Losing Time

So my marathon Latin student is done, thank god. Poor girl, she got ultra burntout as did I, but it was some extra cash and I got a great pen out of the deal as a gift so yeah.

Writing class continues to be great, despite a somewhat difficult student who can't take crit from the teacher. There's always one, you know. One of the students told me that my stuff seems to really be cooking, that he feels like it's the most "together" in the class. I laughed and laughed. I've got more... confidence in my story and my world, I think, more confidence in my sense of storytelling and my sense of self, but they've seen five random pages total and not the mess of exposition that is certain sections so I just took the compliment and treasured it and didn't let it go to my head where it would promptly be smacked down by reality. It's a good group with a critical eye and a wealth of support. I hope we continue to work together once the class is over.

Monday night was sort of fabulous and unexpected. I went to see CSNY at the Bowl (thanks to wearemany!!!!! Sometimes it helps to be both the product of hippies and a single unit of measurement:) They were... well, I love Neil Young, and he always, always makes me think of my dad, and so much of my childhood was surrounded by this music, both Neil Young on his own and CSNY in general and it was a fabulous concert, full of politics and raging at war and oppression and unfairness and yeah, I get the dichotomy because they're "rock" stars, but dude, they're also a bunch of old pot smoking hippies who believe in what they're preaching and they do it with flair and conviction and hot licks and I pretty much love them. So much love. I also think that Neil probably keeps everyone up all night on the bus because that man has waaaay too much energy. I did not cry during "Only Love Can Break Your Heart" and was quite proud of myself, but I may have scraped up my vocal chords screaming during "Rockin' in the Free World." But it was a worthy cause.

On a fannish, well, fannishly tangential note, I finally now know what a camshaft is, and dude, there's just no way to politely say to your ME, "No, really, it's not funny. Well, it is, but no I'm not really giggling at this ad. Really!!!" Ah fandom. Ah SG-1, ruining me for interaction with real people.

Annoyance, Gratitude and My City

First of all, I'd like to give a gigantic thank you and we shall light candles at your shrine to shrift. A few weeks ago, Leviathan got hacked and Shrift has worked tirelessly to fix everything. This was no small undertaking, and I'm pretty sure, she's gotta tackle the other archives as well. A few stories were unrecoverable, but in the midst of all the stories that the archive holds, that's pretty amazing. shrift you are so owed beer, cabana boys and porn!

Unfortunately, "Blue Eyes" was one of the stories that didn't survive. Bangs head on desk. Mostly, the damned thing is just so long that it's daunting to think of uploading it again (because I'm such a moron and I always get things wrong and now I've got a chance to do yet another edit and try to get the coding right, and I think I should probably take advantage of the opportunity.) But still, I'd so like to kick the ass of whoever had so much time on their hands they decided to hack a bunch of archives. People are morons.

So, if you've got stories up at Leviathan, go thank Shrift. If you ever go to Leviathan, go thank Shrift!

On entirely unrelated note, someone on cofax7's flist was looking for good non-fiction on Los Angeles and while I think there probably is some, it mostly made me think of how I look at and think of and exist in my city.( My Los Angeles )