No no no no no! Damnit, Trent, I am not writing a character with mpd! If you were posessed, fine. Schizophrenic, even better. But not mpd! I won't do it! You can't make me do it! This story was supposed to be fun and I am not going to use you as a vessel for every fucked up thing that ever happened to everyone in my life and my stories. So stop throwing those fucking disturbing snippets at me because it's not going to-

...What the hell did you just do to Virgil. Oh, fuck you broke my brain and I am not pleased.

Excuse me, I have to go look up various mental disorders. This is what I get for listening to Wind on repeat play. Bad Akeboshi. No more bad, angsty Engrish for you.

And Trent was supposed to be such a fluffy character. ...Well, by the time he got to the Nano, at any rate. There is that free thought bit from over October break, but that doesn't really count...damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

If I were thinking in terms of Gravitation, Trent would be Ryuuichi, Virgil would be Hiro, Nova would be K (only not as inherently cool and suffering from PMS), and Perry would be Sakano- series Sakano, not oav Sakano. Because I'm evil like that.

And Shining Collection is the awesomest song ever, and I think the music from Gravitation is well on its way to stealing my soul.

This story is not supposed to have a soundtrack that's on crack. It's not.

But, since soundtracks are more fun than...uh...really fun things, and since I just woke up from another excessively long nap during which I dreamed about my dad pretending to be King of the Jews, I think I deserve to be just a little random.

...Waitaminute. *applies head to wall* Why the hell was my dad pretending to be King of the Jews? And not in the Jesus sense either, this was the "Look at me with my furry cape and crown all you Jewish people, now give me homage and fork over all your post cards!" kind of sense. There were rabid horses, too. And sketchy people on busses.

I need to get more sleep at regular hours if this is going to keep happening. Oi. And body? Quit that. I already told you we weren't dying, so you need to stop. *sigh* All the forces of the universe are conspiring against me, I swear.

Okay, so, soundtracks.

Boffo definitely has a lot of Jewel and Sarah MacLachlan and other angstyfemme music; also, a lot of random Yoko Kanno/Cowboy Bebop music, and some random folk/country stuff thrown in there as well. A little They Might Be Giants rounds out the crack factor.

DDD (NaNoWriMo2001) was nearly all They Might Be Giants, because there's nothing better for dream sequences. There was a lot of BNL in DDD too (I love my acronyms...) because they're also great for dream sequences.

Seventh Hour (NaNoWriMo2002) was Loreena McKennit and Sixpence None the Richer because "The Old Ways" and "Breathe Your Name" were basically the entire plot. I'd put those two songs on a loop and just write, and that would be the end of it. That's probaly why I didn't finish that one...But yeah. Celtic folkish music and creepyfemme stuff.

Song of Shadows doesn't exactly have a soundtrack, since it spans several centuries and lifetimes...but a lot of Sondheim stuff from the 40s and 50s works really well with the characters. So, a lot of Dawn Upshaw and opera/instrumental sort of things. Opera Babes and Bond would work really well, I think. I haven't found any underlying themes in the story beyond sex and violence and the like, so it's hard to find music to work with the story.

Godless Avatar is lots and lots of Spock's Beard, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Luna Sea. It oozes angst and violence. *grin* The story just tends to ooze bad art and bad crack, mind you...and I suppose, with that much SB, the soundtrack also oozes crack. Really bad crack. Like, Rain of Revelation and Thoughts bad crack. Mmm, crack.

All Directions, GO is now apparently setting itself to lots and lots of anime music. Thank god for Sarah's drive, that's all I've got to say. Gravitation, Naruto, Hellsing, Bebop, Wolf's Rain...oh yeah. Lots of 80's rock music, too. Need to download me some of that. This story is on so much crack...

The talking fish are just the beginning...

New GA.

ADG will start off with a funeral, and end with...a wedding? Too cliche. It'll end with a sunset, I think, and two friends watching the skyline.

But it begins with a funeral, and Virgil remembering.

I can't wait. *grin*

FFVIII- Find Your Way.

The music broke my brain, mommy, it wasn't my fault!

Ng. Damn you, music requesters! You don't follow Find Your Way with Force Your Way unless you're begging for further crack.

*goes off to fix brain*

I would like to take a moment to thank several major deities for streaming audio radio stations; I have found a station that plays nothing but video game music, and am currently listening to something operatic from Xenosaga. Music from Mystic Quest is coming up next.

Yay! GamingFM. Damn, does this song bring back memories.

So, today in Renegades, Virgil was sent to the Cayman Islands while Spots took his place as the future technomage of the party. Spots in Revolution was the misanthropic double agent working for Haven and the Revolution; he's a fanatic, and in the end he's the one responsible for the collapse of the Tower. That was the biggest spoiler I could ever possibly reveal, so now if I ever write Revolution, the whole thing is ruined for you.

Now Spots is trying to get to the Shadowrealm, at any cost. He's suffering from a curse inflicted by a demon he found on a dig; the only way for him to get it lifted is to find someone in the Shadowrealm willing and able to help. His curse is basically one of sleeplessness and low level paranoia; it does other things, random things, like turning bullets into chickens six times out of fourty-nine or some other strange percentage like that, but that will have to get run by Ai Ling first.

Spots is fun to play because he's got very little consideration for anyone but himself; he's a self-serving opportunistic misanthropist, and he doesn't care who knows it. The only reason he's involved in Nuala and Elle's little group is because he owes Moshe for service rendered immediately after he got hit with the curse, and because he sees them as his quickest way into Shadow. (Ai Ling really needs to set us up with Department 7, because our group just isn't going to go anywhere, otherwise.)

...I love how the scientific name for swordfish basically translates to "sword sword". They're quick little buggers, too; not as big as marlins or basking sharks, but deadly fast anyway. I'm not sure how quick marlins are, but they're related to swordfish...

Bluefin tuna are the largest species of tuna, reaching nearly ten feet in length and over a ton in weight...not spectacular to look at like yellowfins, bonitos, or skipjacks, however.

I'm learning about fish. Yay.

Poor, poor Trent. I haven't even written him, but I love him already. He's just so adorable, in that psychotic, has-no-grip-at-all-on-sanity kind of way. Yay, NaNoWriMo. *joy*

Knock knock? This is why I hate netscape. I realize that IE is a product of Satan, but I don't know how to code in Netscape. >_< I'm very sorry, to those of you who use Netscape, but I'm kinda clueless on how to make it work. Blogger says it'll work, and then it doesn't. *irritation* Blah.

There. Now it should work in netscape; i still dunno what using a mac will do to the layout, but I think I just need to dummy-proof the coding and it'll work just fine.

I'd forgotten how much fun it could be to spend hours working on this sort of thing; next semester, I am so taking a compsci class of some sort. And then I'll have to start making webpages just for the sake of designing them.

I expect this particular layout will get to me eventually, and I'll take it down. I can only take so much of my computer staring at me.

So, I took a nap, and woke up wishing I hadn't, and then I decided, "Hey, this blog layout is too happy! I'm PMSing, and I want the whole world to know it!"

I love how I'm always the one complaining about other people having layouts that are too high-contrast, and hurt my eyes- and here I am with black and blaring yellow. I hate the color yellow. This was entirely an accident caused by the slip of a hand in photoshop on the color slider.

I rather like the way it looks, though. I'm waaaatching youuuu.

The blogtitle is Bo's fault, because it was very early and it seemed a ridiculous statement. Rather fitting for my mood, when taken out of context. :D

My next project will be to redo the archives page, and mess with my lj layout, I suppose. I don't really get the tags for livejournal, though; this layout was really just an experiment in XHTML, to see if I could pull it off. It took me way too long.

I haven't eaten since lunch, and I don't intend to eat anything, either. This is a new experience for me; I expect I'll go to bed early.

I rather want to write a Wild Arms snippet now...and my stickers will be coming in next week. Yay, huzzah.

I'm dehydrated, and on a hormonal downswing...this would normally call for angsty song lyrics, but...I haven't got any.

"Sorry, Nova; I've got plans with Trent for tonight."
"Huh?"
"Well, I don't mind the company, Virgil, you know that..."
"No, I've got plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Wha-mph!"
"So, you see, I really don't have time for you."
"You-you-Oh, I don't even have words!"
*slam*
"You kissed me! Gross! Ew! Eeeeeewwww! Virgil germs! In my mouth! Eeeewwww!"
"Dude. Calm down. It got rid of her, didn't it? And it's not like I'm diseased or anything, you can stop gargling water from the Sound; you'll get yourself sick."

Meeeeehhhhhhhhh.

Yay for new fonts.

I was thinking All Directions Go today...

"Wait, how the fuck did all this happen?"
"Well, see, there was this really big laser..."
"You're fucking kidding me."
"Whaaat?"

Really big lasers. That's my plot, right there. Nothing else- just really big lasers. Trent thinks its ridiculous, too.

It's really Futurama meets Waterworld...only Virgil can't decide if he wants to play Bender or Zoidburger. Oi.

There is no new Godless Avatar today, because I didn't draw it. There is, however, a variation on a theme in the deviantart account. I'll have the other one done this weekend, I'm sure, and I'll have the GA page up either late tonight or tomorrow morning.

I didn't have English today, and I don't have geo tomorrow; how screwy is that? Darby will be in Houston, so she cancelled. >_< I have decided that tomorrow morning I shall either finish the t-shirt design and at least two GA pages, or I shall go for a walk around the lake and read Henry James. I shall get things done tomorrow! I'll pay my telephone bill, too. Really.

I wrote a Wet!Virgil snippet in Moneta last night...Wet!Virgil being Virgil's incarnation in the nanonovel. I've decided to make it a place to put as many cameos as possible; does anyone want to appear in my novel? Does anyone want anyone else to appear in the novel? I'll take requests, gladly. I know Solneki and Mordant will show up, and Nenia with Rethen and Hunter. D&D characters of ages past will appear briefly, and various members of the Boffo and Song of Shadows casts. I may even bring in characters from DDD and Seventh Hour and connect all three novels (novel and attempted novel) together...Hm...

I'm just going to have fun writing this- If I get stuck, I'll bring in the mutant lesbian ninja cabbages, and see if Virgil can come up with a way to explain them away while Trent challenges them to a duel.

Oh! Eee! Jason Mraz is recording a live album in two weeks! A new live album! One with the band! I love the energy on his studio recording, but the mellowness of his live performance is just as appealing. Yay!

Firstly, anyone ever writing anything with even a few fantasy/sci-fi elements should check out The Nano Fantasy/Sci-Fi Dares Thread in the Nano forums. It's because of those damn things that I don't have a workable plot- but I do have post-it note cats!

Secondly, things are getting muddled; I may abandon the nano journal and talk about it here, since I haven't been keeping up much with this blog, and I won't have much else to say during November.

Of course, last November was completely different; last November was severely traumatic, what with me being sick and thinking I had cancer and all that crap. (No, y'all didn't miss anything, I just didn't tell you. I was being stupid, and it didn't last very long.) This November is looking to be relatively trauma free, and I can babble about trauma freely on lj.

So. The idea for the nano as it stands: Waterworld meets Fight Club meets Urban Arcana meets The Revolution is Over.

Yes, I am on bad crack. And it looks like I'll be writing about Trent whether I want to or not, and Virgil will also figure prominently. I think the two of them have become multipurpose characters- Trent because he's a few cards short of a full deck, and Virgil because he's secretly a dimension travelling space pirate. *sigh* They'll pop up out of the blue anywhere, make a few snarky comments, and disappear.

But the nano- it's all quite vague right now, but the gist is that a company (we'll say HavenCore, and put Haven somewhere in the Pacific, far away from where this story takes place) came out with a weather control device (mock not my cliches, for they are sharp and pointy and full of doom!) and used it to take over the world. But, as is illustrated in Revolution, HavenCore employees are hardly intelligent, and all they really managed to do was replicate Noah's flood, only about fourty times worse. It rained for approximately five years in some places.

The story starts out in what was once New York; after the floods, more people died from not having sanitized water or functioning medical technology than died from drowning or flood related injuries. It's been a few years since the rains have stopped, and the population has been decimated several times over, espeically in the metropolitan and suburban areas of the US.

I know it's sad that I'm drawing on a Kevin Costner movie for inspiration, but the real reason behind this came from driving over a bridge on the way back from the mall; there was a building along the side of the river that looked as though it were rising out of the water from the angle I was at. So, in places where there were tall buildings or in places of high elevation, there is land, and remains of civilization. But the area between the Rockies and the Appalachians is more or less one giant, brackish lake. Most of California is gone, sunk into the ocean. Stupid earthquakes. Seattle is still thriving, and didn't notice much difference after the flood. New York is underwater, but people still live in the gutted remains of the taller buildings. New Jersey is gone. There's a very large amount of physical improbability in this, but I'm really not interested in looking up elevations and slopes and soil types for various areas; some places were just rained on, others suffered hurricanes, tornadoes, and firestorms. New Jersey, being mostly a swamp, sank for a while, stayed up, sank again, then finally burned down, fell over, and then sank into the swamp. On a good day, when the tide is low, you can see bits of Hilsborough and Watchung, but that's about it.

Virgil and Trent live on a houseboat, and run a taxi service of sorts. They've got a converted bathtub tied to a gondola made of old aluminum siding and office furniture. You put your baggage in the bathtub, and one of them will take you wherever you need to go.

Being New York, the water is pretty scummy, but there are areas (Central Park and the like) where the water is startlingly clear. The fish have taken over, and there are rumors of mermaids living in the Met and the MoMa.

Feck. Zela and Arxi might make a cameo here; this story is just begging for pirates. And where there are pirates, there will be ninjas, and where there are ninjas, there will be cheese. And those mermaids weren't there a moment ago. *sigh*

I may scrap the idea of HavenCore, and just have it be Atlantis' revenge- Illuminati, anyone? (I should read that book again, if only for the info on sex, drugs, and conspiracy theories.)

Anyway, Trent has no memory of the last twenty years of his life, so he missed the flood and the anarchy and all that jazz; Virgil fished him out of the Sound one day and decided to keep him. Virgil might know more than he's letting on; Trent isn't sane by any stretch of the imagination, though he does a very good impression of a sane person.

He wavers between an absentminded, somewhat immature adult of 26, and the bratty, orphaned problem child he was before his black out. He still suffers from occasional black outs where he'll disappear for a few hours at a time. Someone usually finds him and returns him to Virgil, who had the foresight to give him dog tags; Trent will have no idea where he went or what he was doing. Sometimes he'll just turn up in the bow, rocking back and forth and babbling incoherently to himself- Virgil usually gets really, really freaked out by this and really doesn't like having to deal with it. He'll typically leave Trent there until he's quieted down a bit, and then see what he can do to help.

Ah, The X-Files just became an inspiration. This is what I get for reading Mulder/Krycek slash at three in the morning. *sigh*

Virgil and Trent are not in any sort of a relationship; Trent owes Virgil his life, and Virgil is something of a humanitarian. He was tired of trying to find excuses to not move in with Nuala. (Should probably ask Sarah if it's okay to include Nuala...) He honestly likes Trent, and they get along quite well, as long as Trent is being sane. (Trent is older than Virgil by a few years, but is much less mature most of the time.) Perry will also show up (from Aviators, where Trent originally came from) as Virgil's friend. Perry trains homing pigeons, naturally; they're one of the more effective means of communication in the world after the flood.

"What are you doing?!"
"Trying to blow things up; I should think that would be obvious."
"Damnit, man! Don't you know how hard it is to find TNT in a post-apocalyptic world?"

If vampires appear in this story, I'll probably be very annoyed at myself...people keep asking questions at the nano forums, and it pisses me off to see people taking Anne Rice's universe as law. *grr* I'm enjoying the books, but I still think her take on the mythos is utter bunk.

Character profiles and portraits for Virgil and Trent will be forthcoming at a later date, as will further plot aspects, world characteristics, and minor characters. There may even be a villain or three.

The title, however, for all intents and purposes, is still All Directions GO. I blame the parfait.

Um, right, about the Boffo thing? Yeah. I *heart* Opal and Dei. Not as an actualy couple- that wouldn't work all that well, what with his guilt complex and her self esteem issues, but their interaction just gives me warm fuzzy feelings.

The idea behind that has been bouncing around for a while; it just felt like a good time to write it.

I really don't have too much to say about it; it's fairly self explanatory GrownUpOpal!Angst, involving Tyler indirectly, since everything involves Tyler indirectly.

Been a little while since my last Boffo snippet; I feel the need to do Song of Shadows next. Maybe some taste Von angst, or Cata and Zyn being awkward. Hmm...

They had tea together, sometimes. When her husband wasn't with her and when he knew he could run no further without being caught, they would sit together and share a cup of tea like civilized humans. They would enjoy a quiet laugh over the thought, and then drink their tea.

Sometimes, he brought cookies. Cheap, store bought cookies with thin sugary icing, the kind that came in a bag and had a pleasant crunch to them. She would try to smile, but her face had become sculpted over the years; flat and featureless like fine marble. Her smiles looked half a step away from tears.

This time, he brought nothing but an umbrella, as it was raining quite heavily. She had nothing, not even a coat; it was summer, and the rain was like tepid tea. Her hair and clothing were dry, as though she hadn't just been strolling in the sudden violence of the storm. Rain did not dare fall where it was not welcome.

"So."

The clink of spoon on saucer set the rythym to their conversation. Her voice had never been anything but a song.

"Indeed."

Clink, slide, slosh, clink. It was a very carefully choreographed maneuver.

"You've been well? Tyler sends his regards, and says that I should arrange the best time to kidnap you for a family reunion."

"Don't be silly; I don't have a family to be reunited with. But yes, I've been well. I've been living in Paris, with a part time roommate. You'd like him, I think. His name is Toby."

Her eyes fell to the table between them; he was wearing nothing but black, stark, unrelieved black, and she could only tolerate the darkness for so long. Her eyes had grown oddly sensitive to variations of non-color.

"We are your family, Dei. If I had a feather for every time I've told you that, I wouldn't need my own wings. It's been twenty years, and we're still at least a little human. Don't you think you've repented enough?"

"Most dear, adored, and precious of gemstones, I can never repent enough." He was teasing her, but his jest fell sadly short. Her lips pursed a warning, and he shrugged. His smile was small, shy. "You always find me eventually, and if Tyler tried to see me, I doubt I could keep him away."

"Don't be dense. You know how he feels about you- if you don't make the first move, he certainly won't. He'll just assume you hate him for some reason or other- but I suppose you do the same thing, don't you?" She stirred her tea with a little more vehemence than necessary, still not looking at him. "Brothers. Honestly, I'm sick of being your go between. If I tell Tyler to stop being such a fucking coward, will you do the same?"

"I don't make promises I won't keep. But I'll make you a deal."

Green eyes met blue, and this time she refused to look away. "What sort of deal?" She was wary, having had enough of deals to last a century.

"Give me an incentive to visit, and I will. When are you going to spawn me a niece or a nephew, little sister?"

His sudden good humor startled her as much as his question; the spoon fell with a cymbal crash. She did not answer, and stared into her tea as though divining her own thoughts therein.

His hand stole across the table to furtively brush her fingers. She could feel his worry like a sudden drop in air pressure. "Opal? I'm sorry- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just tell me what I did wrong and I won't do it again-"

"Stop that. You don't need to apologize, you never need to apologize. Not to me. Not to any of us. I...I was going to tell you, it's why I came." She let a moment of silence calm her mind with its familiarity. Blessed Shateiel.

"What happened?"

"It's nothing- nothing happened. But Tyler wants children- he feels he owes it to your father, and he knows you won't have any."

"Does he, now?" He was amused, but did nothing to deny the truth. "Is he still insinuating things, or has he finally grown up?"

Her warning glance banished his smirk. "Neither of you are particularly mature at your best, Dei. And you know it's true; we'd know otherwise." Her superior smirk vanished as quickly as it came. "But there's a problem with having children- we aren't human enough. Were he a normal halfblood and I a normal nephilim-"

They both coughed politely into their tea, choosing to ignore the absurdity of her statement.

"You see, your father was practically an Other. Given the proper training, he could have been a demi-god. Jubal passed on more than just his music when I was born; I've got the Mark, and it wasn't meant to go past Jubal. He was supposed to be the last, and the line was never meant to continue beyond him."

"It's a miracle you made it past infancy, given how badly Fate, Heaven, Hell, and all of your parents had it out for you."

"She rolled her eyes. "The point I'm trying to make, without the help of your commentary, is that we're infertile. There will be no nieces or nephews to entice you home, since we're human enough to be mammals but not human enough to get around that 'touch of death' thing the angels and demons have going for them."

He wasn't entirely sure what to say in response. "I'd say I'm sorry, but that hardly seems adequate."

She scoffed a tiny scoff; it was very ladylike and demure. "Please. I don't consider it much of a loss; unlike my mother, I can't get around pregnancy and childbirth. And I'm horrible with kids- wasn't loved enough as a child and all that. I wouldn't care, if it weren't for Tyler."

"Does he know?"

"Not yet. He'll be devastated, and I don't think I could bear that."

"I am sorry, though. Your children would have been beautiful, and I would've enjoyed spoiling them."

She found a very fascinating spot on the table to stare at. "Our kids would look like our fathers. Len and Leala's traits aren't transferrable."

"I take after my mother, Opal."

"She was tall, slender, and dark haired. Her build was similar to mine or to Jubal's, and your father had black hair, too. You and Tyler look more alike than you think." Her voice was low and lilting. It's music was soft, yet compelling, and he could feel the notes of it reverberate in his skull.

"We look nothing alike, Opal. Stop singing right now or I swear to you I'll either go to Hell or give myself a vasectomy."

Her anger was worse than her deceit, but hardly unexpected. "Hell would only keep you for so long before Lilith kicked you out. And don't try to pretend you haven't thought about it, Dei. Twenty years isn't so long that I haven't forgotten what happened that day."

"I seem to recall being completely and utterly insane at the time, which is what I'd have to be right now to take you up on this! Think for a minute, damnit! When he finds out- and he would, you know he would, how do you think he'll react? Do you honestly think he'd ever forgive either of us? God damn it, Opal, he's my brother, and I won't do that to him!" Once, his rage had been thunderous and violent. Now, he could rattle teacups, but would ultimately kill with venom.

She shook her head a little sadly. "I know you won't. But it was worth a try, you know? I'll have to tell him eventually; I promise I won't speak of this again until then."

"You won't bring it up again, ever, you mean." He scowled. "Twenty years ago is one thing, Opal, but now...there are too many other factors, and you know it."

"It may be my only choice, and if it's what Tyler wants..." She shrugged. "Would you argue with him?"

He bit his lip and stared at the fascinating tabletop. "You know I can't."

"Yes. I know." Her smile was a half step away from tears. "I know all too well."

Click. Clink. Two teacups settled into their saucers, the song ended save for the soft counterpoint of the rain.

"And what is love-"
"Not love, that's not what-"
"This is about you and not me, this is not my-"
"Home. Take me home, I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be with-"
"You think things will fix themselves so easily? You think your petty desires matter? What do you think you-"
"Lost. I'm lost, we're both lost. Fools. Misfits."
"Yes. Maybe we are. Are we done here?"
"Did we ever really start?"

"Sleep does that to a person. It changes their perception of cheese."
"This sounds like a job for...The OED!"

Ahh...there were other terribly amusing things said at breakfast, but I cannot remember them for the life of me. Why are people always so much more amusing when they're half asleep?

DOMO ARIGATOU, MR LEGATO!

Bad Trigun. Very bad.

But mmm, sexy Wolfwood. Sexy, sexy Wolfwood. I adore his American seiyuu's voice.

*sigh* Hamlet, stop peeling off the wall. Bad Shakespeare.

Hmm...since I'll have to do it eventually anyway, I may just write my nanonovel around Virgil, in an Urban Arcana-esque steampunk setting.

However, that would get me more interested in the setting than the characters, and that's really, really dangerous in writing these things.

Then again, DDD grew up around the concept of the disease, then the main character, and then the world...and Seventh Hour was just a crack induced free thought excersize that produced 10,000 words in one sitting.

Those were all plot devices first; I didn't base either of those stories around the characters until I began writing.

But writing Virgil would be fun; in a past life, maybe, or an alternate universe. I'd have to work out world logistics and minor things like plot and characters, but it would definitely be fun.

Hmm...things to think about.

Gaaahhhh, Blue Gender is such an awful show! The animation is terrible, the plot is cliche, and the dubbing is just plain sketchy. Bring on Bebop, damnit!

*sigh* Stupid cartoon network...if they ever stop showing Bebop, I'll cry. I really will. Hn.

Deeply disturbing post in the nano journal; I really don't think I'll write about Trent, because he's more fucked up than I thought he was. That, and I don't really feel like trying to rewrite Fight Club.

The real question, in Trent's case, is which one is the other's imaginary friend. I'm still not sure. And the other main character doesn't have a name, which bothers me. I can't get a grip on characters without names; my own situation probably has something to do with that. *shrug*

I've no idea what I feel like writing, unfortunately. The concept of steampunk intrigues me, because I always picture it in my head as some sort of Sherlock Holmes on crack kind of thing. Might be fun.

I think I'll just hang around the forums for a while and see if I get inspired...this is a rather half assed way of going about it, but what can I say? I'm a career under-achiever. *shrug*

I just realized that Zach tried to open a doorway down there. He'd probably have better luck opening the door...

Or, if I were Edgar A. Poe, unclosing it.

*snort*

Kill the City

New webcomic. Still drooling over the art; very clean, strong lines and coloring skills that I only wish I had. Very Bebop-esque; sort of like a cross between Lex and Faith. The artist is only 16, and that makes me very sad. I absolutely love that disjointed style- I first saw it in D101 and I've wished I could draw like that ever since. (It's gotten to the point where I really can't stand traditional anime art; I know they're considered hacks, but I love the blending of western and Japanese comic art that's in vogue right now. Of course, the artists in question are usually male, which means that they distort the female figure to the point where it's just plain disgusting. *sigh* Stupid boys.) And, of course, black and white is one of my favorite medias, only I suck at it. Alas. Color helps hide mistakes, but doing things in black and white requires a good grasp of light sources and things like that. You know, things I haven't developed to my own satisfaction yet. *doublesigh*

I need to take an art class.

Already adoring the characters- this one isn't shounen ai, for once. It could be, but I don't think it will be. I love Wade's hair, and Sloane's suspenders. There's just something about the button down shirt and suspenders that seems inherently sexy no matter what. Man or woman, doesn't matter- still sexy. Mm, suspenders.

Alas for my lack of talent. *shrug* Just keep plugging away, and eventually something good will come of it, I guess.

...I suddenly feel the urge to read Hyperion again. Just because of the Tesla trees, you know, and the Church of Pain. And Keats, of course. I should actually read the poem, and the last book. Maybe I should try to draw the Shrike, or Rhadamantha Nemesis. *shiver* Now there's evil, right there.

The second book was so much better than the first or the third, but the evolution of the world that took place between the second and third is just fascinating. And the first book is cool because it just rocks out stylistically, and because it sets up everything. I do love how the Catholic Church is so completely and utterly evil, though.

Look, I still babble when I'm actually awake- only now I pay a little more attention to sentence structure.

And when will you be going to sleep
she asks, her voice not unkind but not as forgiving as it once was

when i can close my eyes and see only my eyelids
i reply
when i can hear only quiet in the silence and when i do not taste blood in the back of my throat

when the wind does not mourn her lost lover and the stars do not grumble to themselves and when the voices in my head do not demand a place to sit around the table of my soul

they say to one another, eat and be merry
but i think they will find little sustenance there

and if i sing
she asks, kindly and sadly and full of pity that i can not swallow lest i choke
the lullabye you once loved and if i hold you in my arms and if you can call me mother or lover or friend for the night, what then? will you sleep?

your lullabye brings only ashen memories
and your arms nothing but the claustrophobic terror of iron bars. i would call you nothing at all and still i would not sleep
not until i can dance and not stumble upon the rocky foothills of my past
i say softly slowly sincerely
i will sleep when lies no longer seep from underneath my tongue, bitter and poisonous to others but sweet honey to myself
would you like a kiss?

you mock me
she cries, affronted and astounded that i should have words of my own
you mock my heart and my caring soul

but
i scoff
your caring soul and lovely heart are not my concern when children tear their eyes out at my feet
i will sleep when i am at peace

she is hard now and so cold with winter light flashing black in her eyes
then you will never sleep and peace will forever be a stranger in this place

so be it
i shall wait for the mountains to wear down their molars into dust and sand and when there is nothing left but stones i may try once again
to close my eyes.

She held the world between her hands, her rough and callused hands, the way she held clay on the wheel. She curled her fingers over its gritty surface, and watched it spin itself away into oblivion.

As it spun, she molded it, shaped it, changed it, and in doing so, changed herself. She became the world and all things in it; she became the wheel and the clay and the hands that lifted up the sides in a graceful arc.

And lo, I have taken something useless and made something beautiful, as she threw the clay of the world into a cup to catch the tears of the universe.

And then the dream ended, but perhaps it had only just begun, as things are won't to do when they have yet to be finished. She opened her eyes, and was still the world and the universe and every tear ever shed; she opened her eyes to golden sunshine that was only light reflecting off the curtains.

Beneath the curtains and tapestries and soft satin coverings, machines hummed to themselves and to the Sleeper on the bed. She was dreaming still, because he was now Awake.

And he could only be Awake in her dreams, because she'd been waiting so long and had given up hope to the point where she had never wanted to have this dream again.

It hurt too much. It always had and always would and she would curse the dreaming forever and ever until the world caved in on itself. The dreaming had destroyed them all.

But he was Awake. And she recognized him twice.

"Retribution."

"Where is my follower?"

"Dead and gone beyond the dreaming, as you should know, else you'd never have named her yours."

"We are all dead and gone, then. The dreamer?"

"I have served Retribution's cause. Your cause."

"I had another name, once."

"I am dreaming, and you are lying, because he is dead. You turned me into a monster and destroyed one of the core concepts of reality all for your petty revenge."

"Nemesis was a goddess; she chose me to deal out Her retribution. Revenge dealt in Her name and for Her purpose can hardly be called petty."

"Why is Entropy gone, then? It was unnecessary! You destroyed her for no reason, no reason at all!"

"...I had another name once, and you were more than just a tool for Her purpose."

"Stop changing the subject! This is another dream, another fucking dream- I want to wake up! I never want to dream again, damn you! Never!"

His eyes were dark and his skin still paler than it had been on many a starlit night on the grass of their amphitheatre. His voice was still refined and his gaze still piercing. But too much had changed for her to ever believe in reality again.

"Anya. That was your name. Anya Udacha, from Mir. I met you at a concert, and played my guitar. And I asked you to marry me and we made love under a birch tree at the top of a hill and you said yes. And then I fell into the dreaming. Your name was Anya, and you were a Somnist in training and I...I was..."

"Stop." She was begging but his eyes were turned inwards, remembering what was most painful to her. "Stop, I want to wake up."

"I was called Zacharias Mandhatri, and I loved you more than I ever would have thought possible. And you called my name on the dreamsea but I could not answer because She had already taken me. I was called Zacharias Mandhatri, until I fell into the dreaming. And you loved me back, because you wore my ring and whispered in my ear and cried when I left."

There was wonder in his eyes, to counter the tears in hers. "Anya? Anya, lyuba, stop that crying. It's over. You're awake."

"No, no, you lie, I'll never wake up again, I'm lost in the storm and this is all a dream..."

He stood, testing legs that had been unused for months. "Anya, Anya, beautiful Anya, Nemesis' best beloved daughter- She releases you, and you are awake. We are awake together, don't you see?"

"Not now, not after so long, it isn't possible, I'll drown here forever..."

"Anya. Look at me."

She could not look away; she could never look away. "Z-zach?"

"Come on, Anya. It's over. It's finally over."

She was dreamblind, and the thought frightened her more than anything else; the world was slipping through her fingers and would shatter onthe floor. "Zach."

"Yes. Let's go home. To Toby and Jane and Leto. They're waiting for us. We're finally awake." He still smiled the way he used to, still made her love him without any effort at all.

"Home?" She'd been lost for so long. "But...I can't go home now."

"Anya, Anya- Beloved Annie. Believe. Believe as I always have, in your own abilities. Let's go home."

She had no choice but to follow him to the door- she had already followed him to hell and back, what was a trip to the door? She would follow him anywhere.

She slid her hand into his, and felt the familiar guitar calluses and the comforting warmth of his palm and felt her fear melt away like a flashflood on the dreamsea. He smiled at her, that brilliant smile she had lived for, once. Maybe it really was over, and she could finally go home. It had been so long since she'd seen home.

He took hold of the doorknob and looked at her, his face shining with the love she'd been without for so long. Her smile grew a bit bolder, and she nodded. It was time to go home.

And when he opened the doorway, there was nothing but light.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's something so absolutely lovely about the word 'fuck'. An amazing word, it really is. Aside from it's versatility (noun, verb, adjective all at once) and it's usefulness, it has an aesthetically pleasing simplicity to it that begs to be used as often as possible.

Go on, give it a whirl.

Fuck. Lovely word, no? Fuck fuck fuck. And you can alter it to make it even better! Fuckity Fuck. Fucktacular. Fucktastic. Fucktabulous.

...I don't even fucking know anymore. My head isn't screwed on properly, my brains aren't sewed in properly, and everything falls apart.

I hate feeling helpless, and I hate the power coincidence holds over my life.

Rather funny, since I believe fate to be the only deity worth mentioning most of the time

O, Fortuna;
All the saints and angels
staged a revolution
And god was cast down
into hell
where Satan chose
to forgive him.

I really do need to stop doing this at vaguely blasphemous hours of the morning. The snippet is DDD, my 2001 NaNoWriMo novel; unfinished, but over 50000 words. That would be the ending. A shame I don't know any of the plot.

I always did like writing Anya, though. Such a tortured little girl...

I get weird when I'm this tired...i'm turning into Tom. *sigh* Good night...

Virgil

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day

i have completely and utterly lost any and all of my creative ability. this is probably because i'm too tired to lift my head off my shoulder, but i prefer to think of it as a massive case of writers block.

i've spent so long convincing myself that relationships are a futile exercise in heartbreak that i'm not sure what to do now that i want one.

What I love is how I don't need to have my eyes open to type here. I can just sit here with my chin digging into my shoulder and my eyes closed, typing clickety click away at my kyboard, completely not awake.

I smell waffles, which is strange because it's been quite a while since brunch. the strawberry rhubarb stuff had too much strawberry in it.

I really do look like I'm asleep, aside from the fingers, constantly moving and doing something. doesn't spcify what something, just that something is being done.

holy fork, i'm tired. and its not so much that im lonely or even thst im crushing on someone (which im not, not really i dont think) i just feel...i dont even know. too fucking tired. this has been a day full of profanity. i enjoy the word 'fuck' so much more than i should.

and for the record, im not offended so much as rejected and dejected and a little sad. but i do understand.

this is why i dont see the appeal of being drunk. if i wanted to be stupid and uninhibited, i just wont get enough sleep.

I'd forgotten how completely and utterly traumatic last November was for me. *sigh* Now where is that post?

I'm working on my d20 character rather than my homework, because damnit, I want to. I have a meeting at 6:30, however, and it'll last for a while, I'm sure. I want to go, but at the same time, I dont. Blarg. Look, Im dropping my apostrophes left and right. Thats a bad sign, im sure of it.

He doesnt have a name, you see. Id name him Mordant, but I dont think thats who he is; Mordant is far more...spacey. My d20 modern guy is a pimp mastah! kinda guy. (no, really, hes wearing a fur trimmed coat and has a shaved head. id give him the hat, too, if i could draw it.) And Mordant wears designer flannel with Abercrombie jeans and really expensive shoes, so he cant be Mordant.

I need a naaaaame. *whines* Will post the picture in devart tonight, when its finished.

Having just uploaded two of my icons and a wallpaper to deviantart and downloaded the low-res preview of Advent Children, I can safely say that the concept still makes me cry, but it makes me cry tears of joy.

The flashback of Sephiroth walking through the flames, and Cloud-on-the-beach? Guh. Just- guh. And the fight scene? Guuuh. *droooools* And the motorcycles? Ngh. Guh. *falls over* *dies* *dies very happy, but not in complete bliss because it doesn't come out til next summer*

If Square-Enix doesn't translate it in some way, I will commit ritual suicide. Or, at the very least, pout a great deal.

Actually, scratch that. So long as I can get my hands on a copy, translated or not, I will be happy. Even if I have no idea what they're saying, I can still just watch and drool.

But please, oh please don't let this be a Spirits Within repeat. Please. Because it's the sequel to Final Fantasy VII. The game that didn't necessarily revolutionize the genre, but certainly made it far more marketable and mainstream. This isn't exactly a good thing, because it paved the way for some serious crap rpgs. But...still. The game is legendary now.

And, of all the different categories of geek that I could file myself under, I feel that I am, above all, a gamer. A console rpg gamer, if you want to get specific. Of course I'm ridiculously excited and obsessed over this. How could I not be?