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I've Heard Loons, They Do Sound Psychotic
Nov. 10th, 2006 01:45 pmThings that have made me laugh like crazy this week:
a) My writer's group is a collection of nascent fans (so nascent they don't even realize they are exhibiting fannish behavior), and amongst the activities that have suggested are a series of conversations/encounters between different characters from our NIPs. The conversation theme invariable led to the getting it on and smackdown varieties of interaction:) I'm sort of in love with this group, with the idea of our imaginary people out there, having imaginary fic written for them when their own homes aren't even completed yet:)
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crankygrrl telling me I was a star, and praising my ability to completely make shit up. A fact that startles and astonishes my writer's group, to which I want to say, "OMG, you have no idea."
c) My cat, who attached himself to the ottoman that is currently bearing the keyboard (musical kind) that our neighbor gave us and then spun around on his back pushing the whole contraption in a circle like some sort of freakish red and pianoed dervish until I yelled at him to back the fuck away from the ottoman.
d) Sake
e) Theraflu - because I'm either sick again, or am having a major allergy attack, but it dries me up so badly that I file like Mulder and Scully from that awful ep on the boat when all the hydration leaked out of them and they aged a zillion years. I had a dream about that the other night and it was terrible!
f) My mother - who believes utterly in my talent and my ability to sell a novel - and came up with an ill advised if kind and lovely plan for my vehicle ownership prospects with the caveat that I sell my novel since she was going to stop contributing to her 401k in order to pay for me to have a new car and then said I would be obligated to take care of her in her dotage as payback. I do not think it is a good idea to let her do this, but better than the one my father suggested which would have him using the money his wife takes out of his account to pay a caretaker a few hours a week so she can escape the house and not KILL HIM.
My parents, I love them in all their generous insanity. So my options are to move my mother in with me in her ailing years, or let me stepmother go to jail? I think I'll investigate how sucktastic my life would be if I were reliant on the bus instead.
g) On the upside, two of the tutoring agencies I contacted are frothing at the bit to interview me and lay me up as an offering to the gods of teenagers again, so that's a good sign. If by good you mean never having a life, but hell, I wasn't doing much with this one anyway. Should I get more work as a tutor, then neither of my parent's crazy schemes will have to be put into effect.
I have come to terms with the insanity of needing to put $700 of repair into the Plastighettocar in order to make it pass the smog test. It is absurd, and I need to settle the issue with the DMV and get a second opinion. And maybe cry a little more.
h) I don't think I'll be watching BSG until I'm in a better frame of mind. It is still far too bleak, far too... cutting and I can't root for anyone right now, so I'll return to it when I'm happier.
i) At some point, I'd like to talk about "The Prestige" which I both saw and read this weekend. I know there were posts about it, but I don't even know where to start. I thought there were some fantastic questions of identity and self and perception and sacrifice and vanity and men that arose in the movie and would love to discuss them. ( Semi-spoilers ) I liked the book very much, but the ending just... was such a let down. Sigh.
g) I am still reading the new Kate Atkinson (I've been parceling it out between other books) and I just... I love the fresh, round urgency of her writing, the way it rushes and dawdles and draws all at the same time and want to smack the LA Times reviewer who was condescending about her having written another mystery, like it's some lesser substance than a straight literary novel. I've complained about this attitude before, but how can someone read Atkinson and use the word "just" to describe it, no matter the format?
a) My writer's group is a collection of nascent fans (so nascent they don't even realize they are exhibiting fannish behavior), and amongst the activities that have suggested are a series of conversations/encounters between different characters from our NIPs. The conversation theme invariable led to the getting it on and smackdown varieties of interaction:) I'm sort of in love with this group, with the idea of our imaginary people out there, having imaginary fic written for them when their own homes aren't even completed yet:)
b)
crankygrrl telling me I was a star, and praising my ability to completely make shit up. A fact that startles and astonishes my writer's group, to which I want to say, "OMG, you have no idea."c) My cat, who attached himself to the ottoman that is currently bearing the keyboard (musical kind) that our neighbor gave us and then spun around on his back pushing the whole contraption in a circle like some sort of freakish red and pianoed dervish until I yelled at him to back the fuck away from the ottoman.
d) Sake
e) Theraflu - because I'm either sick again, or am having a major allergy attack, but it dries me up so badly that I file like Mulder and Scully from that awful ep on the boat when all the hydration leaked out of them and they aged a zillion years. I had a dream about that the other night and it was terrible!
f) My mother - who believes utterly in my talent and my ability to sell a novel - and came up with an ill advised if kind and lovely plan for my vehicle ownership prospects with the caveat that I sell my novel since she was going to stop contributing to her 401k in order to pay for me to have a new car and then said I would be obligated to take care of her in her dotage as payback. I do not think it is a good idea to let her do this, but better than the one my father suggested which would have him using the money his wife takes out of his account to pay a caretaker a few hours a week so she can escape the house and not KILL HIM.
My parents, I love them in all their generous insanity. So my options are to move my mother in with me in her ailing years, or let me stepmother go to jail? I think I'll investigate how sucktastic my life would be if I were reliant on the bus instead.
g) On the upside, two of the tutoring agencies I contacted are frothing at the bit to interview me and lay me up as an offering to the gods of teenagers again, so that's a good sign. If by good you mean never having a life, but hell, I wasn't doing much with this one anyway. Should I get more work as a tutor, then neither of my parent's crazy schemes will have to be put into effect.
I have come to terms with the insanity of needing to put $700 of repair into the Plastighettocar in order to make it pass the smog test. It is absurd, and I need to settle the issue with the DMV and get a second opinion. And maybe cry a little more.
h) I don't think I'll be watching BSG until I'm in a better frame of mind. It is still far too bleak, far too... cutting and I can't root for anyone right now, so I'll return to it when I'm happier.
i) At some point, I'd like to talk about "The Prestige" which I both saw and read this weekend. I know there were posts about it, but I don't even know where to start. I thought there were some fantastic questions of identity and self and perception and sacrifice and vanity and men that arose in the movie and would love to discuss them. ( Semi-spoilers ) I liked the book very much, but the ending just... was such a let down. Sigh.
g) I am still reading the new Kate Atkinson (I've been parceling it out between other books) and I just... I love the fresh, round urgency of her writing, the way it rushes and dawdles and draws all at the same time and want to smack the LA Times reviewer who was condescending about her having written another mystery, like it's some lesser substance than a straight literary novel. I've complained about this attitude before, but how can someone read Atkinson and use the word "just" to describe it, no matter the format?
