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?

Yay for finally getting the hang of keenspace...there are now link and character pages up on GA, and I can work on finishing the next page. Yay and huzzah. Right now, however, I must read Emma, and contemplate what I'm going to wear to Rocky Horror tonight.

Thank god tomorrow is sunday.

*is happy*

This quite literally made me cry:

http://allrpg.com/image_archive/9.jpg

Square, oh Square, how could you do such a thing? Why? Why, gods damn thee, tell me why! Why can't people simply leave well enough alone, and let the fanfic and doujinshi finish the story that was begun six years ago? Why must they continue it now, after all the craze and hype has ended, now after the doors have been opened to countless heathens and empty hearted infidels?

Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all? Not even the Great Sephiroth's bangs? Must they, like all our hopes and dreams, be flattened beneath the horrendous wheels of 'progress'?

And once you've finished answering those questions for me, Square, I want to know when it's going to be dubbed/subbed in English, and when I can preorder a copy.

Heh. Keenspace wasn't being a bitch; I was just being stupid. So, link to the side. Link right here too, because it excites me.

Yes, I promise there will be a layout at some point in the near future. But I just figured out the whole 'ftp' thing, so I'm kinda excited. Hee.

"Where you raised by wolves?"
"Yes. I was."

The Quiznos commercial cracks me up beyond belief.

Right, kiddies. Pray for mountain day. Pray to whatever deity you do or do not believe in! We want mountain day!

Judy Collins is not conducive to writing Schwarz snippets. Not at all. Here I was, expecting to sit down and write out some bit of drabble between Schuldich and Crawford, when I start singing along with "Colorado" even though I can't quite hit all of those notes sometimes. It just doesn't work. Okay, so maybe Shu could pull off "Queen of the Night", but that's only because he's on crack.

So, instead, I give you page 2: Godless Avatar

Feckin' keenspace. *sigh*

D: "You fucking lied to me, Jude. I thought you were my friend!"
J: "Calm the fuck down, Darwin. I am your friend."
D: "Friends don't lie to each other."
J: "The hell they don't. Friends just don't get away with it as easily."
D: "I can't forgive you for this, you know that."
J: "You're over reacting, Dar. Would you have believed me if I'd told you right out what was going on? Honestly?"
D: "You still shouldn't have lied! They might still be alive if you'd told the truth!"
J: "Oh, shut up. Man, do you really think I'd have helped those bitches after all they put you through?"
D: "...You did not. Just. Insult. My. Mother."
J: "Go pluck out your eyes, Oedipus."
D: "That's it. You're going down."
J: "A duel? You want to duel with me? Fine, let's go."
D: "To the death!"
J: "Sporks, Dar? You want to duel with sporks?"
D: "Not just any sporks, Judecca. These are evil sporks."
*poik*
J: "OwfuckshitshitfuckinghellouchdamnityoubastardSHIT!"
D: "Do you yield?"
J: "Yes you little fuck, now quit channeling Rhonaya! You cheated!"
D: "And you lied."
J: "Look, if I say I'm sorry and I'll never do it again within reason, will you move on?"
D: "Sure. Duane, you can come out of the closet now."
J: "...you bastard."
J: *fwop*
Du: "I don't know who to be more pissed at now."
D: "What did I do?"
Du: "My boyfriend just disappeared in a cloud of smoke like some cheesy movie prop, but you just tried to kill him- I dunno, who should I be more annoyed at? I'm supposed to just smile and nod and say, 'oh, he's obviously a spawn of satan so therefore it's okay to off him with a cursed spork' because you think he's evil?"
D: "Uh..."
Du: "Nevermind, Dar. Just tell me where he went."
D: "Uh..."
Du: "I am so going to tell Miranda, and then you will die."
D: "Damn."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The facial expressions make it much more amusing in my head, 'cuz by this point, Dar is somewhat less than sane and he knows it but can't help it. Needless to say, this scene is a long way from being drawn. Have class now, will put up the next page this afternoon.

The nano journal lives! Sort of. We had to exhume it and hire a necromancer, but it seems to be up on its feet at the moment...

The layout here is getting to me, but it's such a pain in the ass to change...*sigh* I know, I know- I'm lazy and have been rather boring lately. I apologize. I can't say it'll get better, but...I'll think about it.

The latest panel of Nine Swords cracks me up for some strange and perverted reason. Look, ma, vampire porn. Am I sick and twisted for enjoying the comic? Probably. But if Riley weren't the personification of snarky badassedness, I wouldn't like it half as much. I'd only like it about a third, or perhaps three sevenths as much; it is very pretty, if you like gore.

I wish I could draw like that; I wouldn't use my skills for evil, or for porn, but I still wish I could draw like that. (Yes, I have been working on GA. No it hasn't been going particularly well. I still can't get Zazi's head right. But I have successfully drawn a pair of hands that don't look like mittens or the offspring of some sort of horribly stunted tentacle monster.)

Two weeks ago or so, I was on the bus to Northampton, and there was a girl wearing a Breaking Pangaea t-shirt. That's about the niftiest band name a band can have; the music isn't half bad, either. I love happy serendipitous things like that. They please me. Right now, however, I am looking for more video game music- Wild Arms, to be precise. Best music evah.

Beware the quantum duck...quark quark quark!

The words she does not speak
creep up out of the corners of her eyes
and slide to the floor with silent dusty trails
to crawl away unseen
and unheard
---
Said the duck above the doorway,
why not, why not?
What's the point in living
if you don't love what you've got?

To the duck said I
why, why?
What's the point in loving
when you've given all you've got?

To this the duck had no reply
save a smile and a wink.
At this I simply shook my head
And had another drink.

Cheers!

New title. Because the song still makes my brain want to crawl out of my ears and melt, dragging my spinal chord with it.

This is a good thing. No, really.

"I wanted to be a druid, but I didn't make the cut."

Story of my life, folks. Story of my life. *wink*

Y'know what I really miss? My Bebop soundtrack, particularly the song with the barry and the flute. I mean, that one was always just really, really impressive to me. How do you get them to stay in tune across all those octaves?

And, of course, Too Good, Too Bad. Love that song, especially blasting it on Kev's stereo while we drove down 28 (or is it 26 or 23? I can't even remember anymore...) with Steve and Allen in the car, on the way to a night of carousing and d&d.

I have met Elrond- I mean, James' clone, and I shall be playing d&d with her and Eleanor and several other people whom I have yet to meet, on Sunday. This excites me; I haven't played since New Years.

No, really, you can go back through the archives and find the horn of blasting sneeze reference.

I wish it were always New Years, though I've no idea where that particular thought came from.

Heh. Cat Blues. Yeah, baby, yeah.

I would just like to say that anyone who has ever written anything beyond a one sided Faye/Spike fanfic needs to be beaten severely with Ein. Possibly with Ed as well, or with Jet's arm just to make sure they get the point.

Bad fans, no biscuit.

For those of you who wish to skip the self indulgent prattle that follows, you may proceed on to Godless Avatar page 1. This was not the original purpose of this post, but I felt I had to do something to counteract the carp I did five minutes ago.

The problem of my cryptic handwriting is solved by the description box. Questions, comments, and thwaps upside the head can be left below. I utterly and completely suck at scenery of any sort, and I still don't like Painter for much of anything except maybe the watercolors, which I wouldn't actually color anything with. I'd just mess around and then return to photoshop, or as I have more and more lately, Open Canvas. OC is much, much nicer to work with, even if it isn't quite as versatile as photoshop.

Keep in mind that whatever ends up in deviantart is something of a rough draft; things like panel order and page composition may change at a later date. It isn't likely, but it's possible. I'm really just saying this to cover my ass over the fact that it sucks.

Now back to our regularly scheduled pointless babble.
---------------------------------------------------------------

...it seems as if the whole world is against me at this point.

Or rather, as if blogger seeks to send me into an epileptic fit or some sort of hypochondriac shock; all day I've had words running free and careless and demanding within the confines of my skull, and now, here, when I try to explain them away, the thrice bedamned program spits them back at me.

Should I feel stung by this rejection from a mindless program? Should I feel demeaned and affronted?

I think I'll settle for mild annoyance and hope it doesn't happen again.

The poetry threatens to overwhelm me; I've no idea what brought on this sudden diarrhea of the mind. Messy, uncomfortable, and inconvenient in every way possible, that's what this is. I spent the better part of an hour on a bench in the sun with a pen, and my fingers have the inkstains to prove it. In the writing I found nothing that I did not already know on various and sundry levels; I can no longer tell when I'm being profound and when I'm being banal and trite.

The words flow without reason, without purpose. There is no meaning to anything, and there never was; we simply are, and at the moment I am defined by the words because there is nothing more to me. I am what I write, I write what I am. If that is meaningless, so be it. I can live with that, I can be joyful over that. I can be.

Fiat. I spent the better part of an hour discussing the concept of Fiat with myself. Not the little Italian car (I will not succumb to the urge to free thought here; there will be no associations, or I will lose what little self I have left) but the word itself: Let there be. Fiat lux, fiat nox, fiat nos. Fiat. And god spoke, and there was, and it shall be.

I do not believe in the deist concept of the ineffably apathetic watchmaker. God is a gardener, and we flourish within the bounds of its garden.

I don't mean to sound overly...religious. That's a dangerous word, one that I have yet to define within the neat boundaries of classroom and the strained realms of my heart and mind. I don't mean to come across as a starry eyed new age mystic, either. They're only words. They give things life, they make things real, but in the end they are only words.

Their power lies in their ability to stir belief; and lo, it leads us to the shaking of our beliefs until we can no longer believe what was once believable; instead, we must believe the unbelievable and content ourselves with more complex joys.

Words, words, words. Shakespeare had it right, maybe. Or maybe he had it written right and was not actually right himself within the rites he enacted and maybe I'm not writing about anything at all.

Maybe I never have and maybe I never will and maybe 'maybe' is the most powerful word of all, that ambiguous dual syllable of a word.

We drown ourselves in maybes and forget to breath what is.
-------------------------------------

I have a folder in my email account where I save emails from all the people I thought I might have bee in love with. It is titled, uncreatively enough, 'amo'. I was clearing out my inbox the other day and found emails from someone I might have loved, did love- someone whom I will never see nor hear from again. I didn't touch them; they belonged in the other folder, out of sight and out of mind, but clicking that little box would've brought me too close to temptation. Rereading them would destroy me, deleting them would do even worse.

But as long as I leave them there, they will remind me, and that is perhaps no less deadly. These are things I will have to face, someday. I'm sure I'll face them in the end, by averting my eyes.
--------------------------------------

Words, just words, and I've no idea where they've come from nor where they wish to go. All I can do is write and hope to exhaust my fingers and my mind. A momentary pause brings it all to a screeching halt, but does not alleviate the pressure upon my soul.

I still can't tell the difference between a profundity of profound statements, or a proliferation of trash. All I know is my grammar and vocabulary become increasingly expanded and archaic. I fear that in the end I will be so obsolete as to not even understand myself.

Of course, that eventuality came to pass long ago, but it's a fragile falacy that I like to cling to despite the truth.
------------------------

If I were a cat, my ears would be flat against my skull right now.

Stupid blogger.

Godless Avatar p1

Cover page. More to follow as I get around to it. The text tool in photoshop is giving me issues, and I don't think many of you can read my handwriting, so I have to fix that before I can actually post the two or three pages I have finished. The art's preeeetty damn crappy. The cover page is not indicative of the quality of the rest of the thing.

I do like the flat way Dar is colored. Diana is just very...blue. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I suppose. In addition to the text tool giving me issues, the layer options were being bitchy as well; thankfully the feather looks okay. You can all tell it's a feather, right? I would've drawn the evil!Venus statue, but it really does look silly, and the feather looks kinda cool. Anyway.

Yup. There ya go. Can't believe I'm actually doing this- but I guess it doesn't count until I start posting pages...soon, lovelies, soon.

I can't believe I just downloaded The Great Nothing- Spock's Beard. 27 minutes long. I am so going to get distracted half way through and switch to something else. Stupid lack of attention span.

Goodbye to Yesterday is a very, very pretty song. Winamp pulled Vash on it. Aw.

Finally saw Priscilla, Queen of the Desert; Hugo Weaving makes such an adorable drag queen, and I wish I had a son like that kid. "Do you do ABBA, too?" Or an older brother like Felicia. (But then, the thought of either of my brothers in drag is enough to make me twitch. Some things just should not be contemplated.) Everyone should watch this movie, it's wonderful. I finally see why dad kept harping on about it. *grin*

I'm quite excited about the thought of CB as Batman, but I'll never be able to get the image of him doing inappropriate things with Ewan McGregor out of my mind. It just totally ruins my image of the Dark Knight- the glitter, man, the glitter! Damn thee, Velvet Goldmine, and your glam rock yumminess! ...never mind. You'd have to see the movie to understand, and I wouldn't recommend that to most of you. It'd just be too traumatic.

Enough trauma for tonight. Ta.

Ng. Now I remember why David Bowie did occasionally disturb me.

Movie night last night. Velvet Goldmine. Christian Bale, silly hair, Ewan McGregor's penis, the Sexiest Brian vs the Sexiest Kurt, singing in a frock, flipping them off, David Bowie and a soccer coach, because those are obviously connected, dolls! and what. the. fuck. aliens, glitter, dead glitter, naked men, satellite of looooove, sexy mullets, Oscar Wilde is a space creature, where's the resolution?

(By resolution, I mean happy ending where everyone gets back together, because I am a sap.)

And that was Velvet Goldmine. It gave me creepy, creepy dreams about immortal rock stars taking over the world and sacrificing Godsmack to the greater good. There were also hillbillies with shotguns who killed everyone, including the immortal rockstars, who happened to bear a passing resemblance to Matt Damon and Ben Afflek. I'm sure the whole dream was a metaphor of some sort for the misery of human condition and the ever-present feelings of intolerance and hatred towards those who are different.

My dreams are catching up with me now; I'm not sure if I should be worried or not.

Still, as far as gay movies based in flashback go, this one was pretty damn amusing- although I would normally expect Christian Bale to top. His character was such a tragically stupid one, however, that it's okay.

Never mind.

"All that glitters- is GAY!"

'kay, maybe it's just my browser. but if you're having trouble reading more than a post and a half, try making your window smaller and then making it fullsize again. Don't reduce it, just make it smaller. That seems to fix it. How strange and random...

hmm...still no idea why the archives don't work at random intervals. don't really care at this point, either. look, fewer ads!
*sigh* I'm going to finish my homework now. I have class at 8:30 tomorrow.

So, uh, somebody leave a comment? Please? It would make me ever so happy...

And, uh, I'd like to know if the stupid blog made the transition to blogspot okay. I swear, someday I will get veradicere.net, some day!

...just, not now, when I'm finally realizing exactly how easy it is to spend ridiculous amounts of money on random shit while at college. Summer paycheck? I had a summer paycheck? Really?

I won't order Six String Samurai on DVD, or all of the Christopher Moore books on Amazon, or any of the yummy doujinshi on ebay. Not now. Won't do it. On the other hand, if any of you need ideas for birthday gifts...

Nah, I'll use my discount cards at Odessy and see if I can't find any Christopher Moore there.

*le sigh* I'm feeling very undereducated here. Stupid Franklin English classes. I need to find me some motivation and read some of those required senior reading books. Alas.

...Livejournal is going down like a two dolla ho again. Bad lj. I need new icons (though the fern one amuses me a great deal...) I also need to learn how to properly punctationalize things in parentheses. Yes, punctuationalize is a word. Don't argue with me, it's late and I have homework.

But we have cable now. *happy thumb dance* And cable means food and cartoon network. Boo-yaka.

fucking hell, blogger.

?

aaaand, testing, testing?

Mmmkay, the blog should be relocated to:
veradicere.blogspot.com

Because tripod is a bitch to end all bitches, that's why.

I think the issues are all tripod's fault; expect a move at some point in the future.

Sometimes the fear is choking; sometimes it is nonexistant. Sometimes, we have no idea who is standing where, and that just sucks.

---(A few for everyone)---
I think I'm dying, but that just seems blasphemous, somehow. I would've asked, but only he ever answered my questions, and I think he's dead too. Somehow, that seems even worse. We weren't supposed to die, after all. But I suppose its better this way. Who needs immortality when it's this empty?

Oddly enough, that feels the most blasphemous of all.

She found them in the library, slumped over their books and snoring in unison. One could almost believe they were brothers, twins even, despite their mismatched colors. She wondered, if they woke up and glanced at each other, would they be confused at the colors in the mirror? Or would green and silver, brown and gold seem commonplace to them?

She watched them sleeping a while longer, before carefully easing their books out from under their slack jawed faces. They did not so much as stir, and her cloak was large enough to cover them both.

She would see them again in the morning.
------------

Woo, obscurity. I love being vague like that.

Samantha and Guildenstern on Audioslave's "Like a Stone". *shiver* Oooh, winamp, you are cruel. It's such a pretty skin, too, with Guildenstern looking so evil and pissy. I absolutely adore pissy evil. And I love this song; so does winamp. It's constantly playing, which is kind of annoying, even though I do like it.

Funny, I didn't know til Karan told me that Soundgarden broke up and was reformed as Audioslave. S'prolly why I like 'em so much.
...Ashley on "It's the End of the World as We Know It". D'oi. Winamp seems to be in a Vagrant Story sort of mood. A shame I'll be turning it off in a minute.

Did you know they sell the dvd of Spaceballs at Target for ten bucks? Neither did I. *happy dance* Good stuff, good stuff- I haven't seen this movie in ages. I think my complete and utter geekiness confuses and frightens Tina. I wear the same clothing she does, more or less, minus those stupid Old Navy tshirts with the idiotic logos. I realize that I look vaguely preppy at times, with my pseudo Gap clothing. But you really can't judge by appearances alone. When on the bus last night (and yesterday afternoon, yesterday evening, and basically all of yesterday) Tina oggled some random guy in an incredibly ugly sweater. He looked like a jock; broad shoulders, nice cheekbones, what have you. I, meanwhile, was oggling the snarky bus driver, who had numerous bits of hardware in his ears, a shaved head, and a bolt through the back of his neck. Never seen one of those piercings before. (The girl with the space between her eyebrows pierced wins strangest piercing, though Tina claimed to have seen someone with their cheeks pierced.)

Heh. Our differences amuse me. Don't get me wrong, Tina's a really nice girl, and she's just as out of place as I am, but we really are complete opposites.

But the bus driver really was cute. He drove us home Friday night too. ;)

...Kaworu with a skin titled "Ode to Joy" (of course, it's Kaworu), on "Life is a Flower". Hi, winamp? Yes, it's very poetic and pretty and whatnot, but really. Doncha think that's a bit too obvious? The secret lives of computer programs...

what. the. fuck?

So, yeah, the main character and the first four archetype bios all follow; I can't do any drawing til I get my new pen in the mail, alas.

Way to go with spamming my own journal, though.

:)

Yeah, I know I'm not explaining things like what Ula is, how it works, and what exactly happened during the Bleak...that's all pointless backstory at this point, I think. If y'really wanna know, ask.

Hmm...should I buy the Think Like Amano poster series for my dorm? *sigh* It's so very tempting, and my walls are so very bare...

Adarial/Shivetth
occupation: archetype of life/death
preferred gender: female/male
age: older than you, younger than Zazi and Rhonaya
height: 5'8"
hair: eye searing neon green streaked with purple/black streaked with dark red
eyes: bright green/ black
build: slenderish

Adarial and Shivetth are two different people with two different bodies and two different personalities...stuck in the same space. So you can only talk to one of them at a time, as they can't both occupy their space at the same time. No one is exactly sure where the other one goes when not visible; they aren't telling. They're Zazi and Rhonaya's first and only children, which might explain why they're like siamese twins gone wrong; that probably isn't the case, though, as the elemental archetypes were all spawned from some combination of Adarial/Shivetth and Zazi or Rhonaya, and none of them are particularly mutated...

They're twins, and two sides of the same thing. Without life, there is no death; without death, life becomes meaningless. So they're stuck together. They don't mind, not really; they get along fabulously, though like they're parents, they are complete opposites.

Adarial is spastic, thoughtless, and flighty, but she is also very, very charismatic, warm, and beautiful. Ignore the fact that her features are blinding; she is the most beautiful of all the archetypes, though no one can actually figure out why. She is everything that life is; frustrating, confusing, and careless. In addition to representing life, she also represents freedom, and her personailty ultimately reflects this. She is free from everything, all responsibilities and cares and worries- no matter what, she goes on. The only the she is not free of is death, her brother. Adarial is everyone's friend; she's the life of all the parties, so to speak. She's not so much cruel as she is careless; life goes on whether those living it want it to.

Shivetth is a very serious, quiet person, but he is without a doubt the kindest of all the archetypes. His sister's lightheartedness counterbalances his own sobriety, and his kindness counters her callousness. Shivetth is a lot like Zazi, and 'Darial takes after Rhonaya; he's the only person who can stand to be around Zazi for any length of time (mostly owing to his being in love with the idiot) and he's also the only person who doesn't increase the chaos factor around Zazi. The only person not killing him is the personification of death. There's irony there, too. Either way, Shivetth gets along pretty well with everything, unless they're mortal, of course. He's utterly devoted to his sister and to Zazi, though he doesn't often show it. A little on the emotionless side, sometimes, but infinitely compassionate.

Adarial feels the pain and exhilaration of every birth, while Shivetth feels the relief and sadness of every death. It's a wonder they're both still reasonably sane.

Rhonaya (Rhone)
occupation: archetype of Chaos
preferred gender: it's so hard to tell sometimes...but female
age: more than you but less than Zazi
height: uh...
hair: ditto
eyes: we only wish we knew
She's a chaos archetype. She looks like whatever she wants to look like, which can be anything from a giant blue bloodsucking duck to a middle aged librarian. When around Zazi or the other archetypes, she usually takes the shape of a very tall, curvy woman. Hair and eye color are arbitrary.

She isn't evil; she's chaotic. This makes her the most powerful archetype, as chaos conquers everything eventually. In the very end, it will be just her, and nothing else; but when there is only chaos, it becomes order because there is nothing else to compare it to. Relativity will destroy her, but unlike Zazi, who will dwindle to nothing and go out with a whimper, Rhonaya will grow more and more powerful until she implodes. Big Bang- and everything starts over.

Rhonaya, however, has much longer to live.

She assimilates aspects of the people around her; her personality is just a conglomeration of all the rest of existance. Her mood swings are deadly, but when she's up she's really up. The only constant with her is that she likes to mess with Zazi. She only does it out of love, and because it's in her nature to whittle down order's defenses. If she knew how close she is to killing Zazi, she'd be horrified, but the problem is that she just doesn't realize it.

They aren't perfect, loving siblings, of course. They argue constantly because Zazi is so anal and Rhone is the complete opposite. Zazi would be like the square meal, and Rhone would be "let them eat cake! with ice cream! and pie! and soup! cake soup!" Then they would glare at each other and start shouting. After the Bleak and the delegation of most responsibilities to the deities, Zazi went hermit like on Rhone, and she stopped bothering him, content with playing in her own worlds. Rhone is very easily amused; if she gets bored, she just goes and pays a visit to the element archetypes, or Shivetth and Adarial, who are always glad to see anyone, especially Rhonaya.

Rhone's a good person, except when it comes to Zazi, and she can't really help that. When she can muster the attention span, she's very devoted to her children (the other archetypes and her creations) and when she's not in one of her mega-bitch moodswings, she can be very sweet.

Kinda hard to describe, really, but that's what comes of being the personification of chaos, I suppose...

So, yeah; those of you interested in being a sounding board for Avatar (meaning Bo, but anyone else who wants to, really) can just leave a comment or something; hells, leave a comment anyway, even if it's just to say 'yo, you're a moron and aren't really going to go through with this'. That's okay.

Mmm, head banging to Carmina Burana. Gotta love somethin' composed by a guy named Orff. Just say it a couple of times. Orff Orff Orff! Heh.

name: Zazi (*coughcoughguadocoughcough*)
occupation: archetype of order
age: a few hundred millennia or so, give or take an aeon
preferred gender: male
height: 6'
build: average
hair: white blonde
eyes: gray

Zazi is the oldest self aware being, as Space and Time don't count. They're just sort of there, if y'know what I mean. Zazi is, as one would expect, a complete and total anal retentive, obsessive compulsive, type A personality. He can't help it, it's just what he is. He's also chronically depressed and a complete and utter pessimist to the point where you really, really want to smack him in conversation. That's mostly his sister's fault; in the beginning, he was quite happy. Now, toward the end, he's gotten to be more than a little cynical.

He's only the oldest by a bit, as his sister popped into being as soon as he'd gotten his bearings and had a good look around. Rhonaya is the archetype of Chaos, and in the very beginning, they were very close. But as soon as Rhone grew into her power, they became not exactly enemies, but certainly not friends. Like Dar and his mother, no matter what he does, Zazi cannot escape his sister. She is entropy, and entropy will always encroach upon order. She's also incredibly manipulative, and has Zazi wrapped around her finger.

Of all the archetypes, Zazi is usually the only one with any sort of plan or method to his actions. The others do what they want, when they want, and damn the consequences. He is cursed with always knowing the consequences, and because of the nature of the universe, the consequences are slowly killing him. Rhonaya grows stronger as he grows weaker; entropy increases, order decreases, and Zazi dies a little bit more every day. His cynicism is understandable when you look at things from his point of view.

Zazi is actually fairly easy to get along with, once you accept that he is the personification of order. He accepted long ago that no matter what he does, the universe will ultimately destroy him; he exercises complete control over his own domains, but basically lets everyone else do as they wish. He was once a domineering hardass with no consideration for anything but himself, but he's mellowed out severely over the years. Encroaching death does that to some people.

The worlds he controls are basically blank, featureless places, empty and perfectly ordered. The rest of the universe isn't allowed in; after the Bleak on Ula, Zazi became rather hermit like, moving his branches to the outskirts of Ula, as far away from everything else as possible. It's a survival tactic; so long as he has one sanctuary, he can survive. I keeps him alive, but it's rather lonely.

The irony is that if he cut himself off completely from the rest of Ula, no only would his own worlds wither and die, but Ula itself would wither as well; in a rare act of selflessness, he made the system able to sustain itself without him to watch over it. Eventually, everything will fall apart, but by then he'll be gone.

Yes, Zazi is vaguely depressing. He also has more issues than you can shake a small furry animal at, and they're all Rhonaya's fault. (I really am being rather misogynistic here, aren't I? How odd...)

Vash on Scar Tissue. Thank you, Winamp.

Darwin Damaskenos
age: 23
height: 5'9
build: underfed
hair: black and unkempt, longish and in need of a trim
eyes: brown, completely unremarkable
Darwin gives off the vibe of someone who can't be bothered to look after his appearance; most of his clothing is too big and hasn't made the acquaintence of a washing machine in a while. His hair needs to be cut, or at the very least combed, as he looks rather shaggy right now. He also looks like he doesn't remember to eat, ever; anorexic comes to mind, though he isn't, really. His metabolism simply resembles a humming bird's. He wears glasses for reading unless he can't find them, in which case he squints. He does, fortunately, remember to bathe regularly, though lately he hasn't bothered to do even that.

Dar lived with his mother and Diana because neither of them had any place to go. Diana came in off the streets at his mother's invite, and his mother had been evicted from her apartment a few years before. So he wasn't exactly living with his mother; more like his mother was living with him. Really, he's not quite that much of a loser. Pathetic, yes, but not precisely a loser.

He works in a bookstore, more or less full time. It's one of those hole-in-the-wall places that specializes in the weird and occult. Dar loves his job because he gets to write up his own ordering lists, and as a result, the store has one of the most well stocked Pagan and New Age sections in the city. In addition to books, they also sell occult supplies and random kitsch; the problem with this is that they're not sure where half the stuff came from, and sometimes you can see something one day and never see it again. Not because it's been stolen, but because it's decided to literally wander away. Dar is sure he saw a copy of the pop-up Necronomicon sitting on one of the coffee tables, but when he went to put it back on a shelf, it tried to bite him. He got the manager, and when he got back, the book was gone.

Under normal circumstances, people would just assume Dar had imagined it, but other equally strange things have happened to other employees. It's become so commonplace that no one really notices anymore, unless small children get lost in the stacks. (Think Terry Prachett's L-space; it's a little like that.) They do sell normal books, too; bestsellers and trashy romance novels and art books and the like. The store is actually much larger than it looks, due to the dimensional warping and the upstairs loft.

Dar himself is a little spastic at times, but usually pretty easy going. Since he can't get away from his mother no matter how hard he tries, he's developed a rather shy personality and tends to lack self confidence. His mother was a complete and utter manipulative bitch. Being around Diana really just made it worse; the crush he developed for her really never went beyond puppy love, but she manipulated his emotions according to her whims. She wasn't quite as bad as his mother, as she was a little bit nicer about what she did, but still...Dar will let you walk all over him without a second thought. No spine whatsoever.

His two closest friends, Jude and Miranda, have tried for years to get him to stand up for himself. He's progressed to the point where he can stand up to them, which is a rather marked improvement from when they all first met. But anyone else can order him around with no problem.

Yes, he is pathetic. In may ways, he's a lot like Zazi, aside from his perpetual disorganization; people use him and then ignore him. When the archetypes appear, they do the same thing; only Adarial really has any sympathy for him, but Adarial has sympathy for everyone, when she feels like concentrating on it hard enough. (Stupid spastic archetypes.)

Dar was raised Pagan by his mother and they lived like gypsies for the most part; he never received any formal education as they more or less wandered the country. He also has no idea who his father is; his mother won't tell him. Now he's a solitary eclecltic Wiccan who occasionally helps out at his mother's Coven. He has an uncanny knack for spell casting and rituals, but he really wants nothing to do with the coven, preferring his own methods of worship. Of course when his mother tells him to do something, he generally doesn't see a choice in the matter. (He knows perfectly well that it's unhealthy and that she's crushed his spirit completely; he just isn't capable of doing anything about it at this point. And he doesn't fawn over her- he's tried time and time again to get away, but he can't.)

And that's Dar in a coconut shell, more or less. So many issues. Alas.

Watching winmx download a song at 49 kb/s actually brought tears to my eyes.

Wow. This is what I've been living without.

And Winamp just pulled One Winged Angel on K. K being the psychotic American from Gravitation- the guy with the same Seiyuu as Crawford of Weiss Kreuz. So even if he didn't tote around an AK-47 for the express purpose of cowing Yuki Eiri into submission, I'd still like him.

I need Sephiroth skins. I don't have any, anywhere. This is a horrible lack that must be remedied. At least I have Kaworu skins now. Hee, Kaworu.
...and I need to memorize the lyrics to Ira Vehementi. Cuz they're coo'.

...and winmx has a video file sharing capability. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!
That was bad, and I apologize. I should go buy books now, but I really don't want to...Alas.

The Doorway
I really don't care if you're not in my sight
I really don't think but I think I'm right
It don't bother me none if you're depressed or depraved
'Cause I'm not the one and you don't need to be saved

As the sunrise comes down the doorway
And the snow white falls like rain down an alley
I'll be sending my light your way
You are the doorway
YOU ARE THE DOOR

I really don't care if you lay it all down
I really don't mind if you switch off the sound
Put it in reverse we might sound better that way
Say what you want 'cause it's all o.k.

As the sunrise comes down the doorway
And the snow white falls like rain down an alley
I'll be sending my light your way
You are the doorway
You are the doorway
YOU ARE THE DOOR

What are you waiting for?
What are you hoping will happen now?

Out of the sycamore darkness
The dye was cast
Time has passed away
Color in the world by numbers
Masked in fear
And you can't hear me say
You are the doorway
You are the DOOR

As the sunrise comes down the doorway
And the snow white falls like rain down an alley
I'll be sending my self your way
Don't you know
YOU ARE THE DOOR

I really don't care if you're not in my sight
I really don't think but I think I'm right
It don't bother me none if you're depressed or depraved
'Cause I'm not the one and you don't need to be saved

I really don't care if you twist or you shout
I really don't think what you think you're about
It don't bother me none if you shoot under par
'Cause I know what I am and I know what you are

As the sunrise comes down the doorway
And the snow white falls like rain down an alley
I'll be sending my life your way
You are the doorway
You are the doorway
You are the door
You are the door
You are
THE DOOR
-Spock's Beard, "The Doorway"

...Hello, Avatar's themesong. And how are you doing?
Yeah. That's Dar. That's all Dar. That's basically what Dar is, and how everyone else sees him- to an extent, also how he sees himself.

That, and it's just a really cool song, with some kickass piano melodies. I would maim someone for a Spock's Beard CD.

...I really need to set up winmx or kazaa or icq or something so i can download mp3s. Because I can probably do it really, really quickly now. Oh yeah, ethernet. Or would that be aethernet? Hee.

I'm afraid most of my Godless Avatar thoughts are on hold at the moment, what with my wacom pen not being there. I did finally order a new one, however; why the hell is shipping so damned expensive? Ground shipping is ten dollars, and that's ridiculous when all I want shipped is a two ounce plastic pen. Wrap it in some bubble wrap and stick in an envelope, that's all I want.

*sigh* I've been having issues with my address. It's 2671, not 2761, which I may have told people. Mrp. Need to do a random shoutout to people...Cuz it would suck majorly if other people got my mail. Alas.

Right, so, the webcomic will be found at godlessavatar.keenspace.com, once I finish a couple of pages, and once I stop obsessing over Grayling enough to form coherent original ideas.

The main character's name is Darwin. The world is similar to our own, just...expanded. And all those random deities do exist, they've just been forgotten about for the most part- excepting the members of Dar's coven, who follow a slightly skewed version of eclectic Wicca. They're all that's supplying the ancient gods with the belief power to survive, and even that isn't enough for many of them. The dying out of the deities is just a symptom of a much larger problem, one which grabs the attention of the archetypes. (That should probably have a capital 'a', actually...)

The archetypes are just what they sound like- the original gods, the templates for all the ones to follow. (They're elementals, really, but sh! I'm attempting to be original.) They're the ones who turn Dar into a multipurpose avatar. When one of them can't personally be there to posess his body, they delegate the responsibility to a deity.

Still working on the plot, but I know how it begins! I'm just working too much on the archetypes' personalities, since I already know who Dar is and who his friends are and what his deal is. In fact, I more or less know the overplot, it's just the inner plots that I haven't gotten around to.

And besides, immortal, omnipotent beings with angst issues are just much more fun to contemplate than a short order cook with a dead girlfriend and an oedipus complex. (He's not really a short order cook, in fact I think he's unemployed- but you know what I mean.)

Judecca, one of the characters from Boffo that didn't make the cut, features prominently. I don't know if the rest of the Boffo cast is going to be making any cameos, but they might. It would probably be amusing on all our parts. I intend for this whole thing to be a largely amusing experience, and I don't particularly intend for it to appeal to most of you. (Most of you meaning Bo and Kristen; I don't intend to censor this project the way I have all the others. Just lettin' ya know.)

Bwa. Queen is on TV. Mmm, yummy music.

Uh...holy fuck on a stick- I move into my dorm tomorrow.

And I really hate those Pepsi Vanilla commercials. Ew. Pepsi.

But- I'm moving in tomorrow...

eep.

Wow, and I didn't even know Grayling was all slash and yaoi-ish before I fell in love with it. Mmm, angst. More angst than you can shake a stick at. I need to learn to color like that...

So, I have signed up for a keenspace account at last. Still waiting for my account confirmation email and shiz, but that will come soon, and then I will start my comic. The name? Godless Avatar. Still working on the plot, but I have the first page done and damn is it ugly.

It pleases me, because I know it'll get better. And it pleases me because I like the backstory; it makes sense, and it's not freakishly complicated or far-out like so many of my other ideas are. It also manages to pull off beings something like a crossover to my other stories- Song of Shadows and Feathers in particular. This also pleases me.

And it has the Pagans vs the Christians vs the Lions at some point, which will amuse me to no end.

Just about done packing, aside from the stuff that's not packed. Have to work on that.

Damn. I'm going to miss my rpgs. The ones I haven't finished, that is. (Damn Vagrant Story and the fact that it always kills me!) I believe I'll have to run through the ending of FFVII before I go- in addition to doing my homework and updating Godless on a regular basis, I shall make it my goal to write a fanfic that I am not ashamed of showing the world. (TSAT, you do not count. That was eighth grade, and you sucked.)

Going off to finish packing what isn't packed now. *wanders*

Oh yeah-

To all of y'all out there-
*hugs* I love ya, guys! *smooch*

*screams* GOD DAMN THEE, TRIPOD, THOU FOUL SON OF A THREE LEGGED, ONE EYED, MANGY, SYPHILITIC BITCH! DAMN THEE TO THE LOWEST LEVEL OF HELL, THE ONE DESIGNATED FOR STINKING, EXTORTIONIST, MONEY GRUBBING, UGLY-MINDED IRRITANTS UPON THE FACE OF EXISTANCE!

In other news, This person's art is very pretty. I adore the noses and the free flowing lines.

I felt the need to change the title...don't give me that look, the song amuses me, okay? I am my typically easily amused self, we all know that...

So, Fake vol 2? Only three episodes, to the first volume's four, but they were longer to make up for it. I think I liked 1-3 better than 5-6, but I liked 7 better than 4. Every volume apparently has one episode devoted to Cal and Bicky, the featured straight couple. They're kids, so it's cute, but not half as interesting as Dee and Ryo, if you ask me.

The plot is really just a very flimsy excuse for scenes of Dee groping Ryo and for Dee to be a smartass every other panel. Oddly enough, I don't mind. :) Shoddy plot or not, the art is very, very pretty. (In other words, who needs plot when you can stare at Dee's ass?) I think the only reason I like the first volume a bit better is because it's all character introduction (though episode 6 did introduce Berkley Rose, the dead sexy new member of the 27th precinct. Mmm, sexy evil bishies) and character development. Not so much character development in volume 2. Still very pretty, however. Mmm, pretty.

;P Yummy. (Why yes, I am shallow, fangirlish, and largely driven by extremely confused hormones, why do you ask?)

Aaaanyway. So, while watching tv last night, I wrote a thing. A strange, bizarre thing inspired by Gargoyles and The Mummy. The main character needs a name, but he's some sort of Pagan who had been working with his mother and a woman named Diana (oh, just shut up) to complete some sort of fancy ass powerful ritual. But both his mother and Diana died obtaining a phoenix feather, which was required in the ritual. Nameless gets a hold of the feather and attempts the spell, but the spellbooks were all destroyed when Diana died, so he's acting mostly on instinct here.

He ends up turning himself into a walking conduit for the divine; every single pagan deity is clambering for a space in his soul, so they can work their will upon the world. It's a pretty raw deal for nameless, but he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.

And gods, no matter how small, tend to be bitchy and opionated. A large quantity of gods in a very small space (Nameless' skull) is just going generate lots and lots of drama. Gods are nothing if not ridiculous drama queens.

They end up drawing lots, and the first goddess to get her turn at the wheel, so to speak, is Eos, the Greco-Roman goddess of dawn. Helping Eos are various other dawn deities, but she's the one with the most power. So, in addition to a splitting reaction headache and a tendency to see double, Nameless is also stuck with a pair of twenty foot, glowing, rainbow colored wings.

And Eos won't tell him how to get rid of them, because she thinks they're pretty.

Crackheaded deities.

I've no idea what the gods really want with him, or what his mother and Diana were trying to do with a phoenix feather; all I know is that he's gotten himself into some rather hilarious and pathetic shennanigans, and it amuses me. Don't know if I'll do anything with this later; I just felt the need for a dark and brooding male character with no familial connections and no suicidal tendencies. *coughcoughDeicoughcough*

I swear I'll go to bed soon...just not quite yet.

It was a beautiful day today and, like many of the past few days, filled with far too many people. My social anxiety, already aggravated by the thought of leaving in a week to be in a place that is entirely strange and unknown, has made normal social interaction even more unbearable than it was before.

Not to say that I don't love spending time with my friends; I'm just overly sensitive and easily overwhelmed at the moment. I told Wendy that it was harder to think of leaving now, because I finally have achieved a state of 'we'. (Didn't use that terminology, of course.) I no longer feel the desperate, desperate need to get out of here that I did last summer, or that I felt when writing my college essays. I have a group now, and a place within the group. It's a small group, but it's mine. And I am moderately content with my place.

But that was Wednsday, and now I'm starting to feel that restless, itchy need to get away.

It was a beautiful day today, and I spent the better part of it inside; there was a window open upstairs, however. Through it I could see the sunlight through the trees in the backyard, and I could smell the end of summer on the breeze. As it has every year, that scent fills me with an unmistakeable dread. School or some sort of other unknown approaches with inevitable steps, and I can feel each minute plodding by, bringing me closer and closer to- what, I do not know. And that's the problem. I do not know what to expect, or what to do, so it's easiest to do nothing.

Less than a week left, now. Less than a week, and I've no idea what I should do. Everything feels off balance...

So I sit and watch Teen Titans while I can, and laugh at the little green guy. Much adoration to the cynic girl, too. Confusion as to which Robin, amusement at Starfire, and general apathy towards Cyborg. Alas, that I don't know the real story of these guys. But joy, at the levels of crack contained therein. Seriously, there's more crack here than in the Superman episode with mxylspt, and that was a lot of crack. It's the evolution of American cartoons; eventually, it'll all be anime. (Oh yeah, I really love the little green guy.)

"Try a tofudog, Raven! They're full of soybeany goodness!"
"I respect that you don't eat meat. Please respect that I don't eat fake meat."

Gee, that seems familiar, for some reason...;) And now, Ruroni Kenshin! Huzzah.

art!

Finally, something halfway decent! It's Sephiroth (the computer), as he would look as a human. Looks rather like the original, I know- but I think his hair is backwards. Don't ask me what he's wearing, it wasn't really my idea. I'm not sure whose idea it was, but it wasn't mine. Just ignore most of the boots (still can't draw feet unless they're just random blobby things on the end of an ankle) and the wonkiness of the sword.

In other news, Painter is an amazingly spiff program, but it's completely different from photoshop. Eep. My amateur methods of coloring things does not work well in painter, sadly...but it's a lovely program for doing lineart, which is something that photoshop utterly blows at. Huzzah, and happy day, y'know?

I do so love my pwecious wittle waptop, I do indeed...*giggle* Right. No guarantees that I'll stop being such a spaz, I'm afraid. :)

Well, it's good to know that somebody loves me.

Who loves me? My laptop loves me.

*love*