (what else?)
age: 24 in the beginning, 30 in the middle, haven't gotten to the end yet
appearance: Marcus stands around six feet tall, and is very imposing. He has a medium build, not at all slender or skinny but not quite burly or hefty; he is much, much stronger than he looks, though. His eyes are black (I think) and his hairstyle is simple, but a little difficult to describe. He has very long sideburns that are black, and his hair is shaved very short in the back, up to the middle of his ears, I guess. This, too, is black. The rest of his hair is medium brown and hangs in sort of spikily around his head. You can't see the back or sides that well in his picture (this is the one with the crappy background, but his hair still came out okay) but the front is right. He's very athletic, has a very sharp chin (not pointy, just sharp) and when he's all dressed up for the Seventh Hour, he looks almost like he walked off the set of Rocky Horror, only with more clothes on. Lots of face paint, especially around his eyes- but when he's not all painted up, he's fairly tanned. He rarely smiles, and tends to dress conservatively when not filling his duties as Priest.

I love Marcus. Can't really tell you why, but I do. His alias is a reference to Marcus Aurelius, one of the better Roman Emperors (all of the Priests are named after figures in Roman history), but his real name is a reference to a Babylonian (I think) legend about a guy who went seeking immortality. Marcus doesn't know this, of course, because he has no memory of anything before the age of fourteen or so. He just sort of washed up on the shore of the Fire Clock and was taken in by the clergy. He's lived on the island ever since, and has never been anywhere else in his memory.

What Marcus doesn't remember is that his mother, Ninshubur sent him away with his father when he was fourteen and that they were ambushed on the road to Uruk- Enkum was killed, and Marcus was thrown in the Tigris. He hit his head a few times. It explains quite a lot, really. He was born on an island in the chain called The Lady's Necklace. It's named after a constellation, and both the island and one of the stars is named after Marcus- when his name was Marduk.

Marcus is the reincarnation of a slave in Queen Innana's House some seven thousand years before the story begins. His name was Marduk then, and he was Innana's favorite slave- Innana and her people were the original inhabitants of the planet, but humans came along and attempted to invade, only to find themselves slaughtered and enslaved. That was maybe ten thousand years before the story began. Innana has a soft spot for humans, and for Marduk in particular (she named him after her long dead brother), but she rules them with an iron fist anyway.

It's safe to say that they loved each other, but Marduk was getting tired of the whole slavery thing. He led a rebellion against Innana, which was summarily crushed. One thing led to another, and Innana cursed them both- him to an eternity of fighting against oppression, and herself to an eternity of fighting against the one man she loved above all others.

Marcus doesn't remember any of this- he sees Innana in his dreams but can't remember her name, or his own name, or anything useful or important. He gradually recalls more and more of his past- only to find that at one point, he killed Innana (she's immortal, or close to it), thus dooming her to an eternity of reincarnation, as well. Not long after, in another lifetime, Marcus rose to power among the humans and became a tyrant, ruling over them much as Innana had...and suddenly their roles were reversed. Marcus (then once again called Marduk) built the Fire Clock and the religion surrounding it, while Innana (then reincarnated as a nameless slavewoman) created the Moonsworn and took back the ruins of her old House.

Marcus can't remember why he built the Fire Clock- the religion focuses around the celebration of death. Seven Hours to a day, with the Lost Hour in the very dead of night. The Seven Hours are dedicated to death, each one attributed to an aspect of mourning, or to the stages of immolation which a body undergoes while being burned (random bit of trivia: it takes seven hours for a human body to burn completely- that's the underlying inspiration for this whole mess). The Lost Hour is the only time of day during which life is celebrated. It's all very depressing and assumes that death is inevitable and that everything is pointless. After three thousand years, it's become ingrained in everyone, save for the Barren Moonsworn. The Barren operate on the assumption that at some point, everyone will be reincarnated as a woman, and that girl child will be unwanted, and will be sent to the Moon City, where they'll rip out her heart and turn her into an immortal undead creature called a Barren. When a Barren is killed, she isn't reincarnated; her soul is dead. The Barren are body slaves, for the most part. It's the easiest way for them to spy on the rest of humanity, and they are, for the most part, subdued creatures. Vata and Asphodel are exceptions to this, but they're both crazy.

Marcus doesn't know any of this, aside from the legend, lore, and history of the Fire Clock, until someone destroys the Clock and Asphodel (a Barren who belonged to Amulius and was given to Marcus) takes him to Uruk, the Moon City.

I love Marcus because he's essentially just a really nice guy, a little withdrawn and long suffering, who suddenly finds out that he's supposed to save the human race from themselves. As Priest of the Seventh Hour, he has a great deal of authority on the island, despite the fact that everyone knows he only has the job because his best friend is Head Priest. Marcus and Amulius are very close and Marcus is absolutely devastated when he finds that Amulius has come down with the plague. They were probably lovers at some point, if only because they were so very close, and to pass the time. (Generally there aren't many women in the clergy, though there are a lot of Barren working on the island- Marcus has a deep aversion to Moonsworn, though, partly due to his rather extensive history...)

Everyone in this story has a few gender issues- I think Amulius has it the worst, though I'm sure Lucretia and Numa have some issues, as well. Reincarnation doesn't give a damn about gender, so Marcus does occasionally have flashbacks to being a girl, and they disturb him a great deal. I'm not even sure what gender Amulius was originally, though...I only know that at some point his name was Zelindo, and at another it was Jezebel, and he can't figure out which one he'd rather be. Issues.

When not dancing the Hour or exercising, Marcus reads. A lot. We're talkin' ridiculous wealth of useless knowledge, here. He knows more about the history of the Clock and the old religion than anyone else in the temple, though he's not sure how much of it is learned from the library or remembered.

His relationship with Asphodel is rather strange...she's a Barren, which means that during the full moon she's a barely nubile teenager with raging hormones, and during the new moon she's practically going through menopause, and she hits every stage inbetween over the course of two weeks. They have a slightly twisted love/hate thing going on- and Marcus generally just throws up his hands in frustration, despair, and confusion over the whole thing. He's a silly, clueless, sheltered child, he is.

So, that's Marcus, in a very large nutshell. He spends the majority of his time either unconscious or very confused, and I love him.

Guess I'll have to do Asphodel soon, or Amulius...oh, they all have so many issues...

Friday, January 24, 2003

Look, there it is, in the distance...can it be? Is it really-

It is!

A LiveJournal!
And somewhere off to the side, next to it, is a DevArt account.

Busy lil' bee, ain't I? I intend to post a bit less here, in favor of there, at least in terms of personal crap. The crackheaded writing shiz should still appear here, unless I get just as teed at tripod as I currently am at freeservers.

And so it goes, eh?

Thursday, January 23, 2003

Why is it that the happiest things I hold in recent memory all involve the one person (or group of people) that I am trying desperately to forget?

I'm a slave to my memory, you see. Yesterday was always happier than today. Next time I feel the urge to go through my archives, slap me. It'll only make me cry over what could have been, but isn't.

(Only you're not reading this, are you? You never were. ...)

Monday, January 20, 2003

Anything Else

Sisters, you wear happiness as a shroud
Hiding your face in it's pleasing folds
Sadness, too, is your veil
A cloth with which I am unfamiliar
Neither happy, nor sad; I do not know extremes
But I swear, this is me smiling.
Protractor and compass could measure
the curvature of my lips.
Mere human eyes could not tell.
I can wear a straight face all day long
You would never see a bead of sweat on my brow
Naturally nonchalant, inclined towards indifference
Perhaps I do not give a damn.
Tell me your sadness
Show me your sackcloth of mourning
Sing me your grief and pain for
I am the Void, to draw it all away, within
It is mine now, but you may keep you rainments
Your showy grievances
So long as your heart belongs to me.
I remain unmoved
But then!
I hear what may be tears
From across the bounds of house not home
And the Void breaks apart, overflowing
Shattering within, but not the wall without.
A straight face can not have a crooked line
of tears or frowns or trembling lip.
I am never happy, nor am I sad.
I simply am, though your pain and mine
And his and hers and theirs
Run free within.
I simply am, for I know not how to be
Anything else.

Sunday, January 19, 2003

Right, so I was just about to sign up for a DeviantART! account, when it suddenly stopped working. *scowl* Curses, foiled again! *sniffle* The world hates me...! *sniffle*

Actually, it probably doesn't care all that much about me, and I'm really just sniffling because I'm sick, but that's beside the point.
It has come to my attention that nearly everything I write is based on a clash of opposite extremes. If there's light, there's gotta be dark; if there's fire, there's water; when you've got earth, there must be air; someone represents fire, it's a sure bet someone else will be ice. I'm not exactly sure what this means about me- but I've been doing this unconsciously in all of my fantasy based stories.

With Boffo, you've got the angels vs. the demons. In Seventh Hour, it's all fire/male ice/female with that hero/goddess archetype thrown in just to make things interesting. In Song of Silence, each main character has an elemental attribute. Conflict of extremes. The main plot point usually has something to do with resolving that conflict, or eliminating it.

Maybe I'm trying to write the eternal clash between good and evil, but I don't think I even believe in the eternal clash between good and evil. I'm much more of a 'shades of gray' kinda gal- or so I like to think. I don't even know anymore.

This doesn't have anything to do with anything, it's just an observation. I don't write much of anything other than fantasy/sci-fi, so I can't really observe this phenomenon in my other stuff. The only thing that comes to mind is Sunny Hill, and not only have I not really written any of that, but it doesn't exactly have a plot, either. Currently it's gonna be a collection of vignettes...but I might get smacked by a plot at some point. *shrug* I dunno. I just thought it was interesting to note.
So I walk into my room to grab my glass, being dehydrated and mildly feverish, and it's completely silent save for the buzzing of my irritated computer: Blue Screen of Doom. The mp3 CD was giving it grief, so I hit escape, grab my glass, and am on my way out when "Blue" starts up- and I had my stereo up kinda high (given that I usually don't have it any higher than 5 on the volume thing, and it was nearly twice that). So, out of the *silence* comes those first opening notes, and that chorale thing.

And I'm just like "Whoa." So, I've decided that if I could be any celebrity (any one celebrity, not a hybrid of four), I would be Yoko Kanno, just so I could have music like "Blue" in my head.

Never seen a bluer sky
Yeah I can feel it reaching out
and moving closer
There's something 'bout blue

Asked myself what it's all for
You know the funny thing about it
I couldn't answer
No, I couldn't answer

Things have turned a deeper shade of blue
and images that might be real
maybe illusion
Keep flashing off and on

Free. . .
Wanna be free. . . Gonna be free. . .
and move among the stars
You know they really aren't so far

Feels so free. . .
Gotta know free. . . Please. . .
Don't wake me from the dream
It's really everything it seemed

I'm so free. . .
No black and white in the blue

Everything is clearer now
Life is just a dream, you know
that's never ending
I'm ascending
-"Blue", Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts

Supposedly Kanno-san herself is one of the vocalists in the chorale in the beginning and the end. All ethereal and angel-like, it is. Mrrm.
It's a little disheartening to realize that my dad will most certainly become a famous writer of high acclaim long before I do. *grumpjealousgrump* Ah, well. We do what we can, I suppose...

But at least we're consistent; the writing of incoherent, cryptic poetry runs in the family.

Saturday, January 18, 2003

stolen from this random blog:

SUCCESS:
At age 4 success is . . . not peeing in your pants.
At age 12 success is . . . having friends.
At age 16 success is . . . having a drivers license.
At age 20 success is . . . having sex.
At age 35 success is . . . having money.
At age 50 success is . . . having money.
At age 60 success is . . . having sex.
At age 70 success is . . . having a drivers license.
At age 75 success is . . . having friends.
At age 80 success is . . . not peeing in your pants.

Hmm...now, just change 16 to...oh, I dunno, 20, and you'd be a little closer to the truth. But not really- my driver's test is in May, and the parent actually asked me if I wanted to drive around the block for a little while today. This is progress. Before she wouldn't even sit in the same car with me driving.

I didn't think I would feel so anxious for my liscence before; it used to be 'eh, driving, whatever', but now it's more like 'dammit, I wanna liscence!' I just want to hop in the car and drive away, away, and even further away. Don't care where, just- away.

Y'know how, at recess in elementary school, everyone would either wander around on the asphalt or the playground (depending on whether it was a 'recess' or 'recreation' day...) or play soccer (or Power Rangers, as the grade level determined)? I always hated soccer- I'd either play Sharks* on the old playground, keep score while other people played Gladiators** on the new playground (until they got yelled at by the teacher for horseplay), or look for rocks. But I'd have to walk through the soccer game to get to the playground, and it would always be my class against another class, and they'd always yell at me when I walked by. I hated playing soccer, because I had friends and enemies in both classes, and most of my enemies were in my class, among the soccer players. Sometimes the ball would end up kicked in my general direction, and I'd just kick it back- once I kicked it directly to the star soccer player of the wrong team.

Got yelled at quite a bit for that one- "You kicked it right at Chris! How could you! We lost because of that! Traitor!" To which I'd always reply "I'm not on your team, I'm on whichever team wins!" Yeah. I was an opportunist like that. Not particularly admirable, but I like to think I've gotten past that particular phase in my life- until I realize that I've gotten worse. Anyway.

I still don't like to choose sides. I hate it- be it in sports or arguments, I hate choosing sides. Especially when I can see reason in both: so, maybe she doesn't have the right to invade your privacy, but she was just asking- you could have simply told her the truth. Maybe he was being an asshole, but you weren't exactly being an angel, either. Who's friend am I? Sometimes, no one's, apparently.

Take the whole parking debacle going on at school (half the parking lot is reserved for teachers and other people who never show up, and going to school in the morning is a mess because of it)- everyone else bitches and moans about needing a parking permit, and I agree that the administration is being an idiot about it, but it actually is a good idea. I still bitch about being late to school because it inconveniences people who get dropped off in the morning, too, but I can still understand where they're coming from with this.

I usually can understand both sides of the argument- call it my Libra tendencies rising to the fore despite the fact that I'm a Virgo in denial and a Scorpio in disguise. Whatever it may be, I simply do not feel comfortable choosing sides; however, I find myself faced with a situation in which I desperately do not want to choose sides. Despite what my natural inclination would have me do, my head knows perfectly well which side I would choose, and which side I would repudiate.

I don't want it to come to that. I really don't want it to come to that. I just don't see how it's avoidable, though...*cries*

Friday, January 17, 2003

"What, no eggplant? Do you have eggplant? Can we have eggplant? Yes, eggplant."

And lo, there was eggplant.
Fiat eggplant!
There is a strange real estate man wandering around the house. In a hat. One of those pull-down winter hats- you know, all thugged out.

*d'oi*

Good news! I get an extension on the damned Latin project. I have until Tuesday now, which is good, very good.

Had a rather surreal conversation with the brother this morning; he as obtained a Game Cube, because it goes well with his sofa. Purely aesthetic reasons, you see- it just sits there, on the coffee table. (If he even has a coffee table. I ought to ask. Last I saw, he had some cinder blocks and boards, and that was it. Not counting the European leather sofa, of course. Five finger, off the back of the truck "damaged" goods discount, you understand...) He told me to be excited about Space Pirate Mido, to which I replied that I couldn't quite muster much excitement before seven in the morning. Then we discussed physics. Because, y'know, that's what the brother and I do at ten to seven in the morning, when I'm searching for a hair dryer and running late.

Very glad it's Friday, very glad indeed...Hey, did y'know you can program the diagonal directions onto the keyboard with snes9x- you can't do that (so far as I know) with zsnes. So I'm playing FFVI on a very tiny window, with a lovely high resolution picture- only the sound sucks ass and it lags like crazy. I can do aurabolt with 100% accuracy, though. Sabin's scenario has never been this easy. *cackle* And Cyan's so...Cyan! All the characters are type cast, and it's great. And of course we can't forget the translation- more cheese than a bowl of nachos! Mmm, nachos...

:)
*d'oi*! No, that was not Portuguese, you moronic search engine! That was Latin!

Thursday, January 16, 2003

Listening to the Donnie Darko version of "Mad World". *sigh* This song reminds me of...snow. Snow, and children's poetry and cold gray walls...but then again that could just be what's on my mind at the moment. It makes me think of Song of Shadows,actually. Lyrics forthcoming...

I am, at times, amazed by my own stupidity and weakness. It's all my own fault...

Studying Roman history is irritating enough as it is (Why the fork do they all have six names? And why can't the damn historians agree on something?) but it's even worse when you're studying Roman history...in the original Latin. If Livy were still alive, I'd strangle him. I'd so much rather be doing poetry...why couldn't we have done the Aeneid, huh? I don't wanna learn about Gaius Gracchus and Septimuleius, who cut off his head and filled it with lead to get more reward money. (One head of an enemy of the optimates was worth its weight in gold, literally.) I don't care about Julius Caesar and his many wives anymore. No one ever mentioned Marcus Regulus before, so don't even try to pretend he's important.

And the project? Write a two page paper in Latin? Not happening. Leave me alone, I know I had months to do this, but...I waited. And procrastinated. And wasted time to my fucking screwed up time sense because I thought only an hour had passed, when it was really two and a half.

Please, please, please let tomorrow be a snow day. I don't think I can deal with an infuriated teacher. Not this teacher, at any rate.

I've been just a little too busy trying to ignore the rest of the world, lately. Y'know, people crying and arguing and shouting and leaving, that sort of thing.

Ye gods, I'm tired...and I've so much work to do...

Wednesday, January 15, 2003

Feeling blocked. Want to write the great american novel, want to draw the next Picasso, want to play the next Paganini...want to do something.

The problem with staying home with the purpose of working in mind is that invariable, one ends up doing nothing at all.

I rather wish the stupid computer weren't so limited...I'd like to sketch upstairs. Much better environment than the kitchen, specially since I've cleaned my room a bit.
------------
"How strange...this place feels so familiar."

She didn't see the wizened old man before he stepped out of the shadows to appear at her elbow. "It feels familiar, young lady, because you were here last week, and the week before that, and the week before that."

"Why don't I remember?"

"Because four weeks ago, someone put a bullet through your brain and it hasn't occurred to you yet that you're dead. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

She looked up at the giant portrait on the wall thoughtfully. The daunting visage of the old woman seemed to glare down in disapproval. "You know, I think I'd like that."
They contrasted in such a way that would have had Relm begging for a chance to paint them. She'd babble something about the color wheel and grayscales and other arcane nonsense- she had to get all that artistic shit from her mother, because she sure as hell didn't get it from her dear old dad. Shadow was clad in black from visor to toe, and next to the albino gamesman he seemed even more severe. Their differences only began with their appearances, though.

Setzer had developed the annoying habit of divining his thoughts- Shadow had yet to master the trick, though he privately believed it was because Setzer didn't have any thoughts in his head to divine. "The primary difference between the two of us, Mr Shadow, is that while we have both suffered dauntingly tragic pasts, I have not allowed mine to impair my fashion sense." Setzer had taken to wearing sunglasses to protect his vision; naturally, they were an eye searing shade of yellow, to compliment the gold trim of his long coat. He raised a nearly invisible eye brow over them suggestively, smiling.

Fortunately, the enameled visor Shadow wore concealed his face. The grinning gambler probably would have decked him had he seen the way the ninja was trying not to laugh. "Setzer," he began carefully. "You are more full of shit than any other person on the planet."

Setzer made a sweeping bow, his coattails flying. "Why thank you, Mr Shadow. I do believe that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a very long time."

**********

I was trying to resist the urge to blog, but I am WEAK. Also, I am bored. To alleviate the boredom, I started sketching Setzer (hah! I'm Relm!), and that led to this. Because in addition to being WEAK, I am also on CRACK, and in my head the two of them engage in some of the most marvelous banter ever, because it's just so unlikely that they'd ever have any reason to speak to each other, ever. Naturally, in my post-game timeline, Shadow is stuck on the airship because Setzer thinks he's too amusing to let him off. He's betting that either Shadow will quit wearing that damn visor, or murder him in his sleep. Thus far the odds aren't in favor of Setzer's continued survival, but he doesn't much care.

Setzer, to me, is a complete and utter drama queen. This is partly due to the opera house, but also partly due to the few pieces of Amano(drool)Art of him that I've found. He's a sky pirate gambler who always goes for broke, especially when it's his life on the line...And he may be described as "free spirited", but I'm of the opinion that Darryl's death drove him just a little bit loopy- after all, she was the one who took all the stupid risks. (I completely disagree that Gogo is Darryl, by the way. I prefer to think that Gogo is God, instead.)

Well, whatever. Setzer roxxors, and Shadow amuses me. That, and I'm quite bored and not in the mood to go to bed yet. So...I blog. Whee!

Tuesday, January 14, 2003

...I lied. The screenshots from Origins are making me cackle. Loudly. While clapping my hands.

...Dude.
Mmm, Final Fantasy Origins...*drool*

I'm thinking that the one thing I would so waste ridiculous amounts of money on right now (other than a PS2) would be a copy of the following: Final Fantasy Anthology, Final Fantasy Chronicles, and Final Fantasy Origins. Gad, I would kill for the (almost) complete set. Origins doesn't come out for several months, though...I'll just have to keep an eye out for Chronicles and Anthology at EBX and such, I guess...

Okay, I promise I'm done spouting about video games for the moment...honest.

Monday, January 13, 2003

Warning: very long discussion of a video game coming up. there may be spoilers. you probably don't care.

Going through one of my (rare) FFVI obsessive phases...It'll always be one of my less favorite games in the series, though now that it's been five years since I last played it, I'll admit that it's growing on me again. Funny, I never actually beat that game...I couldn't be bothered. I dearly loved some parts of it, but the overall experience was always a little disappointing. I don't think I can quite explain why- it might be that there was no main character, and what's the point in playing a role plaing game if you can't role play a main character? Oh, sure, people say Terra's the main character, but you don't really need her to beat the game. The only characters you do need are Celes, Sabin, Setzer, and Edgar- but I'm fairly sure you can kill Sabin if you're not careful.

I always lacked the finger coordination to pull off his blitz moves, anyway. It wouldn't have mattered to me if he got squished. The only characters I really liked (and to me, the characters are really all that matter, in most cases) were Locke, Setzer, Shadow, Gogo, Mog, Cyan, and Celes.

You can divide the game into two parts; the World of Balance, or Terra's Arc, and the World of Ruin: Celes' Arc. Nice to see female characters that pull off being graceful plot devices. Square didn't manage that again until FFX, in my opinion. Terra bugged me, though- the plot device girls always do.

I could never shake the feeling that the series was continuous; the ancient castle was only too obviously the ruins of Castle Baron, and Crescent Island appeared in FFV, though I didn't know it at the time. I'd always associate certain characters with certain other characters- Rydia and Terra, Celes and Rosa (though admittedly, the only thing those two had in common was blonde hair), Shadow and Edge (ninjas- never mind that one was emotionless and depressing while the other was a loudmouthed brat), Cecil and Locke. (Don't even ask where that connection comes from. I couldn't tell you without using flow charts and diagrams and lengthy, convoluted lectures on the inner workings of my mind. Just smile and nod.) Pretty tenuous connections, really- but Figaro does resemble Damcyan if you look at it slantwise- and whose to say that Gilbert couldn't have spawned someone like Edgar? (I never much liked Edgar, you know- true, he was one of the two characters who could weild a polearm, but he always irritated me.)

I was all of nine years old when I first played VI; I think I was actually expecting a sequel to IV, which may or may not be the source of my underlying disappointment. Also, because I was only nine, there were a lot of things that I just didn't get about the game. I was very stupid at nine years old. So, the whole thing with Shadow being Relm's father- didn't figure that one out 'til I discovered the internet. Like I said, stupid.

I adore Shadow, though. He's a ninja. He's silent and cranky and surly and full of rage and he's got Interceptor. And we all know that Interceptor is the coolest thing since sliced bread, no really. It's endlessly amusing that most of Shadow's dialogue has something to do with a) the fact that Interceptor bites and dislikes strangers, b) the fact that Shadow dislikes strangers (and probably bites, too- watch out for rabies, you never can tell with those ninjas), or c) doom, gloom, dying, and other pleasant thoughts of that nature. Shadow's the man, he is. Not a particularly powerful fighter, but when you get right down to it, all the characters were exactly the same- probably another reason why I disliked the game.

I also adore Setzer to a ridiculous degree- for the airship, for the gambling, for the opera house, for Darryl and for Kohlingen. For the cards and the slots and the trick coin- I love the man to pieces. For the scars and the albinism and the money- he's got so much money he can afford to throw it at your enemies! No, really. He's cool. Mad cool. Also fairly useless as a fighter, but again, it doesn't really matter. He named his airship the Blackjack. Not Falcon or Enterprise- Blackjack. Darryl's ship was the Falcon, but we can forgive her for that, since she too, kicked much arse. Really now, how can you not love a guy whose title is "The Wandering Gambler"? Especially when you first meet him when he comes swinging on a rope into the middle of an opera to steal away the leading lady? The thing about Setzer, you see, is that he's got style. And an airship.

Celes is just cool, of course- she's no opera floozy, and that's almost as good as Relm's "puffed up aerobics instructor" line. "Love starved twit" is up there with immortalized lines from Celes, too. I always found her more useful in the beginning than Terra, and Celes never had the same irritating doubts that the green haired one did. Way to go, strong female character. Woo. (Plus, she ends up with Locke. That's thirty thousand points in her favor, right there.)

Locke's a thief. 'Scuse me, treasure hunter. 'Nuff said. He's Indiana Jones without the whip. And the archaeology degree. And the hat. But he does have a bandanna! And a disturbing tendency towards having his girlfriends disappear...Locke's immortal lines are "I'll rip your lungs out" and every single time he calls himself a treasure hunter. We all know he's just a sneakthief, though. Locke is in De Nile, but Celes will hopefully pull him out.

Cyan is just one heaping pile of angsting ronin, and he's a darling because of it. Tragic story, with the wife and kids, the whole kingdom gets destroyed, that sort of thing- but he speaks in dialect, and he's the cause of the whole "Mr Thou" mess- and in the bar in Nikeah, he says one of his immortal lines: "Back, you licentious howler!" I mean, come on- I don't even know what a licentious howler is, but you've just gotta love a guy who says stuff like that.

Mog is pretty self explanatory- he dances. And he's got a pompom on his head. And he can use pole arms. And, supposedly, at level 50 or 60, he learns ultima on his own. Hello, niftyness. Gogo is similar- he can do anything you damn well want him/her to, and he just looks cool, alright? That's all. Gogo= utter coolness. And he's immortal, evidently, since you fight him in FFV, too, and that had to be at least 1000 years before VI, if you believe in the continuation of the series.

Yes, I can base a belief system off these games. Say not a word, ye blasphemers- I r a dork. *sigh* Dammit...I really haven't played this game since seventh grade, and in retrospect it was a rather key aspect of my elementary/middle school years...but...nrg. I think I have to go download it now. Too much trouble to hook up the ol' snes right now. *doublesigh* I should have stopped after the first paragraph of this long...whatever this was. The thing is, I never actually beat it myself, and I really can't just leave it as is...

Hushup. I'm rationalizing this on the fact that this game never gave me any closure. *glares* Well, it didn't. Hmph.

On a side note, RPG Classics is the best site since sliced bread, no really. All the information you could ever possibly want on any game you could ever possibly care about. The (as of yet unfinished) FFVI walkthrough made me spurt peanut butter out my nose. Eeeew. But wait, that's a good thing! ...kinda. I should stop putting peanut butter on my ice cream, shouldn't I?

Right. Rom hunting now...

Sunday, January 12, 2003

There. Toldya I would.

It's not that I want to become an embittered, cynical old woman before I'm 25, but sometimes that just seems like the easiest path. Fortunately for me, I've never been one to consistently take the easy way out of things. If it's difficult and twisty, I'm all over it- usually unintentionally, of course.

Mrr. it's late. The performance is tomorrow- I finally figured that the piccolo player looks like Greg Kinnear. Like, whoa. And the least they could do for us poor little "honors band" students is put up some signs. We're really not that smart. It's a lot easier to get lost in Kendall Hall than you'd think. :)

Saturday, January 11, 2003

Mrr. Feeling restless. Jacob's Ladder has put strange ideas in my head.
---------------
The walls were supposed to be white, but for some reason they were a strange off-gray that looked slick and freshly painted. It made her nauseous to look at them; but the floor was tiled with thin vinyl the color of misery, and the ceiling was hidden beneath too-bright lights. The harsh illumination gave the few wandering patients an even more haggard and skeletal look.

They reached out to her as she walked by, glazed looks in their rheumy eyes. Most of them were old; Alzheimer's patients, and the incredibly frail. People with nowhere else to go and no one else to take care of them. Their minds and voices were thin and hazy and largely unthreatening; but they were sad and far older than they should have been.

Age was simply a matter of perspective, she'd found; being immortal skewed things a bit.

The old ones were the quiet ones, and she could avoid their hands as long as she kept moving. The young ones, though- they were dangerous. They shouldn't have been allowed out of their rooms, with their loud voices and louder thoughts, trapped inside of claustrophobic skulls. If the off-gray hallway weren't so crowded with uncomfortable chairs and empty gurneys (complete with heavy buckles and leather restraints, part of her mind couldn't help notice) she would have kept to the walls and run, as quickly as possible. As it was, her companion was hard pressed to keep up, long legged though he was.

The inevitable happened- a man (was it a man? how could it be a man?) rocking back and forth, back and forth in a wheel chair grabbed her arm as she went by. His grip was alarmingly strong, skeletal fingers straining and bruising. She looked into his eyes and tried not to wail in horror at the things she heard.

"Something for the pain, lady. You gotta give me something for the pain." the pain give me something pain need want pain help me

She forced herself to keep looking, and keep listening. There wasn't much to see, or hear. "What pain?" Everything she'd ever seen, ever known, ever dreamed- everything- echoed in her voice. You do not know pain.

It was a little scream, startled and afraid, a single harsh shriek. She shook her head and removed his hand from her arm. "There is no pain, here." She kissed him softly on the forehead, and quieted the jumbled shrieking of his mind with a touch.

His eyes followed her as she hurried on. The old ones, the senile ones, they saw it, too, and they reached out with unsteady hands, wanting to be touched. Wanting release from pain. The younger ones shrank back in fear, until they saw the kindness in her eyes. I can't help you all, she wanted to say. All I can do is show you my pain, and you'll see why yours is so insignificant...but that isn't fair to any of us. I can't help you.

Her companion touched her shoulder; cold comfort, in this place. It was enough, though, and his presence filled the hall and surrounded her. They might reach out towards her, but they nearly fell over themselves in their haste to be away from him.

"Not much further."

She ignored the lie. "You're sure he's here?"

"They said he checked himself in three days ago. If he wasn't crazy then, he certainly is now."

"I can't hear him..."

"Too much static. If he's here, we'll find him."

"And bring him home?"

"We'll find him, and bring him home. Where he belongs."

She gripped his hand tightly and closed her eyes. She couldn't close her ears, but it helped, a little. "Good."

something for the pain
The latest netflix movie review (only one more DVD before the anime starts coming! bwahahaha!):
Jacob's Ladder. Late '70s, to mid '80s, I think- given hairstyles, clothing, technology and cars, that's where I'd put it. No idea when it was actually filmed and directed, though. Anyway.

So, see Jacob. See Jacob run. See Jacob's back get effed up. See Jacob fall over screaming having visions of demons with large teeth bursting from girlfriends chest cavity. See Jacob die. See Jacob's ex wife and his dead children visit him in the hospital. See Jacob nearly get hit by car. See Jacob's chiropractor die. See Jacob die again. See Jacob go to chiropractor and get his back fixed. See a couple more disturbing visions. See girlfriend freak out. See Jacob freak out. See ex?wife freak out. See dead children smile. (It must have been early '80s! The dead kid was Macauly Culkin. And he was like, really tiny.) See Vietnam War flashbacks.

Finally hear explanation and go, "Like, whoa." See Jacob die. The end.

My brain hurts*...and I wasn't even properly watching the movie. Ow...It was good, nice acting and whatnot, but damn was it screwy. The plot was a slightly foregone conclusion, but the way it was directed, and the way it was set up was just...oi. Brain hurting. Dad should not be allowed to pick movies for a while because of this. If he were into anime, he'd watch stuff like Lain and actually enjoy it.

Not to say that Lain isn't great and all- but it's damned creepy. And artsy. Very artsy. I'll take my simplistic hack and slash, tits and ass, sword and sorcery run of the mill sort of anime over utter creepiness any day. Hey, it's the simple things in life, okay?

*It should be noted, however, that my brain doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did when it was pointed out to me that Peter Pan is realy about an old woman wanting to be a little boy who wants to marry his/her mother. *pain*

Thursday, January 09, 2003

And now for something even more completely different! Aren't you glad?

Lookeehere. It's Marcus. With a background! I's so proud...never mind that I have only now realized that I don't know how to make an object cast a shadow, or make real backgrounds...and ignore all the gray. It's supposed to be that monocromatic, honest. Also, the squiggly thing in the back is a wall. Nothing more. Just a wall.

But...it's Marcus. Sans shirt. Sans shoes. And Asphodel in the background, looking shiny, but not half as shiny as she ought. I like the feet. S'only a rough colored sketchy, mind you- I'll clean it up when I feel the urge to fiddle with things. Make the background the right shade of gray, ferinstince, and make that wall less...squiggly. But anyway. Marcus. Mmm.

Took me hours to get that pose right...
and now for something completely different.

my cowboy bebop theme song is goodnight julia

what's your cowboy bebop theme song?


It was either this, Autumn in Ganymede, or Road to the West. The first was too upbeat, the second too depressing.


I'm curious as to why Livejournal hates me...but not that curious.

I'm also curious as to why all members of the male persuasion are assholes and bastards, but again, not that curious*.

I don't care anymore. I was going to do an extended version of today's lunch table rant, but then it occurred to me that there would be no point. It changes nothing in a situation that is largely my own fault. Entirely my own fault, really.

I'd rather not have been reminded that I actually am human with all the nasty emotional baggage that goes along with it, though. I could have done without that for today. I really could have.

I was always quite determined to never let a boy make me cry. Nearly broke that promise today, and that, I think, is the last I have to say on the subject.

Case closed. Next?

*Not at all curious, just rather upset and unsettled. A good thing I don't believe in signs, because if I did, I'd be in deep shyte.

Wednesday, January 08, 2003

Picture someone- anyone, really, but preferrably someone small and helpless and weepy looking- curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the floor. No lights, save the one shining down on said person. Camera approaches from the back- you can't see her face. Camera approaches slowly. Sounds very much like sobbing, but possibly laughter, emit from person. You can see her shoulders trembling. Camera moves in even closer...person's head snaps up, jumps to her feet- her back is still to you.
Bright flash of light- blinding bright, white spots in your eyes, camera goes out of wack for a moment- and a scream. Not terror, not anguish, just a scream. A very loud scream- angry, almost, but really, just a scream. Wings unfurl- not pretty, shiny angel wings, not fairy wings, not dragon wings- dark, dirty, grimy, shedding feathers wings. The sort meant for flying and not much else.
Figure turns around, her face, hands, arms are all bloodstained, and there's murder in her eyes.

She's looking at you.
-----
And that, ladies and gents, describes my mood right about now. Also the image that has been running through my head for the past...six months. Don't ask. I have to go to MUN, and it's not making me very happy.

Tuesday, January 07, 2003

*blinkblink* Dirty Dancing is being watched in the other room...I do have a hang up on dancing, people who dance, and anything at all related to it, you know. I'm quite aware of this. But...Dance is humanity's oldest art form, not counting sex.
...
I am reminded of how desperately I wish I had any amount of talent at dancing, any at all. Freedom of body, of movement...Freedom of heart and soul...

When I am reminded of how much I wish I could dance, I am reminded even more so of how much I wish I could fly.
.......
*cough* ignore me when i do things like that, would you? waxing all vaguely deep and poetic in a vague and wistful sort of way...i should be thwapped repeatedly for my melodrama, you know. (look, i'm gonna do it again for the last time today, and that'll be the end of it, promise.)

Moodswings are quite useful sometimes, you know. I don't stay sad. I can't stay sad. Even when I'm unhappy and eyeing sharp objects and wondering what their effects on my wrists might be, I know I'm not going to stay unhappy. I'm a failure as a depressive person. I really am. Melodrama, or just drama in general, however, is a constant state of being. So, when I'm doing the whole 'waaah the world hates me' thing, just ignore it. It'll go away eventually. Of course, when I'm being pretentious, your only hope is to cross your fingers and pray that I get it out of my system before I get too annoying.

Eh. That's all.
Mmm, babynamer.com. Love them strange and random references.
I've got a hankering for names that begin with "I"...normally I'm hung up on "J" names, or "K", or "R". "Y" is an old favorite, too. I like the odd names. "Ianthe" and "Imogen". Mmm, lovely names. "Imalda". Oooh, I like that one. It means 'universal battle'. And there's always "Ingatius" for the boys, or the classic and wonderful "Inigo", and the tongue rolling "Indalecio" which is, incidentally enough, a name found in so2...it means 'teacher-like'. The source is Greek, which means the 'c' is probably soft, but I like it better with a hard 'c'. In-da-leh-kee-oh. Mrrm. Yummy names. And, if you're in the mood for telepathic gorillas or giant white whales, "Ishmael" is always great.

Isidor. Whoa. Marcus, I've got your name from your current life. w00t. (yeah, I'm still working on The Seventh Hour. It's strange, but I really like what I have...but then, I liked most of DDD up until I tried to re-read it this past November. Still. Marcus needs a real name, if only for the few moments during which he speaks to his mother.) I should prolly post a few bits of 7H, shouldn't I? Hmm...eventually.

And, for a little bit of variety, Zelindo! Boy's name meaning 'happy shield'. There's quite a lot I could do with that one, actually...could even tie it in to 7H, as one of Amulius' past lives. Gotta love the guy who started off as a girl but came back as a guy only to die again and come back as a girl. I'm somewhat bummed that I killed him in the first 10,000 words- I really like Amulius, in retrospect. He and Marcus have a very sweet, brotherly relationship that can be twisted into all sorts of wrong if you like. Marcus doesn't like to talk about it, especially not with Amata around.

Poor guy. He's surrounded by women all throughout the whole story, his best friend is reincarnated as a little girl who is ridiculously precocious for a six year old. I may do an arc of the story from her point of view. When her memories as Amulius and all the others come back (and they'll have to, with Marcus remembering things and Asphodel being who- and what- she is) she will be one seriously fucked up little girl. Fun fun fun. :) I'm seriously enjoying the story, you know. Wonderful fun not knowing what's going to happen next.

You see, this is why I don't think about things too much- when I'm staring at the wall, my mind is blank. This is why I don't question the deeper meaning of real things- silly things, sure, because they open doors. But real things, like emotions and people and relationships- I can't question them. Too much information kills. Thinking about things too much kills them in the end...
So, yeah, I am a sucker for happy, smoochy endings. But I can't seem to be able to write one.
I had one, for a moment. It was all happy and smoochy and silly yesterday. But it's changed, and now I just need to work the kinks out in my head.

Oh, it's still happy. It just doesn't end with an "And then he kissed her." Things really shouldn't end that way, although I think that's just my cynical side speaking. Instead, it's ending with a game of chess. A very, very cliched game of chess. I'm almost as ashamed of this as I was of the "And then he kissed her." More ashamed, even. My one excuse (two excuses, really) is that I couldn't let that character die. And that everybody does the good/evil chess match at some point or another. *sweatdrop* Don't they?

(All these movies are making me think in circles. I'm never going to think of "The Three Faces of Eve" without a shudder now, because of "Far From Heaven". Somebody give me a cookie for that reference, why doncha. Two, because I've never actually seen "Eve", though I know what it's about, and because I really want a cookie. *sigh*)

"I do believe, my dear, that I've won the game."
"Have you? I find that hard to believe, though sacrificing your knight towards the end was a rather masterful move. Sacrificing yourself was simply foolish, of course."
"What can I say? You were always better at strategy. I disagree that my knight was sacrificed, mind you. Sacrifices generally die."
"You call that alive? He may have won you the game, but he'll be paying the price of your manipulation for the rest of his life- a life that will be unnaturally long, thanks to you."
"You could have backed down. Conceded gracefully and all that."
"You could have done the same."
"Let's not point fingers and name names, beloved."
"Let's not kiss ass while we've still got a mouth to do it with, hmm?"
"Testy, are we? So you captured my knight. Gloat, if you'd like. My king captured yours before the final battle even started. He's mine, and you can't have him back."
"I rather think that the most important pieces on this board belong to each other- even working in tandem, we'd have a hard time separating them, now."
"I rather think you're right, my dear."
"Do stop pretending to be civilized. It's unsettling."
"Then by all means, let's act as uncivilized as possible."
-A table left abandoned, hanging in empty space. Tiny figurines go about their business, ignored by god and the devil for the moment.-

Of course, you'll have to figure out which one's which...and this is just dialogue, unpolished and badly ordered. I'm not sure I like the idea so much anymore, since it is so very cliche, but...it would fit. *dillemma* Ah, well. It won't be long now, before I force myself to post it, just for the sake of having it done.

Never any promises, though. That would be unseemly. ;)
Life, as they say, is good...

So long as I ignore all the fucking depressing shit. I've gotten really good at that over the past few years, though. Listening to Aida soundtrack- it's put me in de Nile.

Feel free to hit me for that. Life is still good, and I don't give a damn about what you might say.
Ani-me? Ani-my!

Have been given permission to use the parent's netflix account, as the parent is out of town. Now browsing through contents.

...Nope, definately can not order Fake on netflix...that would be under the heading of Very Stupid Things To Do with the parent's netflix account, no matter how much I'd like to. For the plot, of course, why else? ;) Could order Trigun shiz, though, and Bebop...or Nazca. I think I'll order Nazca. A shame they don't have Bastard!, but hey, what can you do? Ordering Bastard! would be another Very Stupid Thing To Do, for an opposite reason of the same genre as ordering Fake. *snort* Don't ask, unless you already know, hey?

It's a shame, you know. They don't have anything *good*...just standard stuff, or stuff that I've already seen. Lots of Sailor Moon and Pokemon and random mecha stuff or girl!fighting stuff (ugh) that I really don't want to see at all. And, of course, Dragonball Z. *shudder* Not touching Robotech or Lain (creepy art movie! aiieeee!), also still not touching Ranma or Love Hina on principle. Angel Sanctuary...uh...no. Not only would that be a Very Stupid Thing, but I'm still suffering from only the barest comprehension of the manga, and supposedly it's necessary for AS. Wait, that might be Tokyo Babylon/X 1999 that I'm thinking of...whichever is which. Regardless, no.

Lost Universe? Hmm...I'd rent that solely on account of its main character's name (obsessive little twit, aren't I? Surprised I haven't babbled about exactly how obsessive I really am, here...) but it looks like a sci-fi version of Slayers, from the same people and with a male lead. Put it under 'maybe', one hit above Nazca. Lessee, whatelse...Bakuretsu Hunters? One look at the blurb and...no. Further looking at the reviews, however, puts it one above Lost Universe on the maybe. Hmm...Same people who did Slayers, yet again. I know what to expect- light humor and dumb blonds. *snort*

No, I am not renting Dirty Pair. Stupid computer. (ugh)
Oh, triple (ugh). They have effin Urotsukidoji, but not Ruroni Kenshin. Eeeeewwww. As always, unless you already know, don't ask. Especially in this case. Urotsukidoji is just plain sick and disturbing in its basic concept. Why, oh why would they call it a 'must see'? Nazi-death rape machine. Speaks for itself. moving on.
(ugh)
So...much...Pokemon...*head explodes*
Mrr. I'd watch Amon Saga again, and actually listen towards the end when a few things were actually explained...(prettypretty Yoshitaka Amano art...*drool* (did I mention i am the spleeful owner of a copy of Dream Hunters? No? MmmArt.) and nifty hack-slash-sword-sorcery-giant-turtle! plot.) (Speaking of turtles...*Small Gods* Terry Pratchett. Worship, worship. Grovel, grovel. Move maybe three steps to the left and get thwacked by raining turtles. Hmwahaha!)
Right. Anime.
...I'll be somewhere over there, desperately trying to keep from laughing by slamming my head against a wall. It's like reading ff.net reviews, only worse...
I'll probably just give in and order Metropolis. 'Cept the parent would probably enjoy that, so I'll...suggest it to him when he returns.

Hah! Double hah! I'm not the only one who waxes excessively wordy in terms of Bebop! These reviewers wrote fricken' essays! And I'm not the only one who plugs The Jazz Messengers, either. *cackle*

Damn. I must make a decision. How vile. Bakuratsu Hunters, Lost Universe, Trigun, or Bebop? Do I want comedy- or do I want stuff I've already seen? Mrg. And, of course, there's always Outlaw Star. *sigh*

Wait, what's that? I can...order more than one? Sweet! (Yes, I did watch Dude, Where's My Car? the other night. Shibby!) Now to mess with the priority listing...*evil cackle* The parent will almost definitely return before many of these come in. I do hope he'll have the pleasure of opening the envelopes to find Vash staring out of the case at him. (Or, better yet, whoever it is on the cover of Bakuretsu Hunters...*cackle*) Yup, ordering everything now. *splee!*

Nazca, Lost Universe, Bakuretsu Hunters, Trigun 3, Outlaw Star. Humor, for the most part...(Trigun 3 is before the series goes "Oh my god, I'm depressing! Weep, you weak little human in front of the tv screen! WEEP!"...that happens somewhere around volume 5, I think...maybe 4. Think Legato, and grab the tissues to keep you occupied when your jaw isn't on the floor.) Why, you might ask, am I getting OS and Trigun when I've seen them already, for the most part? Because Adult Swim still cuts out crap, and Jim's voice irritates me a little. (I'm sure his seiyu will irritate me even more- prepubescent males in anime sound more squeaky than the girls.) And because a bootlegged Chinese DVD with English subtitles really just doesn't compare to the official thing. And I wanna hear Wolfwoods dubbed voice. Mrow. ;)

Oh, yes indeed, I are evil.

Sunday, January 05, 2003

Nrrrg. Current events:

I am addicted to Star Ocean, and currently in love with many characters, including, but not limited to: Noel, Ashton, Dias, Bowman. Other characters that, at the very least, have me severely amused: Celine, Rena, Leon. Favorite item creation: cooking. Favorite fighter: Ashton. Favorite character: Ashton. Favorite person to sketch: Ashton. Yes, there is a theme here.

Number 4 reeds, while actually being very small trees, sound wicked good on the high notes. However, my mouth hurts wicked bad after eleven hours of rehearsal over two days. The Puszta, however, is wicked fun. Westminister Hymn is wicked amusing. Stars and Bars is a wicked pain in the arse, and Jubiliation Overture is wicked long. Mr Nichols is rubbing off on me. French horns should be illegal, because they aren't real instruments. They're wicked complicated. There's a piccolo player who's wicked cute, and the timpany player is wicked funny when he plays. My stand partner is a wicked improvement from the last time I did Region Band. Wicked! (Disclaimer: I've no idea where that bout of ridiculousness came from.)

School sucks. College sucks. I have two more things to bring to guidance and four more things to mail out, and then I'm done. I'm in the process of submitting my Drew application. Then I will be done.

I do not like driving. It gives me too much time to think, and right now thinking is a very, very bad thing. At the same time, I do like driving, because it's fun as long as there aren't many other cars on the road. Snow, however, sucks. The back roads of Montgomery and Hillsboro, on the other hand, kick ass.

Do not mention the words "The Beacon" to me. I will be forced to hurt someone.

Guess who's back from Scotland? No, really, guess. She came to dinner, too. "The couple that always breaks up, but never really separates." Too true, too true.

I have done far too little this weekend (if you ignore the eleven hours of rehearsal). Next weekend will be even worse (if you ignore the fifteen or so hours of Region Band).

I think it's nearly time for a long overdue scribble entry.
Oh yeah. Definitely time for one of those.

I am a sucker for happy endings. I am a sucker for sappy, sickly sweet, mushy, happy endings that go "And then he kissed her." and there ends the story. My shame is that I have actually written one of these. *shame* Ah, well. It wasn't exactly a sappy ending. There was a lot of bitterness and awkwardness and anger and slamming of doors and stomping of feet. And I know I'm going to change that last line, but damn does it feel good to have something finished.
...that's a lie, actually. It was finished before, and that felt pretty good. Now I'm just tweaking, and that never feels good. Eh, well. Whatever.

Picked up the nanonovel again today; have decided that it amuses me too much to put it down for good. Last year's will sit for a while; it's depressing, and lots of people die that I'd rather not see dead. Instead, I'll work on The Seventh Hour and have Marcus and Asphodel bicker. All the time. "Remind me to commit ritual suicide when we reach the surface; I can't see well enough to disembowel myself right now." "Will do, fearless leader." *d'oi*

The Cat just walked all over my Haverford essay. I have printed another; all is well.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow.

*end current events*

Wednesday, January 01, 2003

Right. Staying up until six AM and sleeping until noon theoretically should have me tired right about...now.

Ahem? Hellooooo, brain? I should be tired and sleeping now, yes? Pardon me while I bludgeon my nervous system into submission...
I've got "Down in the River to Pray" stuck in my head. ~>:| nerrrrg.

Oh, sinners let's go down, let's go
Down in the river to pray
as I went down in the river to pray
studyin' about that good old way...

I dun even know the words proper, but it is a lovely song. And a lovely New Year's Day to everyone, I hope.

I'm sure I had things to say...(Sad thought- should it be a tossup between auditioning for all state (and most likely not making it) or going to ILMUNC, I believe I will choose the audition.)

Oh, sisters, let's go down, let's go,
Down in the river to pray...
School tomorrow. Damn.

Did the annual New Year's Go See a Movie With Parents thing (normally there's a New Year's walk on the canal as well, but it was pouring down rain like nobody's business all day long. scratch that- no walking along canal when towpath is flooded, thank you muchly.) and unfortunately, we let dad pick the movie. Went to small theatre very far away to watch small independent-ish movie called...Far From Heaven. disturbed, I am. (Speaking like Yoda, am I as well. Grammar has eloped with coherency and last I checked they were in Barbados on the beach.) It's about a 50's housewife whose husband...well, that would almost spoil it for you. Not that anyone who isn't my dad or very like him will ever see it, mind, so...anyway.

50's housewife, silly hair and calf length skirts, black maid and 2.14 children, played by Julliane Moore. The words 'dear' and 'darling' are thrown about every which way, in reference to everything. Her husband is a sales exec for giant company. She's on the cover of the Hartford social. (Yes, only in Connecticut.) Life is perfect. Until housewife catches husband and his golfing partner in various states of undress in the office afterhours. *d'oi* This is the fifties, mind you- husband becomes determined to "cure" himself ("Some choose electroshock aversion therapy or hormonal treatments...") and wife goes all 'dear' and 'darling' and is oh, so proud. All is well, (aside from the growing infatuation wife has with African American gardener, and all the nasty rumors her socialite friends start spreading about her, and the fact that husband gets drunk on a regular basis and occasionally smacks her one, and the way the children keep getting ignored and-) so well, in fact, that husband and wife decide to go to Miami for a little r&r over New Year's. (This is Miami in the '50s, so it probably didn't seem like such a bad idea at the time...) Enter cute looking blond boy who does not say a word in any of the scenes he's in (though he isn't in many scenes- I'm still vaguely amused by this) but who keeps giving husband meaningful glances. Gardener's daughter gets hit by a rock, wife's last support is setting up to move outta town.

I think we can all see where this one's going.

It was a good movie, superbly acted and brilliantly set (costumes and makeup and scenery was all right out of 1958, including the cars. Funny how the only thing that hasn't changed over the past 45 years are the school buses...) but it was not particularly uplifting. The ending was inevitable, given the state of things, and the ending truly bothered me because of that. (Screw realism, give me happy fluff, damn it!)

Oh! I almost forgot- saw a preview for The Pianist, with Adrian Brody. After writing that Boffo New Year's bit, it seemed a little...coincidental? I suppose that's the word. Adrian Brody is very nearly who I'd choose to play Dei, and the whole piano thing just makes it a little more amusing. Or something. Gah. At this rate I'll have my dad's taste in movies, and I'll be forced to shoot myself. *_*
Good night. Cigar smoke and champagne flutes, "testosterone" and rolled eyes. Cloudberry liqueur, "what a blackberry is to a raspberry, cloudberries are to blackberries," stickey sweet, "they only grow above the arctic circle," and all too cloying, "during the months of midnight sun." Added to an already full glass, glances traded over head. How do they compare? This is an epic yarn, says one, we've got time. Do you remember, and do you remember? How do you survive, laughter and smiles and a quietly shut door. A movie? Which one- too many choices, seen it already, so many times. From the beginning, then. What did she say? Laughter. Lowered eyes and hidden smiles. Goodnight, and goodnight, and goodnight. Good to see you, one last time. Until...good night.

Don't forget to turn out the tree.
----------------------------------

One more day of freedom...*sigh*

'Twas a good day, though. A happy New Year's Eve- always a good sign. Not much like last year, no, not at all. Happy day. (One might ask why I am still awake at nearly 4 AM. Ask away. I have no answer, beyond the fact that it is truly fricken' freezin' in here.) *shivershiver* :)
Where most places were filled to the rafters with rowdy, drunken celebrators, this one was quiet and calm; only a few patrons sat in attendance at the bar, ignoring the tv turned down low in favor of their drinks. The ball dropped unnoticed, here on New Year's Eve. Beneath the cigarette smoke and general air of despondency, a piano played. The tunes were familiar, once forgotten melodies that carried more memory behind them than music.

It was a good piano, Dei mused, his fingers trailing slowly over the keys. A jazzy blues piece, something learned long ago and half improvised to fill in the gaps where memory failed. There was a half empty bottle of wine, no need to bother with a glass here, to keep him company on top of the piano. A good piano, with a sweet, melancholy sound. Perfect. He brushed his hair away from his face with an absent hand; he'd have to cut it again soon.

"Happy birthday, Tyler," he sang softly, "Happy death day, Dad, Cara. Happy Anniversary, Jubal. Happy birthday, me. And me, and me, and me..." There was a shadow sitting beside him on the piano bench, whispering requests in his ear. One hand still danced across the cracking keys while the other closed clawlike over the bottle's neck. "And a happy new year." The level of wine in the bottle was growing dangerously low; sobreity was not high on his list of happy states of being right now.

"Can you play 'Monday's Wash'?" Another hand (he didn't have three, so it had to be someone else's) closed over the bottle and removed it gently.

"Too happy." Moonlight Sonata, swaying triplets weaving through the smoke. "I don't do happy anymore."

"Why not?"

He played on for a few moments longer, not wanting to answer the annoying voice. The shadow at his side chuckled to itself. "Why should I? All alone on New Year's Eve, all alone the rest of the year, what's there to be happy for? Why the fuck should I be happy now?"

Two more hands, stilling his own on the keys, threading silence through the gloom. Warmth, familiar and unwanted, chased the shadow away. A final hand, resting on his shoulder- a presence that should have been forgotten and gone. "Because you aren't alone, kid. You never were." A black feather hovered in the corner of his vision, dangling from the end of a long, thin braid. The hand on his shoulder tightened in warning.

He couldn't avoid them now. Unfair, he wanted to say, Unfair to sneak up on me like this and take away the last thing that is mine. How dare they take my loneliness? How dare they chase away my shadow? Her hair was an ordinary shade of brown- gone was the lavender and pink; her eyes were the same, gray green and endless, ancient and sad. She guided his hands to different keys. "You play the melody; I'll take the accompaniment." Unfair.

He had no choice, now. "You won't stay forever." Almost rebelliously, he struck a different tune. Black Anemones. Take that, each weeping note seemed to say. "You might as well just leave now."

A thin melody insinuated itself into his music, followed by an equally subversive harmony- surrounded, with a hand still on his shoulder and a presence leaning across his back and at his side. Anemones bloomed in full technicolor glory. He sulked.

"Stop that." Jubal gave his ponytail a yank. Dei resisted the urge to bite. "We won't stay forever, you're right. But we can stay long enough to take you home."

"They miss you, you know." Radueriel had taken over the piano, though one arm had snaked around his shoulders to hold him closer and keep the shadows at bay. She could do more with one hand on the piano than any Hindu god could with one hundred. At the bar, men on the verge of unconsciousness lifted their heads and their spirits and paid their tabs. The music dispelled the smoke and depression. "The very least you could do is stop by and say hello."

It would be very easy to just give in..."No." But it wouldn't matter. "Happy New Year to both of you. Give Tyler and Opal my regards, but tell them that once again, I will not be joining them. Tell them to stop trying." He stood, gathering his coat and scarf and shadow.

"I don't like it when you make my daughter cry, you know." His voice was conversational, but his eyes were pure rage. "Because that's what she does. So does Tyler- every fucking year when you pull this shit."

He paused for a moment at the door. "And what, precisely, do you think I do every year?" Icy wind skittered across the bar, brought up short by the slamming of the door. The strains of a blues piano followed him out into the night.

..........................................

Oh, Jesus Christ on a crutch! That was not supposed to turn out that way. It was supposed to be happy, damn it! Stop it with the angst, you stupid little angst-muffin! Ugh. I suppose it's fitting, though; New Years is not a happy time for him- for any of them, really. But this was definitely supposed to be less half-drunken-depression and more bittersweet-reunion-and-reconciliation.

I've no idea who composed Black Anemones- I only know I heard it on WQXR (the silly Princeton classical music station) once, and it just seemed so utterly and absolutely depressing...It's the sort of highly obscure thing Dei would have in his repertoir (faugh, spelling!) just for the express purpose of angsting on New Year's Eve. *D'oi*
Theme Songs:

seventh grade: Tubthumping, though it would take too long to explain why. Also, How Lovely to be a Woman from Bye, Bye, Birdie- but that, too, would take a great deal of time to explain.

Closing Time, by Semisonic, as well as Alcohol and Insomnia by BNL for eighth grade.

The whole soundtrack from Les Mis (especially Stars, Do You Hear, and Turning) and all of Mirrorball (Sarah McLachlan, especially Fear, Possession, and Good Enough) for ninth grade. And Everything's Gonna Be Alright (Shawn Mullins), but that's true for every day, every year, for ever and ever- though it started freshman year.

10th- Let it Be (The Beatles), Angel and Do What You Have to Do (Sarah) for the beginning of the year. No Angel and My Lover's Gone (Dido) for the middle, and Nowhere Road (Fastball) for the whole fucking thing. Beautiful Day, U2 (oddly enough), and, of course, American Pie (Don McLean).

Last year; Song of Tears (Adiemus); Long December (Counting Crows); the fifth track of Hampsterdance (yes, the p does belong there); Want it All Back (Yoko Kanno, Cowboy Bebop); Barely Breathing, Duncan Sheik. And several other things- Paved Over Paradise, Bloody Sunday (U2), Heart of America (Counting Crows)- but those are minor themes, ones that acompany Long December and Song of Tears...

This year- Memento and Serena, Duncan Sheik; Ordinary World, Duran Duran; anything and everything by Nickel Creek but especially Reasons Why and Out of the Woods; All Hallowed Eve's Dance, Mummer's Dance, The Highwayman, The Old Ways, and a bunch of others, Loreena McKennit; In This World, Moby.

Most of them are associations, not mood or emotion themes. A few are simple mood themes- Nowhere Road, for instance, and Ordinary World. Others are quite misleading; Serena and Alcohol and American Pie- there are some very long explanations that go with those, and they aren't at all what you'd think. Some (Closing Time) are just things that I've heard over and over again; (cold water cold wind sandy rocks and beaches and Maine and birthdays) things that evoke key moments of certain years...

So, yes, the past five years encompass a rather lengthy soundtrack for me...we'll see what music plays in the background over the next few years, eh?

Happy New Year, by the way. I'm not done with this yet, but it's a start.

(And the song, the Nickel Creek version of the song is part of a movie soundtrack! *dies* Mineminemineminemine!)