June 18th, 2004

Quiet - PhotoGnome

Happy Friday!

Happy birthday to captain_bob and joe_christ!

Happy early birthday to adric, amai_unmei, k_crow, mermaidblue, rosefox, static_eddie, and treadpath, all of whom advance a year over the weekend!

Hello to new readers bucketofribs, das_hydra, princessrini, silveraj, and sophiasgrrl!

Yendi Update
The plane arrived in Newark at 1 AM - he got to Princeton Junction via train at 2 AM, but guess what? The local trains from *there* don't start running til 5 AM. So he had to wait there for 3 hours.

Yeah. He was supposed to land at 4:30 PM yesterday. He just now got in. (Just got off the phone with him. He's going to bed now.)

Gmail Giveaway
Please recommend a good book in comments - first five will get Gmail invite codes! They are gone daddy gone!

Writing Log
Yesterday at lunch - a conversation between Halloran and Donna immediately post-Purges.

Unpacking Is
I woke up an hour earlier than usual today - and blasted through a bunch of boxes. Go me! Oh also, I broke down every single empty box and took them out to the trash. My carport is CLEAN. Collapse )

Friending Frenzy
Still going strong. Still getting new bios. Dude.

Short-sleeved violet stretchy shirt. Jeans. My panties have Hello Kitty on them; my socks have sparkly cats.

Comics Prose, edited by Nat Gertler - short stories by comic writers and artists, including Peter David, Bill Mumy, Paul Dini, Max Allan Collins, etc... good stuff. I had not heard of this book - just saw it on the shelf in my old comic shop in Vegas. (Dude, the owner was tweaking hardcore.)

Look, just assume "unpacking" all weekend, 'k?

Saturday night: mermaidblue's birthday dinner!

Sunday: wmga Book Challenge Coffee. I only have 21 pages left in my monthly notebook - go me! satia, manifestress, the rest of you - how are you doing on yours?

Also - I need times for both of those events, guys. :P

Okay! So you?
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    accomplished accomplished


Guys? Please lj-cut non-work-safe pictures.

I mean, I like it when you cut quizzes, too. Because even if I love you dearly, I don't really care what animal or character from an Anne Rice novel you are. But that's just a preference.

Basic netiquette - pictures of naked ladies (or men) should be under a cut-tag. Okay? How to make one: [lj-cut], but with <> instead of [].

Please. She is beautiful, I agree, and I'll absolutely go back and look at the pictures later, but my boss doesn't really need to see that.

Thank you.

(It's a friends-only post that I'm directly referring to, so you needn't scour my friends page looking for pics. But this goes for all y'all.)
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    anxious anxious
Feral - PhotoGnome

On being totawwy awone

So yendi's out of town.

I don't do well when yendi's out of town.

I'm fine during the day, mind. It's nighttime that freaks me out. I came home from the movie last night and pretty much searched the house, heart pounding. And I was unable to settle down. It took me forever to get to sleep.

I thought that it would be easier in this house. I mean, I have PTSD in general. But the old house had been broken into twice... so it felt Very Unsafe.

This house isn't Unsafe. New place. Different neighborhood. Very open street corner (the old house was very tree-shrouded). The odds that someone would even try to break in are low. I mean, really, the odds of home invasion anywhere are fairly low. But this is a pretty safe neighborhood.

But I can't sleep.

I used to ask people to sleep over when yendi was out of town. I want to try to not need that. Just... on edge.
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    anxious anxious

Regarding music (parts of this are Shayara (http://www.shayara.com) bits)

Have you ever had the meaning of a song change on you? Say it's a song you've been listening to for a while, but now you realize that it spells out exactly how you feel about this and such a person or this and such a situation. And then you lose that song. It's gone specific on you.

It's worse when you realize that about a negative situation.

And then you realize that you keep playing the song over and over and hey, that's psychologically unhealthy, so! Out of the car it goes.

Okay, so that's a negative one.

What I like is when I find Lyric's voice in songs. It doesn't alter them at all in my head. It's just that these are things that she can hold on to, these can be her language.

The former on the way to lunch, and no, I don't think I want to say what artist and song it was at this time. :)

The latter is "Letter Read" by Rachael Yamagata. This is the free song on iTunes this week. No, no one's paying me to endorse this - I just really like the song.

Will quote lyrics later. Meant to now, but my brain is tangly from too many interruptions.


"And I'm afraid, and I can't breathe
And I'm in love with you, but you are not with me..."

One of the reasons Napalm bonds with Lyric the way he does is simply that, in a way, they both speak music. It's her sole method of communication, but it's definitely a very important thing in his life as well.

Which he's got in common with me, of course.

Johnathan will give him a hard time for hanging around with "the kid" so much, but Napalm says, "Dude, she's quoting Barry Manilow. I gotta get her more words."

I should do a little text sidebar about Shayara. I don't want to irritate longtime readers by explaining the story over and over, and I don't want to irritate New Kids by making them go WTF? all the time. *shakes head*

And I'm rambling and out to go, now that I've diverged from the point entirely. Not that the point was very point-y.

Tangent Lass strikes again!
Welcome home

More echoes

Dear G.,

Being in Vegas last week was surreal. Walking through time, ghostlike and indistinct. So many of the old paths.

I had forgotten that Web's apartment complex had been so close to the coffeehouse. Turned the corner, and I was faced with it - and it's funny, I don't remember Web when I look at that building, I remember you. So many times the bunch of us hung out there, but I remember one time so strongly that for years I've had it in my "Walking on Water" notes.

When you were housesitting for him, and I showed up at the door, unable to handle the nervous energy of the other guys. You had the lights down and candles lit even though it was just you. It was like stepping into another world, feeling the tension flow from me.

And we stayed up all damn night and talked. Mostly about the metaphysical stuff that so many of our other friends would roll their eyes at. Just talking, music in the background, Natalie Merchant telling us that the night belongs to lovers. I was the confessor for Hal, for Frank; I pulled conversation from Layne with difficulty, he and I being mostly nonverbal with each other. You and I were the ones who actually talked with each other.

And at dawn, we ended up in bed together. Well, of course we did, we were us. :) Laughing helplessly as we tried to stay on Web's air mattress, giving up and sliding to the floor, you inside me and no hurrying, no goal, just being there, time seemingly slowing in order to grant us a whole night just of this, just of being together. Away from the rest of this life.

An old sunbleached concrete building now, ten years later, but we were there then.

My mind holds onto all of the pain, all of the nightmares.

I am blessed to never have lost this.



I never thought I'd say this.

It is sheer heresy to say this.

We... have too many books. *sob* *hides face*

Wait, wait, before you stone me in the town square, please understand this! The fiction section went up swimmingly... because I packed the books in order. They were slightly out of order due to some hardcovers not fitting where they ought to, but still. Painless.

I just alphabetized the graphic novels.

There are three bookcases' worth of graphic novels.

No, I'm not kidding.

And they were completely out of order, due to us not having had bookboxes and having had to frantically shovel books into boxes any which way we could the day of the move.

We have a few hundred big heavy graphic novels. That I stacked in order on the floor, emptying out every graphic novel book box. We only have one bookcase actually built (two more in boxes). So numbers through M are stacked on the floor.

I've been doing this since 5:30, 6:00.

My brain is saying "Keep going on the nonfiction! You can do it! Those shelves are already built, even! Go team!"

My back is saying "Bitch, don't even."

Pain worse than during the move.

Can't can't can't.

Must keep reminding myself that the pain will get worse if I keep going....

I want chai. *sigh*
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    sore sore
Writing - XanaDuMalion

(no subject)

Said to phantom_wolfboy right now, after he described a chain of events I wrote as "tear-inducing"...

"Good. If I'm not emotionally eviscerating you, I'm not doing my job as a writer. :)"

Cruel cruel writergirl. But yes. If you care when my characters are hurting? I'm doing my job satisfactorily.

And I am now going to bed. *salute*

(And no, I didn't do any more bookstuff. I had some Oreos and watched an old Smallville. Trying to get caught up on the TiVo, dontcha know.)
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    accomplished accomplished