![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kleenexwomanMy throat still hurts, but I'm drinking a great deal of tea and eating fizzy tablets to make it feel better. I've invented a drink which soothes it greatly. The recipe:
Take 1 (one) of those little honey squeeze bottles which only has enough honey left to coat the walls, but not enough to actually drip out. Take off the cap and put some warm water into it. Shake well until all the honey has dissolved and there is foam. Squirt into a teacup. Add some lemon juice, because the honey on its own is way too sweet and tastes odd. Microwave frequently, as cold honey lemon does your bronchial passages no good.
Alternately, trudge through the slush and snow to get Taco Bell with your little brother, then put a ton of Fire sauce packets on your taco because otherwise you can't taste it. Your nose will start to run, draining all the excess mucous out of your sinuses. Then you will go "aargh" and wonder if the snow outside hasn't been too polluted with car fumes to stuff into your mouth.
Apparently my cousin Becca has a sore throat as well. Which is leading to all sorts of "OMG, strep? Bronchitis? What if she has throat cancer?" fluttering in the Grandma Debbie world. So since her normal chore-monkey is abed with scratchy larynx disease, Grandma Debbie called up to see if Brian was available to take in her groceries.
Me: "Uh, Brian, do you want to be picked up by Grandma Debbie so you can take in her groceries?"
Brian: "I'm busy sewing pictures of dead babies onto my new denim jacket." (How does he get all of these clothes? Where the fuck does his money come from? Does he have a job selling crack that I don't know about?) (ETA: Thrift shops for pennies. I might have known. From all the holes, I mean.)
Me: "So you're not doing anything important, then?"
Brian: "DEAD BABIES ARE OF PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE."
Me: (to Grandma Debbie) "He's not here. I think he, um, went for a walk."
Felt kind of bad about that, since she was probably lonely and just wanted to see her grandson, but on the other hand, I feel that subjecting Grandma Debbie to a surly, dead-baby-occupied Brian would not be a good move.
Read "THUD!" yesterday. PTerry seems like he's going over old ground, with the Watch. Using a lot of the same ideas and little philosophical asides. Then again, he's written nine or ten books about the Watch already, and there's only so much digging you can do before you hit bedrock and have to turn over the same ground...and he's covered a ton of ground with Sam Vimes and the Watch and the Law and such. Anyway, it's still pretty good, if not as remarkable as "Night Watch" was. (I loved "Night Watch.")
The thing that impressed me most was the introduction of the eponymous game and its little subculture, actually, the idea that there's thing that's been there all this time, that characters are obsessed with and live their lives around, and that's it's such a little part of this entire huge world that it's never been introduced before. Not because it didn't exist--it always did, we just didn't know about it, and there are a million other things like that, things the readers don't know about and never will, and the authors only vaguely do. That's part of what I love about the Discworld, how incredibly complex the world is, with all these little fiddly bits and ideas around the edges that don't have anything to do with the hero's quest or whatever. Makes it seem very, very analogous to the real world. Not everyone is interested in your Joseph Campbell Freudian journey to save the world. We have bread to bake, kids to raise, wood to chop, poems to write, kings to kill.
Wish he'd go into the same thing with the other characters, sometimes. No matter how much he writes about Angua or Carrot or Fred-and-Nobby, the Watch books are unashamedly Vimes-centric. I want more Carrot and Angua. I really like Angua. (Honestly, Carrot scared me a little in "Fifth Elephant." PTerry showed a little glimpse of something very weird under all that honesty, and then backed off and we never saw it again. Author's mistake, or is he holding back?)
Man, it's cold in here. I want a hamburger. Holy crap, and it's already getting dark. I just woke up three hours ago. I also need to get some more little paper jewelry boxes. I'm running out.
Jewelry is one of the few artistic things that I do that isn't primarily for other people. I make tons of earrings and necklackes that I'm never going to give to anyone else, or even wear out. I just enjoy the fact that I'm able to make something beautiful. Can't stand to part with what I make, though. And I do wish I could spend more money on beads so that I'd be able to use up some of the lovely things I have in my big, cluttered material boxes.
I really love it when people wear things I make. Same feeling I get when people like things I've written. It's like your mommy putting your drawings up on the refrigerator, except that they're so good she's actually decided to put them up in an expensive frame. When I was in high school and still had a painting class, I did this simple geometric painting that was meant to represent flamingos, as a present for my mom. She loved it (she loves flamingos), and put it up in a frame and sometimes shows it to people. (I did a similar painting for Dad, of colors he liked, and he threw it on the counter and then let painters drip white paint all over it, and then threw it out. Fucker.) It's a pretty cool painting, I think. The lines are all wobbly and the paint is lumpy, but if you can get past that, it's kind of nifty and art-deco and geometric.
Mom thinks that when I make enough earrings, we should get a booth at an art fair and sell some. She makes awesome necklaces. Not amateur stuff like the kind I make, but really professional-looking things that you would be perfectly justified charging $50 for.
Y'all will be happy to know that after a hiatus of not knowing what to write, I've started on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spacematchbook again. I think it's going well. I've decided that Calvin looks like a cross between actual Marty and Davie Bowie in "The Man Who Fell To Earth." Because, really, Michael J. Fox simply will not do for a mysterious alien boy. I still think he looks like a twelve-year-old girl. Twelve-year-old girls...OK, they're aliens. But they don't look like aliens, and that's the important part. Oh, and I've also got the whole "silly alien gets something wrong about simple Earth rituals" bit, because I think you are required by law to have one of those scenes in any "alien pretending to be a human" story.
Also, Mom said something interesting. See, I was trying to figure out how you'd describe my face (I was writing a Mary Sue-type-thing. I'm not planning to show it to anyone, but there are some things that you just have to get out of your system sometimes, no matter how much you think it's not a good idea), and I asked her. After much thought, she said, "Conflicted."
"Huh?" I said.
"You have a very mature, serious face surrounded by don't-take-me-seriously-hair," she explained.
I like that. I ended up going with "distinguished, despite her youth," which is not quite as Sueish when you consider that I'm writing about myself at age 30, but I still really like that description.
Take 1 (one) of those little honey squeeze bottles which only has enough honey left to coat the walls, but not enough to actually drip out. Take off the cap and put some warm water into it. Shake well until all the honey has dissolved and there is foam. Squirt into a teacup. Add some lemon juice, because the honey on its own is way too sweet and tastes odd. Microwave frequently, as cold honey lemon does your bronchial passages no good.
Alternately, trudge through the slush and snow to get Taco Bell with your little brother, then put a ton of Fire sauce packets on your taco because otherwise you can't taste it. Your nose will start to run, draining all the excess mucous out of your sinuses. Then you will go "aargh" and wonder if the snow outside hasn't been too polluted with car fumes to stuff into your mouth.
Apparently my cousin Becca has a sore throat as well. Which is leading to all sorts of "OMG, strep? Bronchitis? What if she has throat cancer?" fluttering in the Grandma Debbie world. So since her normal chore-monkey is abed with scratchy larynx disease, Grandma Debbie called up to see if Brian was available to take in her groceries.
Me: "Uh, Brian, do you want to be picked up by Grandma Debbie so you can take in her groceries?"
Brian: "I'm busy sewing pictures of dead babies onto my new denim jacket." (How does he get all of these clothes? Where the fuck does his money come from? Does he have a job selling crack that I don't know about?) (ETA: Thrift shops for pennies. I might have known. From all the holes, I mean.)
Me: "So you're not doing anything important, then?"
Brian: "DEAD BABIES ARE OF PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE."
Me: (to Grandma Debbie) "He's not here. I think he, um, went for a walk."
Felt kind of bad about that, since she was probably lonely and just wanted to see her grandson, but on the other hand, I feel that subjecting Grandma Debbie to a surly, dead-baby-occupied Brian would not be a good move.
Read "THUD!" yesterday. PTerry seems like he's going over old ground, with the Watch. Using a lot of the same ideas and little philosophical asides. Then again, he's written nine or ten books about the Watch already, and there's only so much digging you can do before you hit bedrock and have to turn over the same ground...and he's covered a ton of ground with Sam Vimes and the Watch and the Law and such. Anyway, it's still pretty good, if not as remarkable as "Night Watch" was. (I loved "Night Watch.")
The thing that impressed me most was the introduction of the eponymous game and its little subculture, actually, the idea that there's thing that's been there all this time, that characters are obsessed with and live their lives around, and that's it's such a little part of this entire huge world that it's never been introduced before. Not because it didn't exist--it always did, we just didn't know about it, and there are a million other things like that, things the readers don't know about and never will, and the authors only vaguely do. That's part of what I love about the Discworld, how incredibly complex the world is, with all these little fiddly bits and ideas around the edges that don't have anything to do with the hero's quest or whatever. Makes it seem very, very analogous to the real world. Not everyone is interested in your Joseph Campbell Freudian journey to save the world. We have bread to bake, kids to raise, wood to chop, poems to write, kings to kill.
Wish he'd go into the same thing with the other characters, sometimes. No matter how much he writes about Angua or Carrot or Fred-and-Nobby, the Watch books are unashamedly Vimes-centric. I want more Carrot and Angua. I really like Angua. (Honestly, Carrot scared me a little in "Fifth Elephant." PTerry showed a little glimpse of something very weird under all that honesty, and then backed off and we never saw it again. Author's mistake, or is he holding back?)
Man, it's cold in here. I want a hamburger. Holy crap, and it's already getting dark. I just woke up three hours ago. I also need to get some more little paper jewelry boxes. I'm running out.
Jewelry is one of the few artistic things that I do that isn't primarily for other people. I make tons of earrings and necklackes that I'm never going to give to anyone else, or even wear out. I just enjoy the fact that I'm able to make something beautiful. Can't stand to part with what I make, though. And I do wish I could spend more money on beads so that I'd be able to use up some of the lovely things I have in my big, cluttered material boxes.
I really love it when people wear things I make. Same feeling I get when people like things I've written. It's like your mommy putting your drawings up on the refrigerator, except that they're so good she's actually decided to put them up in an expensive frame. When I was in high school and still had a painting class, I did this simple geometric painting that was meant to represent flamingos, as a present for my mom. She loved it (she loves flamingos), and put it up in a frame and sometimes shows it to people. (I did a similar painting for Dad, of colors he liked, and he threw it on the counter and then let painters drip white paint all over it, and then threw it out. Fucker.) It's a pretty cool painting, I think. The lines are all wobbly and the paint is lumpy, but if you can get past that, it's kind of nifty and art-deco and geometric.
Mom thinks that when I make enough earrings, we should get a booth at an art fair and sell some. She makes awesome necklaces. Not amateur stuff like the kind I make, but really professional-looking things that you would be perfectly justified charging $50 for.
Y'all will be happy to know that after a hiatus of not knowing what to write, I've started on
spacematchbook again. I think it's going well. I've decided that Calvin looks like a cross between actual Marty and Davie Bowie in "The Man Who Fell To Earth." Because, really, Michael J. Fox simply will not do for a mysterious alien boy. I still think he looks like a twelve-year-old girl. Twelve-year-old girls...OK, they're aliens. But they don't look like aliens, and that's the important part. Oh, and I've also got the whole "silly alien gets something wrong about simple Earth rituals" bit, because I think you are required by law to have one of those scenes in any "alien pretending to be a human" story. Also, Mom said something interesting. See, I was trying to figure out how you'd describe my face (I was writing a Mary Sue-type-thing. I'm not planning to show it to anyone, but there are some things that you just have to get out of your system sometimes, no matter how much you think it's not a good idea), and I asked her. After much thought, she said, "Conflicted."
"Huh?" I said.
"You have a very mature, serious face surrounded by don't-take-me-seriously-hair," she explained.
I like that. I ended up going with "distinguished, despite her youth," which is not quite as Sueish when you consider that I'm writing about myself at age 30, but I still really like that description.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
I love...
Date: 2005-12-31 12:08 am (UTC)I miss you. I can't wait till you head back to your dad's for a bit...or wherever you can get online and on IM. I haven't written hardly a thing. My stomach's been giving me fits this week. Food poisoning, I think. And I've been writing birthdays into all our new calendars. We got tons from Jeff's mom. Now I can finish some other things, including writing down info about two decks I have to work with.
Re: I love...
Date: 2005-12-31 05:27 am (UTC)This makes me really, really happy.
I miss you too. I hope your stomach gets better...eat mint, I think that is supposed to settle the stomach. :pets you: I'm going to be at Dad's probably after the New Year's. :kisses:
Re: I love...
Date: 2005-12-31 05:46 am (UTC)Definitely looking forward to the new year. More money, a new year, more fresh starts. All sorts of fun-ness. And three weddings. Did I mention that I'm performing three weddings (so far) this next year???
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 12:39 am (UTC)What's the song like? I feel like it's a puzzle to solve now!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 05:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 04:28 pm (UTC)Hehehe, I love that one. It makes me want dance. : )
And, yeah, the titles are pretty simple; going by the choruses is a good way to do that.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-02 05:11 pm (UTC)Also "Shadow Stabbing."
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 02:16 am (UTC)"[D]istinguished, despite her youth" admittedly still sounds pretty Mary Sueish to me, but not as much so as, say, "pale, delicate skin and almond-shaped cerulean eyes."
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 05:30 am (UTC)I do not see how skin can be delicate. It's not like fine china. If you drop it, it will not break. Stretchy, maybe, although "pale, stretchy skin" doesn't sound nearly as pretty.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-02 05:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 08:35 pm (UTC)Also, I wanted to let you know.... I finally saw Re-Animator.... as I got it for Christmas.... and I loved it so much I can't even put it into words. Don't know why I waited a whole year to watch it. I couldn't help being influenced by you and going into paroxysms of "Daddy, I want a Herbert West. Get me a Herbert West. I want one."
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 09:38 pm (UTC):D I'm glad you liked Re-A. Best zombie movie EVER. That Jeff Combs... :salivates: You are going to write some nifty poems or stories now, right?
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-01 02:56 pm (UTC)