Bah. Humbug.
Too zonked out to even think about writing anything. Too afraid of writing to think about writing anything.
I hate it when I actually achieve a fruitful session of introspection. Sometimes I just wanna feel miserable without knowing why, thank you very much.
*le sigh* Oh, well. C'est la vie.
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Four sketchy character sheet things up in deviantart. The only four characters in The Revolution Is Over with personalities; the only other character with a name is some random dude named Kyle, who isn't very interesting at this point.
I dunno, I feel like giving this idea a make-over of some sort...
So, it's Meg, Marc, Ghost, and Spots. Meg's got a tragic past that drove her to blowing shit up, Spots got tired of being owned by the company, Ghost used to have a body but she was killed and uploaded into a little black box that Meg carries around and Marc...Marc just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, poor baby. He's a strict pacifist and a Vegan, he works at a soup kitchen when not on the job, and he talks to his bonsai tree. It has yet to talk back, but he's still trying. And now he's a member of a rather violent terrorist group in the process of overthrowing the government.
Say it with me now...D'oi! If he weren't such a sucker for Meg's helpless female act, he wouldn't be in this mess. So it's his own fault for being chivalrous. And sexy. Because Meg probably wouldn't have asked him for help if her first reaction hadn't been "Damn...!"
Meg got a haircut and a scarf and a tattoo; she's more or less the same person, though, if a little more bitter and angry. Marc is actually drawn with some amount of skill this time (I took down all my old Revolution stuff on veradicere, so just take my word for it- it was rather awful) and has a slightly new haircut, a goatee, a new tattoo, and an Om on his t-shirt that wasn't there before. He's a hippy. Pat him on the head and tell him to stop trying so hard. Ghost is even more spastic than she used to be, but she used to just be a floating head. No idea why she's wearing that crackheaded ballerina get-up, but she's not really all there anymore, if ya know what I mean...And Spots looks ten years younger than he used to, is even angrier and more bitter than Meg, and has achieved the status of non-human, hence the barcode. I rather like his random tattoo, though...but his uniform is still retarded. All HavenSec personnel shall henceforth be referred to as "Bumblebees". Useful, I guess.
They're the good guys, those four. Kind of. Not really. Almost. Well, whatever. All's fair in love and terrorism, right?
I dunno, I feel like giving this idea a make-over of some sort...
So, it's Meg, Marc, Ghost, and Spots. Meg's got a tragic past that drove her to blowing shit up, Spots got tired of being owned by the company, Ghost used to have a body but she was killed and uploaded into a little black box that Meg carries around and Marc...Marc just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, poor baby. He's a strict pacifist and a Vegan, he works at a soup kitchen when not on the job, and he talks to his bonsai tree. It has yet to talk back, but he's still trying. And now he's a member of a rather violent terrorist group in the process of overthrowing the government.
Say it with me now...D'oi! If he weren't such a sucker for Meg's helpless female act, he wouldn't be in this mess. So it's his own fault for being chivalrous. And sexy. Because Meg probably wouldn't have asked him for help if her first reaction hadn't been "Damn...!"
Meg got a haircut and a scarf and a tattoo; she's more or less the same person, though, if a little more bitter and angry. Marc is actually drawn with some amount of skill this time (I took down all my old Revolution stuff on veradicere, so just take my word for it- it was rather awful) and has a slightly new haircut, a goatee, a new tattoo, and an Om on his t-shirt that wasn't there before. He's a hippy. Pat him on the head and tell him to stop trying so hard. Ghost is even more spastic than she used to be, but she used to just be a floating head. No idea why she's wearing that crackheaded ballerina get-up, but she's not really all there anymore, if ya know what I mean...And Spots looks ten years younger than he used to, is even angrier and more bitter than Meg, and has achieved the status of non-human, hence the barcode. I rather like his random tattoo, though...but his uniform is still retarded. All HavenSec personnel shall henceforth be referred to as "Bumblebees". Useful, I guess.
They're the good guys, those four. Kind of. Not really. Almost. Well, whatever. All's fair in love and terrorism, right?
Saturday, June 28, 2003
It is
was
has been?
A year. A year and I blinked and almost missed it even though the pictures are there to accuse me I almost missed it. And still I lie silent, like everyone else. Silence.
There was a time when silence was all I ever wanted. Now, I can hardly stand it.
A year. No tense to describe the proper verb of being; simply, a year, floating aimlessly in the timeline of my own existence...mine, and theirs. Maybe it doesn't float as easily in their memories, maybe it doesn't weigh them down quite so much.
And, as always, there is a song to go with it, a song to serve as the soundtrack to summer. How ironic that the song for summer is titled "Winter".
And I, in blinking, had almost missed the year of summer but for finally listening to the winter once again.
It's enough to make you want to scream.
was
has been?
A year. A year and I blinked and almost missed it even though the pictures are there to accuse me I almost missed it. And still I lie silent, like everyone else. Silence.
There was a time when silence was all I ever wanted. Now, I can hardly stand it.
A year. No tense to describe the proper verb of being; simply, a year, floating aimlessly in the timeline of my own existence...mine, and theirs. Maybe it doesn't float as easily in their memories, maybe it doesn't weigh them down quite so much.
And, as always, there is a song to go with it, a song to serve as the soundtrack to summer. How ironic that the song for summer is titled "Winter".
And I, in blinking, had almost missed the year of summer but for finally listening to the winter once again.
It's enough to make you want to scream.
Ahah! My music directory is reorganized. Excited, ain'cha? And now I'm downloading more Red Hot Chili Peppers, because we all need a little spice in our life sometimes.
Feel free to smack me for that one.
I have 10 Luna Sea mp3s. I'm not entirely sure how that happened, but that's the highest concentration of anything in my music folder, 'cept for Bebop. Dunno whether to be pleased, surprised, or vaguely disturbed. *shrug* Eh, well. Looking up lyrics now, or trying to...
Have momentarily given up on redoing the color scheme here. I'll do it eventually, no doubt of that, but it's being pissy so I'm not going to bother for the time being.
It's a beautiful day.
Feel free to smack me for that one.
I have 10 Luna Sea mp3s. I'm not entirely sure how that happened, but that's the highest concentration of anything in my music folder, 'cept for Bebop. Dunno whether to be pleased, surprised, or vaguely disturbed. *shrug* Eh, well. Looking up lyrics now, or trying to...
Have momentarily given up on redoing the color scheme here. I'll do it eventually, no doubt of that, but it's being pissy so I'm not going to bother for the time being.
It's a beautiful day.
Friday, June 27, 2003
I'm not sure I'm much likin' this whole new and improved blogger thang...it's so...sparse. And gray. Very gray. Hn.
Listening to Hampsterdance reminds me of the summer before last...I took a pottery class then, and spent most of my time at the shore against my will. Cousin Theresa introduced the whole family to Hampsterdance, though, and I started outlining concepts and plots for The Revolution is Over, Seventh Sword, IQ, and other random things. I started reading webcomics...Eversummer Eve, Boy Meets Boy, Eat the Roses, Exploitation Now, 8-bit Theatre, D101...that was when webcomics, like scribbles and blogs and the like were the 'in' thing. Mega-super-ultra-uber trendy. Kinda like webcliques, but I think those were on their way out at that point...I started writing Boffo again, intending to finish it eventually.
That was the summer of 2001...I remember that summer as the Summer of Unblocked Creativity. I had fun that summer, though at the time I think I was sulking a lot. Had to spent far too much time with my cousins and aunts and uncles and I hate doing that. But I drew a lot, and read a lot, and had so very many ideas, things that leaked into the beginning of school and were wildly contagious. I am, after all, a communicable disease.
*sigh* There was a point to this, honest!
So, Hampsterdance. Audio crack. They do a remix of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" which I once teased Kev with quite mercilessly. There's a song called "Even Hamsters Fall in Love", and you can guess how completely silly that one is. They sing the Chicken Dance. *D'oi*
In my manic summer of random ideas, I came up with the vague idea of a woman named Lacinia Emyrial (I was having a lot of fun with my obscure word generator, too) who was quite frightening and somewhat psychotic and worked as a bouncer in a dance club called...The Hamster's Wheel. I was fifteen, bored, and listened to Hampsterdance on a loop. Stop looking at me like that.
Most people just call it The Wheel, and it's something of a raver club, but rather upscale and caters to a somewhat more mature crowd. Not very mature, mind you, because the waitresses and bartenders all wear fuzzy ears and have whiskers. Instead of pole dancers, there would be wheel dancers.
I can picture all of this in my head, and it's a very strange acid trip indeed. The other bar/club that I've created is the Aurifex, which is Latin for gold smith and seems somewhat normal on the outside, but is really just as crackheaded- less upscale, much shabbier, more of a bar-around-the-corner kind of place than a screaming-neon-money-trap.
I really shouldn't be making dance clubs central plot points in any of my stories until I've actually been to one. Eh, well.
Whatever. I still think it would be a kind of neat idea, to have a club that played Hampsterdance every night...but then again, I'm deranged and squeaky. Eh, well. What can you do?
"Round and round we go..."
Listening to Hampsterdance reminds me of the summer before last...I took a pottery class then, and spent most of my time at the shore against my will. Cousin Theresa introduced the whole family to Hampsterdance, though, and I started outlining concepts and plots for The Revolution is Over, Seventh Sword, IQ, and other random things. I started reading webcomics...Eversummer Eve, Boy Meets Boy, Eat the Roses, Exploitation Now, 8-bit Theatre, D101...that was when webcomics, like scribbles and blogs and the like were the 'in' thing. Mega-super-ultra-uber trendy. Kinda like webcliques, but I think those were on their way out at that point...I started writing Boffo again, intending to finish it eventually.
That was the summer of 2001...I remember that summer as the Summer of Unblocked Creativity. I had fun that summer, though at the time I think I was sulking a lot. Had to spent far too much time with my cousins and aunts and uncles and I hate doing that. But I drew a lot, and read a lot, and had so very many ideas, things that leaked into the beginning of school and were wildly contagious. I am, after all, a communicable disease.
*sigh* There was a point to this, honest!
So, Hampsterdance. Audio crack. They do a remix of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" which I once teased Kev with quite mercilessly. There's a song called "Even Hamsters Fall in Love", and you can guess how completely silly that one is. They sing the Chicken Dance. *D'oi*
In my manic summer of random ideas, I came up with the vague idea of a woman named Lacinia Emyrial (I was having a lot of fun with my obscure word generator, too) who was quite frightening and somewhat psychotic and worked as a bouncer in a dance club called...The Hamster's Wheel. I was fifteen, bored, and listened to Hampsterdance on a loop. Stop looking at me like that.
Most people just call it The Wheel, and it's something of a raver club, but rather upscale and caters to a somewhat more mature crowd. Not very mature, mind you, because the waitresses and bartenders all wear fuzzy ears and have whiskers. Instead of pole dancers, there would be wheel dancers.
I can picture all of this in my head, and it's a very strange acid trip indeed. The other bar/club that I've created is the Aurifex, which is Latin for gold smith and seems somewhat normal on the outside, but is really just as crackheaded- less upscale, much shabbier, more of a bar-around-the-corner kind of place than a screaming-neon-money-trap.
I really shouldn't be making dance clubs central plot points in any of my stories until I've actually been to one. Eh, well.
Whatever. I still think it would be a kind of neat idea, to have a club that played Hampsterdance every night...but then again, I'm deranged and squeaky. Eh, well. What can you do?
"Round and round we go..."
Thursday, June 26, 2003
So, went and saw The Hulk on Monday, went and saw Finding Nemo last night.
Nemo was better, but only because it was two thirds the length of Hulk and was much, much prettier. Hulk was like watching a comic book, which was amusing and nifty for the first half hour, but then they started to get a bit carried away with the sliding panels and double viewpoints.
And that helicopter scene? So. Totally. Unnecessary. They could have cut it down to five seconds, and we'd have gotten the point; instead it went on for two minutes and we all just sat and stared at the screen, wondering when the hell it was going to end.
I'd have liked it if it weren't so feckin' long.
Went with Bo and Sonya and Felix; we decided that Hulk is really a sea cucumber of doom, and his father is a starfish...no wonder the guy has issues. Fear the sea cucumber!
Also, the pants? They are Super Pants, to have been able to survive all that stretching. The movie was secretly a Dockers commercial in disguise; Nice Pants and all that jazz.
Twice we were yelled at to shut the fuck up. Twice. I've never been told to shut up in a movie before- but then, I've never had in depth discussions about sea cucumbers and anger management in a movie before.
It was silly, but very long. And from a critic's point of view, it was awful; there was no coherency of plot, no central villain or theme to hold the movie together. The last twenty minutes were tacked on just for the sake of one last fight scene, and were as unnecessary as the helicopter scene.
I did like the very end, though, in South America. That amused me. The rampant destruction of Redwood Forests and the Grand Canyon, on the other hand, did not. The French poodle amused me. The gamma rays did not. When you sit four ubergeeks in a row and make them watch a movie whose concept depends on the belief that gamma rays will do funky things to sea cucumbers, you are going to get some very loud protestations- mostly from Bo, who was outraged by the broken laws of physics and the basic tenets of chemistry.
D'oi. My biggest gripe was with the special effects- particularly the ones done with cheap photosho filters. I could've done better on Lulu- emboss, pointililze, invert. So very simple.
Bleh. Being incoherent. The parent wishes me to get off the computer and go watch a random subtitled movie with her. Every time she says something, it throws me off.
Anyway. Nemo. Cute. Pointless. Pretty. Also slightly too long, and Marlin was disgustingly annoying and rather unsympathetic. (Just like Harry Potter!) Liked Dory, though. And Gill. Gill rocked. I may do a sketch of Gill as a human, because he rocked that much. Also loved the turtles. "Dude, offspring. Offspring, Jellyman." *snicker* Groovy.
I'm of the opinion that Pixar is evil incarnate, but they still do very pretty things. I just wish they weren't killing off classical animation; Dreamworks can't compete with Disney, even though I think they do a better job with their animated features most of the time...
Or maybe I just wish I owned Road to El Dorado. That's always a possibility.
Meh. Being random. Can't wait to see League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Pirates of the Carribbean. Still waiting for a good movie this summer, you see. Haven't seen one yet, and it disappoints me.
Nemo was better, but only because it was two thirds the length of Hulk and was much, much prettier. Hulk was like watching a comic book, which was amusing and nifty for the first half hour, but then they started to get a bit carried away with the sliding panels and double viewpoints.
And that helicopter scene? So. Totally. Unnecessary. They could have cut it down to five seconds, and we'd have gotten the point; instead it went on for two minutes and we all just sat and stared at the screen, wondering when the hell it was going to end.
I'd have liked it if it weren't so feckin' long.
Went with Bo and Sonya and Felix; we decided that Hulk is really a sea cucumber of doom, and his father is a starfish...no wonder the guy has issues. Fear the sea cucumber!
Also, the pants? They are Super Pants, to have been able to survive all that stretching. The movie was secretly a Dockers commercial in disguise; Nice Pants and all that jazz.
Twice we were yelled at to shut the fuck up. Twice. I've never been told to shut up in a movie before- but then, I've never had in depth discussions about sea cucumbers and anger management in a movie before.
It was silly, but very long. And from a critic's point of view, it was awful; there was no coherency of plot, no central villain or theme to hold the movie together. The last twenty minutes were tacked on just for the sake of one last fight scene, and were as unnecessary as the helicopter scene.
I did like the very end, though, in South America. That amused me. The rampant destruction of Redwood Forests and the Grand Canyon, on the other hand, did not. The French poodle amused me. The gamma rays did not. When you sit four ubergeeks in a row and make them watch a movie whose concept depends on the belief that gamma rays will do funky things to sea cucumbers, you are going to get some very loud protestations- mostly from Bo, who was outraged by the broken laws of physics and the basic tenets of chemistry.
D'oi. My biggest gripe was with the special effects- particularly the ones done with cheap photosho filters. I could've done better on Lulu- emboss, pointililze, invert. So very simple.
Bleh. Being incoherent. The parent wishes me to get off the computer and go watch a random subtitled movie with her. Every time she says something, it throws me off.
Anyway. Nemo. Cute. Pointless. Pretty. Also slightly too long, and Marlin was disgustingly annoying and rather unsympathetic. (Just like Harry Potter!) Liked Dory, though. And Gill. Gill rocked. I may do a sketch of Gill as a human, because he rocked that much. Also loved the turtles. "Dude, offspring. Offspring, Jellyman." *snicker* Groovy.
I'm of the opinion that Pixar is evil incarnate, but they still do very pretty things. I just wish they weren't killing off classical animation; Dreamworks can't compete with Disney, even though I think they do a better job with their animated features most of the time...
Or maybe I just wish I owned Road to El Dorado. That's always a possibility.
Meh. Being random. Can't wait to see League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Pirates of the Carribbean. Still waiting for a good movie this summer, you see. Haven't seen one yet, and it disappoints me.
Monday, June 23, 2003
Feelin' antsy for a new layout...must work on this.
Started coloring Setzer pic. Stupid albino and his stupid colorlessness. Stupid. Have to figure out how to do all sorts of niggly little details, and I hate niggly little details, because they're little. And niggly.
Don't even ask what that means. I haven't got a clue. All I know is that I don't wanna paint the trim on his stupid coat or the stupid card in his hand. Stupider.
Am finally pleased with how the shading of his face came out, though. Black on half transparency so I can get a nice, even shade of gray everywhere...Open Canvas is wonderful. Wish I could find the link I downloaded it from, but I'm sure you can just type it into a search engine and find it like that. It's free. And primitive. And lovely and paint-like. Huzzah.
Wearing little hoop earrings right now...the temptation to string beads from 'em is very strong, but if I take 'em off, me ears'll hurt like nobody's business. So they can stay right where they are for now, and wait until I'm better prepared for a random craft project.
Started coloring Setzer pic. Stupid albino and his stupid colorlessness. Stupid. Have to figure out how to do all sorts of niggly little details, and I hate niggly little details, because they're little. And niggly.
Don't even ask what that means. I haven't got a clue. All I know is that I don't wanna paint the trim on his stupid coat or the stupid card in his hand. Stupider.
Am finally pleased with how the shading of his face came out, though. Black on half transparency so I can get a nice, even shade of gray everywhere...Open Canvas is wonderful. Wish I could find the link I downloaded it from, but I'm sure you can just type it into a search engine and find it like that. It's free. And primitive. And lovely and paint-like. Huzzah.
Wearing little hoop earrings right now...the temptation to string beads from 'em is very strong, but if I take 'em off, me ears'll hurt like nobody's business. So they can stay right where they are for now, and wait until I'm better prepared for a random craft project.
Finished Lirael this morning (read: 3 AM). Must find bookstore and buy Abhorsen before head falls off. 0_0
Mmm, Garth Nix, I'm sure that's a pen name but I'll forgive you because damn that was a good book. A filler book, but a good filler book. Sabriel was good, this one was good, Abhorsen will be better. I can feel it.
Prince Sam was just irritating. I'm suffering from an overload of irritating teenage males in my books lately; I'm almost afraid to pick up Only Begotten Daughter again for fear of having to face yet another shallow, angsty, irritating character. Stupid boys. *sigh* Lirael herself, on the other hand, was delightful. So's the Disreputable Bitch (if you're feeling technical). Mogget makes a return, and Mogget is always cool...I just wish Sabriel and Touchstone could have had bigger parts, but hey, s'okay.
The plot twist about Lirael's father was a bit obvious- not overly so, but I'm rather slow when it comes to these things. I always have to read ahead and spoil things for myself, 'cause otherwise I'd never figure anything out. *sigh* I r slo. Ah, well. Overall, I'm delighted with the whole book, even if there is quite a bit of angst. Garth Nix subscribes to the quit-feeling-sorry-for-yourself-you-silly-brat method of dealing with his characters, usually in the form of a familiar...so whenever someone started angsting too much, Mogget or Dog would bite them. I wholeheartedly approve. ;P
Must read next book, and soon...
...Right, why do I have Omaha on my playlist? It's only going to make me cry. Stupid Counting Crows and their stupid meaningful lyrics. *sulks*
It is a pretty song, though...
Mmm, Garth Nix, I'm sure that's a pen name but I'll forgive you because damn that was a good book. A filler book, but a good filler book. Sabriel was good, this one was good, Abhorsen will be better. I can feel it.
Prince Sam was just irritating. I'm suffering from an overload of irritating teenage males in my books lately; I'm almost afraid to pick up Only Begotten Daughter again for fear of having to face yet another shallow, angsty, irritating character. Stupid boys. *sigh* Lirael herself, on the other hand, was delightful. So's the Disreputable Bitch (if you're feeling technical). Mogget makes a return, and Mogget is always cool...I just wish Sabriel and Touchstone could have had bigger parts, but hey, s'okay.
The plot twist about Lirael's father was a bit obvious- not overly so, but I'm rather slow when it comes to these things. I always have to read ahead and spoil things for myself, 'cause otherwise I'd never figure anything out. *sigh* I r slo. Ah, well. Overall, I'm delighted with the whole book, even if there is quite a bit of angst. Garth Nix subscribes to the quit-feeling-sorry-for-yourself-you-silly-brat method of dealing with his characters, usually in the form of a familiar...so whenever someone started angsting too much, Mogget or Dog would bite them. I wholeheartedly approve. ;P
Must read next book, and soon...
...Right, why do I have Omaha on my playlist? It's only going to make me cry. Stupid Counting Crows and their stupid meaningful lyrics. *sulks*
It is a pretty song, though...
Sunday, June 22, 2003
Read Fake vol 1 this morning instead of Harry Potter; saved Potter for this afternoon. Fake didn't require the attention span or the dedication to read...and I think I may have enjoyed it more. Because it's not like they can ****SPOILERSPOILER**** in the first book of something, unlike in some series I could name...*is very bitter and will be pouting and harping on about this for the rest of the summer*
So, Fake. Yes, yes, I'm a very silly and wacked little girl- but I have always been something of a closet fan of police dramas (see the Law & Order addiction) and that's essentially what Fake is...just toss in pretty art, occasional bad Engrish, and the fact that the primary love interest of the main character happens to be his partner, who happens to be a very confused and vaguely ditzy blond man...and there you have it.
Aw, shaddup. It's pretty. Like, really pretty. And Dee is snarky and badass while Ryo is adorable and spastic, and even if they are somewhat stereotyped and very random, they're cute. And it's all very pretty. *droooool* Preeeeety.
I like the characters. I like the fact that there is an actual plot in each of the episodes, and it doesn't revolve around Dee trying to get into Ryo's pants- that happens because of the plot, but isn't the end-all be-all to the whole thing. I like that there are allusions to Dee's dark and angsty past while he remains a remarkably cheerful, snarky, and amusing character. And Ryo is adorable without being cloying or overly feminine. I like that they get into an argument over the definition of bi, and that they bicker like a married couple.
Blah. I like it. It amuses me in my squeaky fangirl little way. I should've waited until after finishing HP to read it, though- it might have helped to diffuse the awful feeling of hoplessness and sorrow that hung around my head after that particular experience.
Sweet Goddess above and below, Ms Rowling, what were you thinking?
*scurries off to look at pretty pictures again*
So, Fake. Yes, yes, I'm a very silly and wacked little girl- but I have always been something of a closet fan of police dramas (see the Law & Order addiction) and that's essentially what Fake is...just toss in pretty art, occasional bad Engrish, and the fact that the primary love interest of the main character happens to be his partner, who happens to be a very confused and vaguely ditzy blond man...and there you have it.
Aw, shaddup. It's pretty. Like, really pretty. And Dee is snarky and badass while Ryo is adorable and spastic, and even if they are somewhat stereotyped and very random, they're cute. And it's all very pretty. *droooool* Preeeeety.
I like the characters. I like the fact that there is an actual plot in each of the episodes, and it doesn't revolve around Dee trying to get into Ryo's pants- that happens because of the plot, but isn't the end-all be-all to the whole thing. I like that there are allusions to Dee's dark and angsty past while he remains a remarkably cheerful, snarky, and amusing character. And Ryo is adorable without being cloying or overly feminine. I like that they get into an argument over the definition of bi, and that they bicker like a married couple.
Blah. I like it. It amuses me in my squeaky fangirl little way. I should've waited until after finishing HP to read it, though- it might have helped to diffuse the awful feeling of hoplessness and sorrow that hung around my head after that particular experience.
Sweet Goddess above and below, Ms Rowling, what were you thinking?
*scurries off to look at pretty pictures again*
Book Review!
Harry Potter? Oh, dear.
It's a very easy read, until about the 700th page, at which point you realize that the last four hours of your life were completely wasted, because absolutely nothing happens. The first umpteen pages were just a setup for the last hundred of battle scene.
Now, it was a very cool battle scene, but totally not worth the pages and pages of filler it took to get there.
Also, the Three and the other students are all very realistic teenagers. That is to say, they're infuriating and nonsensical and altogether annoying and unsympathetic. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have only managed to reinforce my dislike of teenagers further. Cho, too. She disappointed me a great deal. The problem is, it's understandable and realistic, and that annoys me. I don't want to sympathize when she's being irritating.
Hermione kicked ass, though. And Ginny has a personality.
I still love Snape, but I'm vaguely annoyed with him. (Read: severely pissed off.) Remus needed more pagetime. Tonks kicked amazing amounts of ass, also needed more pagetime. Malfoy and Co are beyond redemption. *gleeful* Two dimensional evil! I am vindicated! Sirius...I'll always love Sirius. Dumbledore needed to be smacked. Repeatedly. With a stick.
Luna Lovegood was wonderful, even if she was just a plot device. Loved her, she was great. McGonigal was great. Umbridge was fucking psycho. *shiver* Nucking Futs, she was.
Aside from the hundreds of pages of filler angst and mayhem and the *******SPOILERSPOILERSPOILER****** fucking plothole from hell and the death of *****SPOILER******, I enjoyed it. But those are two very big spoilers that will remain censored until more people read the book.
So many people are gonna be so pissed at Rowling for this one, though. Oh, so pissed.
The plot was disappointing, the characters were irritating and largely unsympathetic, the writing is still sub-par (if I see another weak adverb, I'll rend something), and most of it was pointless, but it was reasonably enjoyable, if only because it's Harry Potter, the marketing miracle. *sigh* At least the cover is pretty. It honestly wasn't that great of a book, but it's the fifth in the series so I've grown attached to the characters (even if Harry did become a little bitch during parts of it...) and don't really want to stop reading about them.
But oh, you screaming fangirls, you...all those fics just went AU on you...*snicker* I'm predicting mayhem, oh the mayhem...*glee*
Harry Potter? Oh, dear.
It's a very easy read, until about the 700th page, at which point you realize that the last four hours of your life were completely wasted, because absolutely nothing happens. The first umpteen pages were just a setup for the last hundred of battle scene.
Now, it was a very cool battle scene, but totally not worth the pages and pages of filler it took to get there.
Also, the Three and the other students are all very realistic teenagers. That is to say, they're infuriating and nonsensical and altogether annoying and unsympathetic. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have only managed to reinforce my dislike of teenagers further. Cho, too. She disappointed me a great deal. The problem is, it's understandable and realistic, and that annoys me. I don't want to sympathize when she's being irritating.
Hermione kicked ass, though. And Ginny has a personality.
I still love Snape, but I'm vaguely annoyed with him. (Read: severely pissed off.) Remus needed more pagetime. Tonks kicked amazing amounts of ass, also needed more pagetime. Malfoy and Co are beyond redemption. *gleeful* Two dimensional evil! I am vindicated! Sirius...I'll always love Sirius. Dumbledore needed to be smacked. Repeatedly. With a stick.
Luna Lovegood was wonderful, even if she was just a plot device. Loved her, she was great. McGonigal was great. Umbridge was fucking psycho. *shiver* Nucking Futs, she was.
Aside from the hundreds of pages of filler angst and mayhem and the *******SPOILERSPOILERSPOILER****** fucking plothole from hell and the death of *****SPOILER******, I enjoyed it. But those are two very big spoilers that will remain censored until more people read the book.
So many people are gonna be so pissed at Rowling for this one, though. Oh, so pissed.
The plot was disappointing, the characters were irritating and largely unsympathetic, the writing is still sub-par (if I see another weak adverb, I'll rend something), and most of it was pointless, but it was reasonably enjoyable, if only because it's Harry Potter, the marketing miracle. *sigh* At least the cover is pretty. It honestly wasn't that great of a book, but it's the fifth in the series so I've grown attached to the characters (even if Harry did become a little bitch during parts of it...) and don't really want to stop reading about them.
But oh, you screaming fangirls, you...all those fics just went AU on you...*snicker* I'm predicting mayhem, oh the mayhem...*glee*
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Beneath the hiss of the rain and rumble of thunder, my breathing was harsh and loud and bubbling. Not good. Must have punctured a lung. I was three stab wounds, a blow to the head, and an explosion from where we started, and now I was on my back in the mud with a knife at my throat. Great. Just great. And now he was going to make some villainous comment or other, to stay in character. The bastard had to start getting wordy and trite now, of course. He couldn't just kill me and be done with it, no, that'd be to easy.
Good thing for me he had such a flair for the dramatic, otherwise my plan would never have worked.
"In the end, the only people who really matter in your life are your mother," that silky smooth voice mocked, "and your murderer."
I smiled. "I don't have a mother, bitch." His eyes widened. My arm flew up, and I could feel that knife dig into my throat deep enough to draw blood. Then he tipped backwards with a sick sort of gurgle, clutching at his left eye. It had sprouted a shard of glass when he wasn't looking.
I kicked the bastard off my legs and got to my feet without falling over. I'd been carrying that shard of glass in my ribs since our little duel began and it hurt like a bitch to have it out- but it was worth it to finally see him dead.
"I don't have a mother," I repeated to his corpse. "So I guess that means nobody matters to me."
I didn't need to tell him I was the only one who'd ever really mattered to him; he wouldn't hear me, and besides, we both already knew it. We'd both known it for a very long time.
Footsteps sounded, high and sharp, behind me. I knew who it was before I turned around and saw her standing where the road ended in her high heels and short skirt. She might have looked sad. I didn't really give a damn.
"You," I pointed a very unsteady finger at her, "have a lot of explaining to do." She might have been smiling when I fell over from blood loss. I didn't really give a damn about that, either.
--------------------------
Blaming this entirely on The Very Model of a Man. Stupid Cain and his stupid rationalization. Ugh. Brotherly love, indeed. Need to finish that book but it leaves me feeling deeply disturbed every time I turn the page.
No idea who they are, what they did, why they tried to kill each other...I know the narrator's an orphan, originally he was supposed to say a little more, keep the drama going, that sort of thing, but then he switched into first person and it all seemed kinda moot. Maybe that's his name.
Maybe it isn't. Moot.
Good thing for me he had such a flair for the dramatic, otherwise my plan would never have worked.
"In the end, the only people who really matter in your life are your mother," that silky smooth voice mocked, "and your murderer."
I smiled. "I don't have a mother, bitch." His eyes widened. My arm flew up, and I could feel that knife dig into my throat deep enough to draw blood. Then he tipped backwards with a sick sort of gurgle, clutching at his left eye. It had sprouted a shard of glass when he wasn't looking.
I kicked the bastard off my legs and got to my feet without falling over. I'd been carrying that shard of glass in my ribs since our little duel began and it hurt like a bitch to have it out- but it was worth it to finally see him dead.
"I don't have a mother," I repeated to his corpse. "So I guess that means nobody matters to me."
I didn't need to tell him I was the only one who'd ever really mattered to him; he wouldn't hear me, and besides, we both already knew it. We'd both known it for a very long time.
Footsteps sounded, high and sharp, behind me. I knew who it was before I turned around and saw her standing where the road ended in her high heels and short skirt. She might have looked sad. I didn't really give a damn.
"You," I pointed a very unsteady finger at her, "have a lot of explaining to do." She might have been smiling when I fell over from blood loss. I didn't really give a damn about that, either.
--------------------------
Blaming this entirely on The Very Model of a Man. Stupid Cain and his stupid rationalization. Ugh. Brotherly love, indeed. Need to finish that book but it leaves me feeling deeply disturbed every time I turn the page.
No idea who they are, what they did, why they tried to kill each other...I know the narrator's an orphan, originally he was supposed to say a little more, keep the drama going, that sort of thing, but then he switched into first person and it all seemed kinda moot. Maybe that's his name.
Maybe it isn't. Moot.
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
On my third can of vanilla coke in the past half hour. What, me find solace in caffeine? Never.
As an aside, however, roasted potatoes and vanilla coke to not a happy combination make.
Scandinavia has invaded our house; Marita's mother and aunt are here as well. Bjarta isn't here yet, we're not sure if he will be. Mark was supposed to come, but he reneged. I'd call him a bastard, but he's the middle brother. *shrug* The sprogs, however, are adorable- but I'll claim to have been under the influence of too much caffeine if you call me out on saying so.
Downloading as much Luna Sea as I can get my hands on, since Lulu is being remarkably cooperative. I've got three new ones now, and I'm looking for a fourth. Yummy incomprehensible Jrock music. Mmm. Have to go find translations eventually, I suppose.
My favorite song is still Aurora, the first Luna Sea mp3 I downloaded. Beautiful lyrics, great melody- I can usually even remember what a few of them mean. I can sing most of 'em, though, and that pleases me.
Chikadzukitai, chikadzukenai...
Mmm, seven total Luna Sea mp3s. Not half bad.
By the by, the lemon bars never got made. Two chocolate pies, though. Oh, the sugar. Oh, the butter. Oh, my arteries.
That little snippet below could double as an interaction between any two random as-of-yet unnamed characters, or an interaction between my consciousness and my moody, literary side. Stupid pretentious literary-ness. *snort* I can't stand it when I get like that, hence why my sensible half (quarter? eighth? teaspoon?) has to smack me occasionally.
As an aside, however, roasted potatoes and vanilla coke to not a happy combination make.
Scandinavia has invaded our house; Marita's mother and aunt are here as well. Bjarta isn't here yet, we're not sure if he will be. Mark was supposed to come, but he reneged. I'd call him a bastard, but he's the middle brother. *shrug* The sprogs, however, are adorable- but I'll claim to have been under the influence of too much caffeine if you call me out on saying so.
Downloading as much Luna Sea as I can get my hands on, since Lulu is being remarkably cooperative. I've got three new ones now, and I'm looking for a fourth. Yummy incomprehensible Jrock music. Mmm. Have to go find translations eventually, I suppose.
My favorite song is still Aurora, the first Luna Sea mp3 I downloaded. Beautiful lyrics, great melody- I can usually even remember what a few of them mean. I can sing most of 'em, though, and that pleases me.
Chikadzukitai, chikadzukenai...
Mmm, seven total Luna Sea mp3s. Not half bad.
By the by, the lemon bars never got made. Two chocolate pies, though. Oh, the sugar. Oh, the butter. Oh, my arteries.
That little snippet below could double as an interaction between any two random as-of-yet unnamed characters, or an interaction between my consciousness and my moody, literary side. Stupid pretentious literary-ness. *snort* I can't stand it when I get like that, hence why my sensible half (quarter? eighth? teaspoon?) has to smack me occasionally.
"We cannot, as human beings, simply accept happiness. It goes against the very nature of our souls, for what is happiness? We do not know, or understand, or accept happiness until we have something to compare it to. There can be no happiness without there first being overwhelming sorrow."
"Put down the shot glass and shut the hell up, or I'm leavin'. I hate philosophical drunks."
"Put down the shot glass and shut the hell up, or I'm leavin'. I hate philosophical drunks."
Monday, June 16, 2003
When I figure out why exactly I am downloading In da godda da vida, I'll let you know.
I'm blaming it all on Lynyrd Skynyrd having been on tv last night. Wow, that was sad. Good music, though, even with the random confederate flags.
I've decided to make Queen my new obsessaband, twenty years too late. Alas. Why do all the good ones have to die?
Attempting to color the Setzer pic now...but he's so monochromatic! Arrrg!
I'm blaming it all on Lynyrd Skynyrd having been on tv last night. Wow, that was sad. Good music, though, even with the random confederate flags.
I've decided to make Queen my new obsessaband, twenty years too late. Alas. Why do all the good ones have to die?
Attempting to color the Setzer pic now...but he's so monochromatic! Arrrg!
Friday, June 13, 2003
And who are you trying to save?
Go, drown thy sorrows and thy self
In a casket of too-sweet wine.
That your ghost might walk
to torment the dreams of your brothers
Whose eyes have been plucked out
By carrion siblings
Who can you save, unseeing, unbreathing?
Who can you save, if you yourself are damned?
...Thank you, Duke of Gloucester. I have to go back to school soon.
Go, drown thy sorrows and thy self
In a casket of too-sweet wine.
That your ghost might walk
to torment the dreams of your brothers
Whose eyes have been plucked out
By carrion siblings
Who can you save, unseeing, unbreathing?
Who can you save, if you yourself are damned?
...Thank you, Duke of Gloucester. I have to go back to school soon.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Open canvans feels like cheating, it really does. *splees* such a lovely, lovely way to color things, such a lovely, lovely way to sketch things...photoshop, you suck. Give me free non-english speaking primitive programs any day over your silly special brushes and useless filters!
Mmm, swooshy.
My right shoe is covered in writing. "My shoe is the greatest shoe there ever was." It's actually rather grungy, but that's okay. Buncha people signed it, too. Forced me to contort into all sorts of odd positions, most of them not particularly kind to my knee. Still. My shoe has shoe signatures on it. That makes me happy. :)
How bizarre.
It's very difficult to find a shading model to use for what I want to do...I may just stick a mirror next to my computer and shine a flashlight at my face; anybody know an easy way to figure out how to do an upward facing light source? I can't quite get the hang of it...so instead of the serious Setzer pic I started, I have these. First one's a random swooshy thing, the other's a sketch of Tana the half-vampire demoness albino. Don't poke her with a stick; she bites. Doesn't like men much, tends to be rather snarky and vaguely Amazon-like. Kinda scary. She amuses me, though, and is somewhat fun to draw.
Mmm, lightning. Maybe I'll study for calculus soon.
Mmm, swooshy.
My right shoe is covered in writing. "My shoe is the greatest shoe there ever was." It's actually rather grungy, but that's okay. Buncha people signed it, too. Forced me to contort into all sorts of odd positions, most of them not particularly kind to my knee. Still. My shoe has shoe signatures on it. That makes me happy. :)
How bizarre.
It's very difficult to find a shading model to use for what I want to do...I may just stick a mirror next to my computer and shine a flashlight at my face; anybody know an easy way to figure out how to do an upward facing light source? I can't quite get the hang of it...so instead of the serious Setzer pic I started, I have these. First one's a random swooshy thing, the other's a sketch of Tana the half-vampire demoness albino. Don't poke her with a stick; she bites. Doesn't like men much, tends to be rather snarky and vaguely Amazon-like. Kinda scary. She amuses me, though, and is somewhat fun to draw.
Mmm, lightning. Maybe I'll study for calculus soon.
Saw Equilibrium today, in study hall, on Moham(one m)ed's laptop.
Oh, wow. Oh, my. Oh, dear gods.
What a delicious, sexy, violent movie. It's 1984 meets The Matrix, only three times better and not as long. And it stars not only Christian Bale (why did they ever make him a blond? *drool*), but Sean Bean, Emily Watson, and some other random but quite nifty guy as well. Sean Bean! Christian Bale! *drools*
And oh, god, do the two of them do evil. Neither of them are really evil, but they do evil things and they look damn good while doing them. Oi.
The premise is thus: after WWIII, the remaining survivors of the human race are drugged up with this stuff called Prozium, which inhibits all emotion. This leads one to think that there is a plot hole, but there really isn't: everything is explained in the end. I love it when they explain everything so that stuff makes sense. It's so nice when things make sense. Anyway. Your average unfeeling citizen is subjected to motivational speeches from Father and Father's Voice (who isn't gay, just French, and named Dupont) at all hours of the day from giant hi-tech flatscreen tvs. Kinda nifty, kinda creepy. Father's Voice actually gets pretty emotional during these speeches, extolling the virtues of Prozium and how murder and dissent and war are abolished because those pesky human emotions have all been abolished. Very creepy.
Of course, there are people who don't take their daily dose of Prozium, and they're called Sense Offenders and most of them are members of the Resistance. It's the job of the Grammaton Clerics to track down sense offenders and everything that might lead a person to feel something- art, music, colorful things, shiny things. The opening scene (after Christian Bale kicks ass and takes names in a nifty gunfight) is of two Clerics burning the Mona Lisa. *shiver* Christian Bale and Sean Bean are both top notch, high ranking Grammaton Clerics- they were lots of black, get utterly spiff fight scenes, and call each other "Cleric", which just makes me shiver for a whole 'nother reason. Sean Bean gets caught feeling emotions, and Christian Bale shoots him. *sadness* Then Christian Bale forgets to take his dose of Prozium and starts to feel too, and it all goes downhill from there. (There's an incredibly pretty scene involving him tearing open his window to see a rainbow for the first time in his life that would make such an awesome desktop wallpaper...*goes off to look for screenshots*) There's a happy ending, though, even if everybody (almost) dies. There are creepy creepy children, too. Really creepy. Like, miniature Hitler kind of creepy, straight out of 1984. There's even an O'Brian in the movie, which I thought was a bit overdone, but eh, whatever.
Anyway. The Clerics are all trained in the art of the Gun Katas, or, as Oliver called it, Gun Foo. They also know how to use katanas, which was kind of random but also incredibly nifty. All the violence is graphic like the arena scenes from Gladiator (we were watching that in Latin) so there's much blood flying about and many limbs going off in random and uncomfortable directions, and the second to last 'fight' scene (in quotes because the other guy didn't get in a single hit, and Christian Bale only hit him three times total) involves some very very disgusting special effects that were entirely unnecessary but do lead you to wonder what exactly they make those katanas out of to keep them so very, very sharp.
I dunno, there's something about seeing a guy surrounded by men in body armor weilding machine guns pistolwhip them all to death without getting touched himself that's really quite impressive. Y'know the gun scene in The Matrix? So Equilibrium borrows a little bit- but the equivalent scene in this movie was five times better because a) there was no Carrie Ann Moss, b) there were no stupid non reflective sunglasses c) Christian Bale can do menacing and pyschotic so much better than Keanu Reeves (he can do just about everything so much better than Keanu Reeves can, actually...) and d) that niftyness with the clips was just cool.
Yes, yes, I still despise guns. But I still love a good, tastefully done, well executed fight scene. (The katana fight was a bit gratuitous...especially the end. He only had to hit the guy twice, really...) And there were a lot of them in this movie, because even if the violence was rather gratuitous and explicit, it wasn't sickeningly so (*coughGladiatorcough*). And the idea of Gun Foo is really quite amusing, and seeing Christian Bale go psychotic is really, really fun to watch.
They should've had him play Neo in The Matrix, they really should have. Because he can act, you know. Unlike some other male leads I could name. But he sings, he dances, he slays dragons, overthrows totalitarian societies, goes on murderous rampages, and does a pretty damn good Shakespeare, too. Really, what hasn't the man done?
Not that I'm an obsessive fangirl or anything. *coughs* Mmm, pretty...
Oh, wow. Oh, my. Oh, dear gods.
What a delicious, sexy, violent movie. It's 1984 meets The Matrix, only three times better and not as long. And it stars not only Christian Bale (why did they ever make him a blond? *drool*), but Sean Bean, Emily Watson, and some other random but quite nifty guy as well. Sean Bean! Christian Bale! *drools*
And oh, god, do the two of them do evil. Neither of them are really evil, but they do evil things and they look damn good while doing them. Oi.
The premise is thus: after WWIII, the remaining survivors of the human race are drugged up with this stuff called Prozium, which inhibits all emotion. This leads one to think that there is a plot hole, but there really isn't: everything is explained in the end. I love it when they explain everything so that stuff makes sense. It's so nice when things make sense. Anyway. Your average unfeeling citizen is subjected to motivational speeches from Father and Father's Voice (who isn't gay, just French, and named Dupont) at all hours of the day from giant hi-tech flatscreen tvs. Kinda nifty, kinda creepy. Father's Voice actually gets pretty emotional during these speeches, extolling the virtues of Prozium and how murder and dissent and war are abolished because those pesky human emotions have all been abolished. Very creepy.
Of course, there are people who don't take their daily dose of Prozium, and they're called Sense Offenders and most of them are members of the Resistance. It's the job of the Grammaton Clerics to track down sense offenders and everything that might lead a person to feel something- art, music, colorful things, shiny things. The opening scene (after Christian Bale kicks ass and takes names in a nifty gunfight) is of two Clerics burning the Mona Lisa. *shiver* Christian Bale and Sean Bean are both top notch, high ranking Grammaton Clerics- they were lots of black, get utterly spiff fight scenes, and call each other "Cleric", which just makes me shiver for a whole 'nother reason. Sean Bean gets caught feeling emotions, and Christian Bale shoots him. *sadness* Then Christian Bale forgets to take his dose of Prozium and starts to feel too, and it all goes downhill from there. (There's an incredibly pretty scene involving him tearing open his window to see a rainbow for the first time in his life that would make such an awesome desktop wallpaper...*goes off to look for screenshots*) There's a happy ending, though, even if everybody (almost) dies. There are creepy creepy children, too. Really creepy. Like, miniature Hitler kind of creepy, straight out of 1984. There's even an O'Brian in the movie, which I thought was a bit overdone, but eh, whatever.
Anyway. The Clerics are all trained in the art of the Gun Katas, or, as Oliver called it, Gun Foo. They also know how to use katanas, which was kind of random but also incredibly nifty. All the violence is graphic like the arena scenes from Gladiator (we were watching that in Latin) so there's much blood flying about and many limbs going off in random and uncomfortable directions, and the second to last 'fight' scene (in quotes because the other guy didn't get in a single hit, and Christian Bale only hit him three times total) involves some very very disgusting special effects that were entirely unnecessary but do lead you to wonder what exactly they make those katanas out of to keep them so very, very sharp.
I dunno, there's something about seeing a guy surrounded by men in body armor weilding machine guns pistolwhip them all to death without getting touched himself that's really quite impressive. Y'know the gun scene in The Matrix? So Equilibrium borrows a little bit- but the equivalent scene in this movie was five times better because a) there was no Carrie Ann Moss, b) there were no stupid non reflective sunglasses c) Christian Bale can do menacing and pyschotic so much better than Keanu Reeves (he can do just about everything so much better than Keanu Reeves can, actually...) and d) that niftyness with the clips was just cool.
Yes, yes, I still despise guns. But I still love a good, tastefully done, well executed fight scene. (The katana fight was a bit gratuitous...especially the end. He only had to hit the guy twice, really...) And there were a lot of them in this movie, because even if the violence was rather gratuitous and explicit, it wasn't sickeningly so (*coughGladiatorcough*). And the idea of Gun Foo is really quite amusing, and seeing Christian Bale go psychotic is really, really fun to watch.
They should've had him play Neo in The Matrix, they really should have. Because he can act, you know. Unlike some other male leads I could name. But he sings, he dances, he slays dragons, overthrows totalitarian societies, goes on murderous rampages, and does a pretty damn good Shakespeare, too. Really, what hasn't the man done?
Not that I'm an obsessive fangirl or anything. *coughs* Mmm, pretty...
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Blue suede shoes... And many whiny martyrs, or
so
I was dangerous.There ought to
reveal itself rather not
you. blame but
I may
be
quiet, and I dun know You survive?
life that is an anti,
tactless, joyful, beauty.
And reappearing in the Guild that
Guns Sweet Child with a staff, and
more than you
have no one to
be was
like rabbits.
Because if Kristen can do it, so can I. From the February archives, all that I can get to at the moment.
Rabbit rabbit?
so
I was dangerous.There ought to
reveal itself rather not
you. blame but
I may
be
quiet, and I dun know You survive?
life that is an anti,
tactless, joyful, beauty.
And reappearing in the Guild that
Guns Sweet Child with a staff, and
more than you
have no one to
be was
like rabbits.
Because if Kristen can do it, so can I. From the February archives, all that I can get to at the moment.
Rabbit rabbit?
So Blogger ate a nice long dissertation and bit of dialogue that I wrote last night...Grrr. Stupid blogger. So instead...books!
Reading Only Begotten Daughter, but James Morrow. Completely and utterly Kristen's fault, and now I'm convinced that the devil is a vegetarian and Atlantic City really is evil. Julie Katz freaks me out just a bit, but what do you expect from the daughter of God and a celibate Jewish hermit who runs a lighthouse? Such a wonderful mindfuck experience. Mmm, twisted. Haven't gotten very far, but 'tis still much fun. It gets frightened looks from the people who read the synopsis on the back. This pleases me.
Not feeling overly creative, not in the literary sense. Have snippets running around in my head, mostly of Von acting very, very gay and frightening the hey out of Zyn. Silly little crackheads. (In this case, literally crackheads, or something similar- Von had a few substance abuse problems in the past that still occasionally bite him in the ass and generally lead him to call Ari'i at three in the morning and ask her to tuck him in again. Oi, they have so many issues. *huggles poor abused characters*)
Hum dee dum. Whee!
Reading Only Begotten Daughter, but James Morrow. Completely and utterly Kristen's fault, and now I'm convinced that the devil is a vegetarian and Atlantic City really is evil. Julie Katz freaks me out just a bit, but what do you expect from the daughter of God and a celibate Jewish hermit who runs a lighthouse? Such a wonderful mindfuck experience. Mmm, twisted. Haven't gotten very far, but 'tis still much fun. It gets frightened looks from the people who read the synopsis on the back. This pleases me.
Not feeling overly creative, not in the literary sense. Have snippets running around in my head, mostly of Von acting very, very gay and frightening the hey out of Zyn. Silly little crackheads. (In this case, literally crackheads, or something similar- Von had a few substance abuse problems in the past that still occasionally bite him in the ass and generally lead him to call Ari'i at three in the morning and ask her to tuck him in again. Oi, they have so many issues. *huggles poor abused characters*)
Hum dee dum. Whee!
Monday, June 09, 2003
Generated from this blog at:
Rob's Amazing Poetry Generator
'Cuz dude, man, it's so true.
Come up most people fell over;
keyboard*Hah. I
can not so the young
woman fell
from his
arms. over it exactly
make you fell out of strange, cryptic
code, it?
far there
are creating their personalities and
a Chevy 69?
not.normally
have been a con. *sigh* as she
knew goneJumped into the music in
my mind.
Rob's Amazing Poetry Generator
'Cuz dude, man, it's so true.
Come up most people fell over;
keyboard*Hah. I
can not so the young
woman fell
from his
arms. over it exactly
make you fell out of strange, cryptic
code, it?
far there
are creating their personalities and
a Chevy 69?
not.normally
have been a con. *sigh* as she
knew goneJumped into the music in
my mind.
zoot
interj. a retort used to warn someone to back away.
"You'd better zoot, boy."
boogie
n. a type of male.
"Yo, you're getting a boogie!"
woogie
v. to hate one's credit card.
"Mind you don't woogie, dude."
Hence, 'boogie-woogie zoot-zoot': A male who hates his credit card had better get the hey out of here, yo?
Slang Generator
And I thought the surrealist compliment generator was fun!
dei
n. a pair of sunglasses.
"Check out her dei - let's flirt with it!"
sounds good to me...
tyler
interj. an exclamation used in celebrating a victory.
"Tyler! I knew you couldn't flirt with my burger!"
jubal
interj. casual greeting.
"Jubal, man." "Jubal."
von
n. an old police car.
"Dawg! Gimme a von!"
floober
n. non-alcoholic drinks, but also a secret code-word for money.
"I'm gonna inject drugs into your floober, boy."
fork
adj. like a mobile phone.
"Someone dosed her drink and now she's fork."
so that's what I've been saying all this time...
interj. a retort used to warn someone to back away.
"You'd better zoot, boy."
boogie
n. a type of male.
"Yo, you're getting a boogie!"
woogie
v. to hate one's credit card.
"Mind you don't woogie, dude."
Hence, 'boogie-woogie zoot-zoot': A male who hates his credit card had better get the hey out of here, yo?
Slang Generator
And I thought the surrealist compliment generator was fun!
dei
n. a pair of sunglasses.
"Check out her dei - let's flirt with it!"
sounds good to me...
tyler
interj. an exclamation used in celebrating a victory.
"Tyler! I knew you couldn't flirt with my burger!"
jubal
interj. casual greeting.
"Jubal, man." "Jubal."
von
n. an old police car.
"Dawg! Gimme a von!"
floober
n. non-alcoholic drinks, but also a secret code-word for money.
"I'm gonna inject drugs into your floober, boy."
fork
adj. like a mobile phone.
"Someone dosed her drink and now she's fork."
so that's what I've been saying all this time...
Monday, June 02, 2003
"It's times like these I just like to sit awake, contemplating the concept of David Bowie."
"Oh, I don't like to use the term 'bisexual'. I find it far too...limiting."
"You know what this situation calls for? Excessive amounts of drama. Quick, someone slap me."
"You people? I am not 'you people'! I am...oh. Those people. Never mind, I guess I am."
"Well, isn't that just enough to make you wanna tear all your clothes off and skip in circles? Or maybe that's just me."
"Occasionally, I get the urge to do a good deed. Usually I put my head between someone's legs and wait til it passes."
...Whoever he is, I'm sure he has impeccable fashion sense. The nice thing about having completely random strangers piping up in my head is that they contemplate David Bowie for me so that I don't have to. I think he also contemplates Queen in a similar manner. I get the feeling he bursts into song a lot.
Maybe one of his many claims to fame is his ability to sing the opening verse to "Bohemian Rhapsody"- as a solo, in four part harmony with himself. He has a very versatile voice.
I'm sure he has very long nails, and paints them black, or an eye searing shade of orange, just to put people on edge.
There was a blatant Ragtime reference up there, and I apologize for it. He doesn't. He doesn't apologize for much of anything.
He probably has a name, but I don't know it yet. He might have a story, but I don't know that yet, either. *shrug* Maybe someday he'll tell me. I get the feeling he won't, though.
"Oh, I don't like to use the term 'bisexual'. I find it far too...limiting."
"You know what this situation calls for? Excessive amounts of drama. Quick, someone slap me."
"You people? I am not 'you people'! I am...oh. Those people. Never mind, I guess I am."
"Well, isn't that just enough to make you wanna tear all your clothes off and skip in circles? Or maybe that's just me."
"Occasionally, I get the urge to do a good deed. Usually I put my head between someone's legs and wait til it passes."
...Whoever he is, I'm sure he has impeccable fashion sense. The nice thing about having completely random strangers piping up in my head is that they contemplate David Bowie for me so that I don't have to. I think he also contemplates Queen in a similar manner. I get the feeling he bursts into song a lot.
Maybe one of his many claims to fame is his ability to sing the opening verse to "Bohemian Rhapsody"- as a solo, in four part harmony with himself. He has a very versatile voice.
I'm sure he has very long nails, and paints them black, or an eye searing shade of orange, just to put people on edge.
There was a blatant Ragtime reference up there, and I apologize for it. He doesn't. He doesn't apologize for much of anything.
He probably has a name, but I don't know it yet. He might have a story, but I don't know that yet, either. *shrug* Maybe someday he'll tell me. I get the feeling he won't, though.