Your mother is a fish!
Apr. 1st, 2007 11:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kleenexwomanIt's been a year since I have posted a piece of actual, finished, prose fanfiction, and even longer since I last finished any original fiction. How time doth fly. I should probably get on that whole "writing" thing pretty soon. Maybe warm up with something fluffy and pointless and stupid.
I'm supposed to tell you to comment with "I am a shameless attention whore" and then I will ask you five questions. You can do this. Or you can ask me five more questions, because I am the same. And I'll ask you five questions in turn anyway.
Questions from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
foxywriter:
1) What has been your most embarassing fandom? Why?
Harry Potter. Not in that it's embarassing to admit--everyone and their dog was into Harry Potter at some point--but that fandom is where I wrote my stupidest slashes, my trashiest Mary Sues, and my dumbest parodies. I keep them up to remind me of my folly, as a memento that I, too, used to suck at fanfic and not care.
2) What three dead celebrities would youkill die like to have dinner with and why? What would you discuss or eat or do?
Philip K. Dick, T.S. Eliot, and Joseph Campbell. Restaurant: The Chinese buffet down the street, then adjourning later to my apartment for coffee and ice cream. The official topic for the evening would be the nature of human perception and how we create narratives to explain the world, but it would get off-topic quickly. Phil and T.S. would probably start whining about their wives, and Joseph would tell them that they're pussies. Then maybe an interesting discussion would come out of that.
3) Name one good thing about your hometown and one thing you loathe, and why.
Farmington Hills has an astounding array of good restaurants. Within a five-mile radius of my house, there are three Chinese places, four Indian places, two Thai places, a gourmet pizza place, two Greek places (not counting the five Coney Islands, which are greasy spoons that happen to have tsisiki sauce), three Middle Eastern places (two of which are run by a guy who was funneling money to terrorist groups, so my family is pretty much boycotting them), two gourmet burger joints, two good sushi places, more Jewish delis than you can shake a yad at, and a gourmet bakery which sells exquisite little chocolate mouse puffs for fifty cents each. The only thing we're missing in the immediate area is a decent sit-down Mexican restaurant, but there are plenty a little further away, and there's always the upscale fast-food places like Qdoba and Chipotle (and there's also always the chance that I just have not found one).
The bad: Inadequate public transportation. This is because Detroit is the Motor City and everyone is supposed to drive, so the public transportation system in the Metro area never really came into its own. I mostly bike.
4) If you had an evening with *wink, nudge* Crispin Glover and somehow wound up pregnant, would you have his love child? What would you name it (boy and girl) if so?
I would have a litter of intelligent, socially awkward Crispin-babies and raise them in soft nests and carry them on my back when I went to forage for food. Because I am apparently part opossum.
Realistically (not that anything is realistic about this scenario), probably not. I don't feel equipped to raise children, and I have never particularly wanted to--I wouldn't be able to just let Crispin have it, because he's said in interviews that he doesn't want to raise kids either. If this hypothetical night happened at a point in my life where I had the desire to raise children, and the emotional and financial means to do so (and my partner or partners also wanted kids), then maybe; if I ever was going to have a child, Crispin would be an excellent choice for a genetic donation. (If he has not got himself snipped by now, that is.)
As for names, Anton or Anthony for a boy, and Grendel or Grendella for a girl.
5) What is your worst bad habit and why?
I am composed entirely of bad habits.
I was going to say "masturbation," but that's not really a bad habit, despite centuries of propaganda to the contrary. It feels great, burns calories, and releases endorphins. And my eyes are just fine and my palms are smooth, thankyouverymuch.
The worst bad habit I have is probably smoking. I've given up actual cigarettes, for the most part, but this is a college town...It is good for calming oneself down when not much else works, but overindulgence is not good for your brain, your lungs, your figure (munchies), or your chances of employment at many places. Luckily, it is the one nasty habit I can live without and am not going to continue into my adult life. The others (drinking, picking at myself, procrastination, caffeine use, being a slob, spending hours on the Internet, taking up to three showers a day, overeating, and pretty much everything else I do) are going to stay with me for the rest of my life, and I'm pretty okay with that.
Questions fromsmudge_pot:
1. How did you first get into BTTF?
About a month before I went to college, my little brother brought home some video tapes from a yard sale--Pulp Fiction and all 3 BttF movies. We sat down and watched the first two that night, and I thought it was goofy and not the best depiction of time travel I'd ever seen, but curiously addicting. I stayed in the fandom throughdrworm and ghostgecko's stories and friendship; if they hadn't written anything, it would have been a very short-lived obsession.
2. How do you get inspiration for your stories?
Mostly through an urge to be contrary.
Some of them come from songs or dreams or challenges or just randomized mulling. Some of them come from naughty fantasies that need plot justification (and some never get justification at all).
3. What's your favourite poem ever and why?
Oooooh, hard to say. I can't even pick a favorite poet. Yesterday it was Szymborska, today it's Marianne Moore...I think "Ave Maria" by Frank O'Hara is the front-runner for Poem of the Moment, because I haven't been so immediately delighted and amused by any poem for a long time. I used to really like Invictus when I was in high school, but not so much now.
The poem that's stuck with me most is probably Casey at the Bat by Ernest L. Thayer. For a long time when I was young, my dad (baseball nut), would read it to me every night, and I got so's I could recite the whole thing from memory. I have some poems from that time I wrote that are sports epics told in iambic heptameter in imitation.
4. What did you dream about last night?
I was in a parking garage, surrounded by zombies who'd once been classmates. Their eyes were blank and their clothes were torn. I pushed through to a classroom, where more students were slowly becoming zombies; their eyes were glazing over, and every once in a while one would snap out of it and look around, but then fall back into a stupor.
I hid in a supply closet and watched. Eventually, a hideous reptilian creature walked into the classroom and began to hypnotize the rest of the students. It was dressed in a flowered dress and had a grey wig on, but that was all the effort to disguise itself it had made.
I leapt out and began to jab at it with a stick. Its skin tore easily, but it just laughed at me. "You think you can stop me?" The more I jabbed at it, the less it seemed to care. Eventually, when it was little but a mass of torn green skin and red flesh, it unfolded into a hideous lizard-flower and ate me.
I woke up in a quiet panic.
5. Are you planning any April Fool's jokes?
No. And I'll tell you why:
1) It has lost all archetypical value. The concept of carnivale has degenerated into fake poo and banana peels. We have eaten all the April Fish. Either our society is so repressed that the idea of counterculture becoming culture isn't even allowed on the day assigned to it, or we've become so relaxed that you can do it any day you please. Either way, it's lost its specialness.
2) People expect it. "Time to play jokes! It's April Fool's! Everybody knows it!" So you're on the lookout for jokes and tense all day and fooled by nobody. Far better to play jokes on days people don't expect it.
3) I haven't the heart. I just had a very beloved guest leave, and I feel lonely. I mostly want to sulk or cuddle with the cats, not frolic and laugh at the gullibility of other people.
4) I suck at it. I am transparent and my jokes are not good.
I'm supposed to tell you to comment with "I am a shameless attention whore" and then I will ask you five questions. You can do this. Or you can ask me five more questions, because I am the same. And I'll ask you five questions in turn anyway.
Questions from
foxywriter: 1) What has been your most embarassing fandom? Why?
Harry Potter. Not in that it's embarassing to admit--everyone and their dog was into Harry Potter at some point--but that fandom is where I wrote my stupidest slashes, my trashiest Mary Sues, and my dumbest parodies. I keep them up to remind me of my folly, as a memento that I, too, used to suck at fanfic and not care.
2) What three dead celebrities would you
Philip K. Dick, T.S. Eliot, and Joseph Campbell. Restaurant: The Chinese buffet down the street, then adjourning later to my apartment for coffee and ice cream. The official topic for the evening would be the nature of human perception and how we create narratives to explain the world, but it would get off-topic quickly. Phil and T.S. would probably start whining about their wives, and Joseph would tell them that they're pussies. Then maybe an interesting discussion would come out of that.
3) Name one good thing about your hometown and one thing you loathe, and why.
Farmington Hills has an astounding array of good restaurants. Within a five-mile radius of my house, there are three Chinese places, four Indian places, two Thai places, a gourmet pizza place, two Greek places (not counting the five Coney Islands, which are greasy spoons that happen to have tsisiki sauce), three Middle Eastern places (two of which are run by a guy who was funneling money to terrorist groups, so my family is pretty much boycotting them), two gourmet burger joints, two good sushi places, more Jewish delis than you can shake a yad at, and a gourmet bakery which sells exquisite little chocolate mouse puffs for fifty cents each. The only thing we're missing in the immediate area is a decent sit-down Mexican restaurant, but there are plenty a little further away, and there's always the upscale fast-food places like Qdoba and Chipotle (and there's also always the chance that I just have not found one).
The bad: Inadequate public transportation. This is because Detroit is the Motor City and everyone is supposed to drive, so the public transportation system in the Metro area never really came into its own. I mostly bike.
4) If you had an evening with *wink, nudge* Crispin Glover and somehow wound up pregnant, would you have his love child? What would you name it (boy and girl) if so?
I would have a litter of intelligent, socially awkward Crispin-babies and raise them in soft nests and carry them on my back when I went to forage for food. Because I am apparently part opossum.
Realistically (not that anything is realistic about this scenario), probably not. I don't feel equipped to raise children, and I have never particularly wanted to--I wouldn't be able to just let Crispin have it, because he's said in interviews that he doesn't want to raise kids either. If this hypothetical night happened at a point in my life where I had the desire to raise children, and the emotional and financial means to do so (and my partner or partners also wanted kids), then maybe; if I ever was going to have a child, Crispin would be an excellent choice for a genetic donation. (If he has not got himself snipped by now, that is.)
As for names, Anton or Anthony for a boy, and Grendel or Grendella for a girl.
5) What is your worst bad habit and why?
I am composed entirely of bad habits.
I was going to say "masturbation," but that's not really a bad habit, despite centuries of propaganda to the contrary. It feels great, burns calories, and releases endorphins. And my eyes are just fine and my palms are smooth, thankyouverymuch.
The worst bad habit I have is probably smoking. I've given up actual cigarettes, for the most part, but this is a college town...It is good for calming oneself down when not much else works, but overindulgence is not good for your brain, your lungs, your figure (munchies), or your chances of employment at many places. Luckily, it is the one nasty habit I can live without and am not going to continue into my adult life. The others (drinking, picking at myself, procrastination, caffeine use, being a slob, spending hours on the Internet, taking up to three showers a day, overeating, and pretty much everything else I do) are going to stay with me for the rest of my life, and I'm pretty okay with that.
Questions from
smudge_pot: 1. How did you first get into BTTF?
About a month before I went to college, my little brother brought home some video tapes from a yard sale--Pulp Fiction and all 3 BttF movies. We sat down and watched the first two that night, and I thought it was goofy and not the best depiction of time travel I'd ever seen, but curiously addicting. I stayed in the fandom through
drworm and ghostgecko's stories and friendship; if they hadn't written anything, it would have been a very short-lived obsession. 2. How do you get inspiration for your stories?
Mostly through an urge to be contrary.
Some of them come from songs or dreams or challenges or just randomized mulling. Some of them come from naughty fantasies that need plot justification (and some never get justification at all).
3. What's your favourite poem ever and why?
Oooooh, hard to say. I can't even pick a favorite poet. Yesterday it was Szymborska, today it's Marianne Moore...I think "Ave Maria" by Frank O'Hara is the front-runner for Poem of the Moment, because I haven't been so immediately delighted and amused by any poem for a long time. I used to really like Invictus when I was in high school, but not so much now.
The poem that's stuck with me most is probably Casey at the Bat by Ernest L. Thayer. For a long time when I was young, my dad (baseball nut), would read it to me every night, and I got so's I could recite the whole thing from memory. I have some poems from that time I wrote that are sports epics told in iambic heptameter in imitation.
4. What did you dream about last night?
I was in a parking garage, surrounded by zombies who'd once been classmates. Their eyes were blank and their clothes were torn. I pushed through to a classroom, where more students were slowly becoming zombies; their eyes were glazing over, and every once in a while one would snap out of it and look around, but then fall back into a stupor.
I hid in a supply closet and watched. Eventually, a hideous reptilian creature walked into the classroom and began to hypnotize the rest of the students. It was dressed in a flowered dress and had a grey wig on, but that was all the effort to disguise itself it had made.
I leapt out and began to jab at it with a stick. Its skin tore easily, but it just laughed at me. "You think you can stop me?" The more I jabbed at it, the less it seemed to care. Eventually, when it was little but a mass of torn green skin and red flesh, it unfolded into a hideous lizard-flower and ate me.
I woke up in a quiet panic.
5. Are you planning any April Fool's jokes?
No. And I'll tell you why:
1) It has lost all archetypical value. The concept of carnivale has degenerated into fake poo and banana peels. We have eaten all the April Fish. Either our society is so repressed that the idea of counterculture becoming culture isn't even allowed on the day assigned to it, or we've become so relaxed that you can do it any day you please. Either way, it's lost its specialness.
2) People expect it. "Time to play jokes! It's April Fool's! Everybody knows it!" So you're on the lookout for jokes and tense all day and fooled by nobody. Far better to play jokes on days people don't expect it.
3) I haven't the heart. I just had a very beloved guest leave, and I feel lonely. I mostly want to sulk or cuddle with the cats, not frolic and laugh at the gullibility of other people.
4) I suck at it. I am transparent and my jokes are not good.
