THE THING I LOVE MOST ABOUT LINKIN PARK is, whatever bad mood I'm in, they've got a song that fits it perfectly.
Carter will always be Evanescence. Lucien will always be an odd mixture of Godsmack, Enya, and Metallica. Ren is Eve 6. Rhys is Ozzy. Neen and Jude dance to the sound of rain on the roof in the springtime, during tornado season. Sarah dances alone to Mandy Moore in her apartment when she thinks her muse Rhys isn't paying attention. Joey, in all his punkness, is Sarah McLachlan in many ways. Parker is a little Bon Jovi, a little 3 Doors Down, a little Stargate music thrown in for good measure, with a dose of 'huh?' because Parker, he doesn't listen to music.
But they all, at one point or another, turn on the Linkin Park to yell, and scream, or just shout at the world HEY I'M HERE, pay attention, because I've got a story you wouldn't fucking believe.
I've been rereading things lately, that I wrote once upon a time before there was Ren defined, before Aspen met the Voice, back when Kiel was something else entirely and it was just me pacing the room, with the Evanescence on instant replay and the Starman in the other room probably wondering if I was going insane or acutually doing something productive for once.
Lucien strolling into that biker bar looking for a fight, with Joey and Parker tagging along to interrogate him about Ellie.
Neen in the tornado, with the big blue question mark dude. God I love that opening scene.
Carter's history. I'd forgotten it was documented, but I found it on the laptop. So bad do I want to post that, not that anyone cares, but it's still steeped too closely in Arthurian legend, need to rework it, and I love that Carter is this big mystery, for now. Explain where he comes from, and it takes away some of the why Joey et al think he's such a creepy dude. Well, maybe it does.
Jordan and Seph in Underworld, such a heady lusty rush I had to put it down and go wait, was this ME writing this? Oh, wait, yeah, then had to set it down again before I got lost in THAT tangent again.
Blackheart at the plaza, with Suz in the window. Another great one, that I wish like hell I could figure out where to go with it. Aaron, if you're listening, have your people call my people; we need to do lunch and map out a plan. Maybe Sunday, maybe Monday, maybe not...
None of this is making any sense to anyone, I know. Why? Because I keep most of it locked in my head or on my laptop. Safer that way. What do you say in thirty seconds or less to capture someone's interest when they casually ask, "Ren who?" or catch me speaking Jack&Ryan.
Somedays, I just want to shout to the world, HEY YOU STUPID FUCKS! I've got this amazing fucking world in my head if anyone cares! So many characters, so much that's going to happen, so much insane, complicated, CJ craziness. And the way it all slowly builds off of each other, coming together towards the big finish that I can sort of see...
God I fucking LOVE writing. Even when it's just me and Joey sitting on the couch reading what I wrote, wondering what we did wrong, I love it.
Someday, I'm going to find out why Blackheart's company fired Suz, what happens when everyone figures out whose son Kyle Murdock REALLY is, and wether or not Aden Andrews is going to come back from the dead. Maybe Neen's blue dude will always remain a mystery, but Kennie's going over the list of possibilities with Ren on the phone as we speak. No, not THAT Kennie and not THAT Ren. I'm talking about the real ones, the ones who came first and live in the world that maybe only I understand.
In the mean time, I stumble off to bed.
Shakespeare said it best :
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music
And so, I stumble off to bed to sleep, perchance to dream, taking with me the angry voices I love to sing and shout to:
I got a
Heart full of pain/head full of stress
Handful of anger/held in my chest
And everythings left is a waste of time
I hate my rhymes
(But hate everyone else's more)
I'm riding on the back of this pressure
Guessing that it's better
I can't keep myself together
Because all of this stress
Gave me something to write on
The pain gave me something
I could set my sights on
You never forget the blood, sweat, and tears
The uphill struggle over the years
The fear and trash talking
And the peopleit was to
And the people that started it
Just like you
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Saturday, October 30, 2004
where the crypt doors creak and the tombstones quake
Happy Halloween, dudes.
I'm stuck in a city that doesn't seem to appreciate it.
Then, maybe for me, Halloween will always be the old house on Surrey with the gang. Susan, Kris and I going all the way from Bridgetown Road to Lawrence, or trying to. Stopping down at LaRosas and the pony keg to see if they had any treats. Stopping at the Dairy Farmers for a free ice cream.
That guy on Childs who used to wear this white thing, and just chase people out of his yard without so much as a pencil. The people Angie and Brian knew, but I didn't, who passed out carmel corn homemade things, and I threw mine away because I was sure there was something nasty hidden in it.
Marcie and Marie, with thier bags of candy and dollars for all of us, even Susan and Kris, who they saw maybe once every Halloween.
The people who used to decorate their whole house for halloween. One time the woman there read my palm. She made all these noises about how wierd it was. At the time I was all embarrased. Why couldn't she have just said, "You're very creative and should be a writer".
Those people on Karen. One of them worked for Kahns. Every year, and I mean EVERY YEAR without fail, even after I was grown up and moved away. Every year they brought out this big ass grill and grilled hot dogs for the whole neighborhood. Free. For Halloween. With Coffee for the parents, too.
Good god, I miss that. One of my favorite memories- walking around on Halloween night. Susan and Kris and I got back first, no matter what. Hours later Kraig and Steve would come back with huge pillowcases full of stuff, and we never figured out how they managed to get so much candy.
I've always liked walking at night. You don't have to tell me it's not safe anymore, I know. There's something so magickal about Halloween at night though. I just love it.
It's not the same here, though. Almost like it's not really Halloween at all, if we're not at my old house, in the old neighborhood, with the old friends.
Things change, and some memories you can never get back. But I'll never forget the first time I saw Nightmare on Elm Street. It was another Halloween night. After we got back to the house and us kids were in the den, watching horror movies on TV. The moms and Grandmas were in the living room, talking. Know the scene where she's on the phone, with the tounge? Susan screemed bloody murder to wake the dead. I think my grandma almost had a heart attack at that. After that we were told to turn the TV off. I still love horror movies though. Shocking, I know.
I was a witch more times than I can remember. Cinderella. A cowgirl. A gypsy. And yes, I was even Smurfette. My mother has all the blackmail pictures, so don't look at me.
My favorite of course was Wonder Woman. I had my own WW bracelets. The costume was plastic and came in one of those boxes. Those plastic costumes in the box were the fucking SHIT. And another thing about being WW? It was ass freezing cold that year, kids. And mom made me wear my winter coat.
Wonder Woman doesn't do the whole Coat thing, though. So 'Wonder Woman' was allowed to wear her coat UNDER the costume. The plastic costume with flesh toned legs and arms, since all WW wears is a bathing suit. And if that's not screwy, I dunno what is.
I spend a lot of time dwelling on nostalgia, and memories, and moments in time that are lost forever, that I'll never get back. Every so often, it makes me a little sad. When I'm gone, who will remember those hot dogs on Karen, or the feeling of Halloween night back when it was actually held on Halloween, when people actually all passed out candy?
I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go
Walkin' with a dead man over my shoulder
Waiting for an invitation to arrive
Goin' to a party where no one's still alive
I was struck by lighting
Walkin' down the street
I was hit by something last night in my sleep
It's a dead man's party
Who could ask for more
Everybody's comin', leave your body at the door
Leave your body and soul at the door . . .
(don't run away it's only me)
All dressed up with nowhere to go
Walkin' with a dead man
Waitin' for an invitation to arrive
With a dead man . . . dead man . . .
Got my best suit and my tie
Shiny silver dollar on either eye
I hear the chauffeur comin' to the door
Says there's room for maybe just one more . . .
Don't run away it's only me
Don't be afraid of what you can't see
Don't run away it's only me . .
I'm stuck in a city that doesn't seem to appreciate it.
Then, maybe for me, Halloween will always be the old house on Surrey with the gang. Susan, Kris and I going all the way from Bridgetown Road to Lawrence, or trying to. Stopping down at LaRosas and the pony keg to see if they had any treats. Stopping at the Dairy Farmers for a free ice cream.
That guy on Childs who used to wear this white thing, and just chase people out of his yard without so much as a pencil. The people Angie and Brian knew, but I didn't, who passed out carmel corn homemade things, and I threw mine away because I was sure there was something nasty hidden in it.
Marcie and Marie, with thier bags of candy and dollars for all of us, even Susan and Kris, who they saw maybe once every Halloween.
The people who used to decorate their whole house for halloween. One time the woman there read my palm. She made all these noises about how wierd it was. At the time I was all embarrased. Why couldn't she have just said, "You're very creative and should be a writer".
Those people on Karen. One of them worked for Kahns. Every year, and I mean EVERY YEAR without fail, even after I was grown up and moved away. Every year they brought out this big ass grill and grilled hot dogs for the whole neighborhood. Free. For Halloween. With Coffee for the parents, too.
Good god, I miss that. One of my favorite memories- walking around on Halloween night. Susan and Kris and I got back first, no matter what. Hours later Kraig and Steve would come back with huge pillowcases full of stuff, and we never figured out how they managed to get so much candy.
I've always liked walking at night. You don't have to tell me it's not safe anymore, I know. There's something so magickal about Halloween at night though. I just love it.
It's not the same here, though. Almost like it's not really Halloween at all, if we're not at my old house, in the old neighborhood, with the old friends.
Things change, and some memories you can never get back. But I'll never forget the first time I saw Nightmare on Elm Street. It was another Halloween night. After we got back to the house and us kids were in the den, watching horror movies on TV. The moms and Grandmas were in the living room, talking. Know the scene where she's on the phone, with the tounge? Susan screemed bloody murder to wake the dead. I think my grandma almost had a heart attack at that. After that we were told to turn the TV off. I still love horror movies though. Shocking, I know.
I was a witch more times than I can remember. Cinderella. A cowgirl. A gypsy. And yes, I was even Smurfette. My mother has all the blackmail pictures, so don't look at me.
My favorite of course was Wonder Woman. I had my own WW bracelets. The costume was plastic and came in one of those boxes. Those plastic costumes in the box were the fucking SHIT. And another thing about being WW? It was ass freezing cold that year, kids. And mom made me wear my winter coat.
Wonder Woman doesn't do the whole Coat thing, though. So 'Wonder Woman' was allowed to wear her coat UNDER the costume. The plastic costume with flesh toned legs and arms, since all WW wears is a bathing suit. And if that's not screwy, I dunno what is.
I spend a lot of time dwelling on nostalgia, and memories, and moments in time that are lost forever, that I'll never get back. Every so often, it makes me a little sad. When I'm gone, who will remember those hot dogs on Karen, or the feeling of Halloween night back when it was actually held on Halloween, when people actually all passed out candy?
I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go
Walkin' with a dead man over my shoulder
Waiting for an invitation to arrive
Goin' to a party where no one's still alive
I was struck by lighting
Walkin' down the street
I was hit by something last night in my sleep
It's a dead man's party
Who could ask for more
Everybody's comin', leave your body at the door
Leave your body and soul at the door . . .
(don't run away it's only me)
All dressed up with nowhere to go
Walkin' with a dead man
Waitin' for an invitation to arrive
With a dead man . . . dead man . . .
Got my best suit and my tie
Shiny silver dollar on either eye
I hear the chauffeur comin' to the door
Says there's room for maybe just one more . . .
Don't run away it's only me
Don't be afraid of what you can't see
Don't run away it's only me . .
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Kiel, What the FUCK???// miami, part 2
Kiel, BABE. I know it's not your job to take care of everyone, but what is going ON up there??
I was all about the rooting for the underdog in the Series the second the Yanks lost. But I'm on vacation, and I haven't been paying attention to the outside world, not really. Only the voices in my head, and otherwise.
I come back from Bagel&Deli with dinner and a Frosty~ gotta have my chocolate fix, even up here where they think ice cream is Cold Stone Crap.... and turn on the TV in anticipation of watching hopefully Sunday's eppysode of the Wire.
For some shitty reason, this hotel TV always pulls up with the CNN when you turn it on.
People are rioting and KILLING each other over your baseball team, Kiel. What the FUCK is up with that?? I can hear Lucien in the background, right now, for once in his life acting like he gives a damn and is in charge, telling you to get on it.
Killing and rioting over BASEBALL. When did America's pastime become violent? I thought only Pete Rose was supposed to be in charge of that. BASEBALL. At least in Cincy, they riot over racial issues, which are a problem anyway.
BASEBALL. I don't care if the antichrist Cards DO play them in the series. I'm not rooting for Boston, T. Your fans there are a little too freaky, even for me.
Miami. I am loving this vacation. Sucks to be Sherrilyn Kenyon, who got the big zip on the book signing and workshop, after driving up here from Nashville. Me, though- It was the most amazing thing. She is the most amazing, talented person. Friendly and funny and smart as hell.
Right now, the Miami part is almost done. I'm sad, a little. Not for the leaving Miami tomorrow, but for the end of my peaceful retreat. Going back to Mom's will be all with the "what do you mean you need to be on the computer/internet/read, come on i want to spend time with you".
Well Mom, I do too. Thing is though, every time I see you, you're all about the same, not understanding me or my husband at all questions. And our idea of hanging out?? Not the same. I can only take so much of the questions and annoying nagging before I go nuts. This is myvacation. Who knows when I'll get another chance like this.
I'm not getting THE writing done. Originally, I'd intended to go over Joey's stuff, do some rewrites and edits, see what I think of it after taking a long break from it. Muse about Liz, X, Sarah, R, Kennie, Jordan and everyone else, see where they take me. Get back to Illusions and see if I can make that work.
I didn't really do much of that, but I did get back into the groove of writing. A HUGE step. Thank you Ren, thank you Sin. Your voices are going to be permanently etched in my mind, I can tell, even if I never write another word for either of you. I'll never be able to say or write or hear the word 'God' again without hearing your voice, saying, yes? Thank you Shade, for just lurking in the background, the promise of a really great story if ever I get around to it. Thank you Joey, for passing the Punk reigns over to Ren, for a while. I know you're there, haven't forgotten you. He's still somewhat in hibernation, disgust for the Pod People here quite evident. Thank you Buffy, for being my comic relief, while I search for two moronic brothers lost in a sea of college chicks. Thank you Cait, just for being Cait. Very rare that I find someone who understands.
Thanks to Sherrilyn Kenyon, for sitting through a combined total of four hours with a nervous, excited, thrilled fan, and just being another cool somebody who's easy to talk to. I'll have the Graeter's ready when you stop in Lvll. You amaze me and inspire me, and never again will I be afraid of doing something I love, that makes me happy.
For all of you out there that don't get it, or don't get me? Good on you, just keep me out of it. Ren's acting like a damned softie, and hasn't bothered to put spiders in anyone's car at ALL yet. Sin needs his godlypowers or whatever back, and BTW dude, quit it with the nuclear melting of everyone's computers. Big with the getting old on that one, man.
Thank you, Miami. For reminding me of where I've been, where I was when I finally started to see who I could be. Okay, so I took a lot of stumbles along the way. But I learned something last night, and today from one of the coolest people ever. I already knew, but maybe forgot for a while. It's the little things, the little flaws, small imperfections, that make us unique, make us interesting, make us human.
Jason, I miss you. I miss your goofy grin and the holding up of the cats for me to see when I get stressed out frustrated, or just need a hug. This week has kind of been all about me, but my hear is all with the being about you.
Give me the beat, boys and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock n roll, and drift away...
I was all about the rooting for the underdog in the Series the second the Yanks lost. But I'm on vacation, and I haven't been paying attention to the outside world, not really. Only the voices in my head, and otherwise.
I come back from Bagel&Deli with dinner and a Frosty~ gotta have my chocolate fix, even up here where they think ice cream is Cold Stone Crap.... and turn on the TV in anticipation of watching hopefully Sunday's eppysode of the Wire.
For some shitty reason, this hotel TV always pulls up with the CNN when you turn it on.
People are rioting and KILLING each other over your baseball team, Kiel. What the FUCK is up with that?? I can hear Lucien in the background, right now, for once in his life acting like he gives a damn and is in charge, telling you to get on it.
Killing and rioting over BASEBALL. When did America's pastime become violent? I thought only Pete Rose was supposed to be in charge of that. BASEBALL. At least in Cincy, they riot over racial issues, which are a problem anyway.
BASEBALL. I don't care if the antichrist Cards DO play them in the series. I'm not rooting for Boston, T. Your fans there are a little too freaky, even for me.
Miami. I am loving this vacation. Sucks to be Sherrilyn Kenyon, who got the big zip on the book signing and workshop, after driving up here from Nashville. Me, though- It was the most amazing thing. She is the most amazing, talented person. Friendly and funny and smart as hell.
Right now, the Miami part is almost done. I'm sad, a little. Not for the leaving Miami tomorrow, but for the end of my peaceful retreat. Going back to Mom's will be all with the "what do you mean you need to be on the computer/internet/read, come on i want to spend time with you".
Well Mom, I do too. Thing is though, every time I see you, you're all about the same, not understanding me or my husband at all questions. And our idea of hanging out?? Not the same. I can only take so much of the questions and annoying nagging before I go nuts. This is myvacation. Who knows when I'll get another chance like this.
I'm not getting THE writing done. Originally, I'd intended to go over Joey's stuff, do some rewrites and edits, see what I think of it after taking a long break from it. Muse about Liz, X, Sarah, R, Kennie, Jordan and everyone else, see where they take me. Get back to Illusions and see if I can make that work.
I didn't really do much of that, but I did get back into the groove of writing. A HUGE step. Thank you Ren, thank you Sin. Your voices are going to be permanently etched in my mind, I can tell, even if I never write another word for either of you. I'll never be able to say or write or hear the word 'God' again without hearing your voice, saying, yes? Thank you Shade, for just lurking in the background, the promise of a really great story if ever I get around to it. Thank you Joey, for passing the Punk reigns over to Ren, for a while. I know you're there, haven't forgotten you. He's still somewhat in hibernation, disgust for the Pod People here quite evident. Thank you Buffy, for being my comic relief, while I search for two moronic brothers lost in a sea of college chicks. Thank you Cait, just for being Cait. Very rare that I find someone who understands.
Thanks to Sherrilyn Kenyon, for sitting through a combined total of four hours with a nervous, excited, thrilled fan, and just being another cool somebody who's easy to talk to. I'll have the Graeter's ready when you stop in Lvll. You amaze me and inspire me, and never again will I be afraid of doing something I love, that makes me happy.
For all of you out there that don't get it, or don't get me? Good on you, just keep me out of it. Ren's acting like a damned softie, and hasn't bothered to put spiders in anyone's car at ALL yet. Sin needs his godlypowers or whatever back, and BTW dude, quit it with the nuclear melting of everyone's computers. Big with the getting old on that one, man.
Thank you, Miami. For reminding me of where I've been, where I was when I finally started to see who I could be. Okay, so I took a lot of stumbles along the way. But I learned something last night, and today from one of the coolest people ever. I already knew, but maybe forgot for a while. It's the little things, the little flaws, small imperfections, that make us unique, make us interesting, make us human.
Jason, I miss you. I miss your goofy grin and the holding up of the cats for me to see when I get stressed out frustrated, or just need a hug. This week has kind of been all about me, but my hear is all with the being about you.
Give me the beat, boys and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock n roll, and drift away...
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
musings from Miami, part 1
Well, i'm finally on vacation. In Oxford, Ohio, where I went to college. Haven't really spent any time on campus in about ten years. So far, I'm loving it. I've got a new hotel room all to myself, with a Skyline, BW3, Brunos pizza, and Skippers pub in walking distance.
Anyone who can name this movie quote, email me and you get a hundred points, plus a pint of Graeter's next time you're in Louvull.
97X.....BAM! The future of Rocknroll....97X.....BAM! The future of Rocknroll... 97X...
Anyhow, no fair to cheaters who are from Cincy, dudes.
I love this place. Sure, part of me hated college, but I love Oxford. Hopefully, tomorrow it will be sunny and I can take some pictures. Old red brick and trees everywhere, cute little college town. Some things change, others stay the same.
Skipper's is still on the corner of Uptown. Brunos is still selling pizza, for a dollar a slice on the weekend evenings I'd bet. Phan Shin, still htere. LooneyTBird's is gone, and I have to wonder, where are these kids supposed to get their CDs from? No wonder the free pirated download people do so well.
Wild Berry is still there. Best place on earth. They make the best incense on earth, anywhere, and you can find it everywhere, too. I was in heaven, smelling it all. I love incense and never get to burn it at home, because of Jason and his allergies. So, bought five dollars worth, which is a lot. And now I smell like Dragon's Blood and Fairy Dust, whatever that is, kids, I dunno, but it smells good.
Miami is... a very different thing for me. You won't find Carter, Joey, or hell especially not Ren here. Aspen, once upon a dream, but not anymore. Ever. Parker, oh Parker would fit RIGHT in here, in his khakis and plaid shirts, all rumpled and looking like a JCrew ad that got slept in, picked up, still looks as good as when it first showed up in your mailbox. With his glasses and distraction, I think I must have been channelling a bit of Oxford when I wrote him.
Jack and Ryan. I can SO see thier stupid fool asses going from frat house to frat house, doing the godzilla and king kong thing, conning guys out of free beer and picking up on the freshman women.
Carter sits quiet, wondering where his ocean went to. Joey's pacing the room, trying to get the hell out of here and back to Zero where they know good music from bad. Ren's pissy, saying whatever you do, stay in the hotel room, don't go out or their preppiness might rub off. I haven't seen Jack and Ryan since we got here, but I'm sure they're wherever the women are, showing off and being clowns.
Some cute little college guy with a great tattoo on his arm was totally checking me out in Starbucks earlier. Me. Duh, like THAT happens everyday. Anyhow, it made me chuckle. Must have been the leather blazer.
Or, maybe, it was the fact that I was wearing it in the rain, not caring, smiling, having a grand old time just being myself, and not worrying what everyone else thinks. Not having to listen to anyone but my own muses, for a while.
I love my life, love LOVE my husband, am really lucky in all of that. And today, I'm thankful for this hotel, this laptop, HBO for free, guilty pleasures food, and Wild Berry Incense. Now, thanks to the internet, you can order it online at www.wild-berry.com
Aspen's off talking in the corner of the castle to a ghost, so I've gotta go help her out now. Stay tuned tommorrow night, for the report on the writer's workshop thing at Lane Library, with the Author Goddess herself. God, I am SO nervous.
Anyone who can name this movie quote, email me and you get a hundred points, plus a pint of Graeter's next time you're in Louvull.
97X.....BAM! The future of Rocknroll....97X.....BAM! The future of Rocknroll... 97X...
Anyhow, no fair to cheaters who are from Cincy, dudes.
I love this place. Sure, part of me hated college, but I love Oxford. Hopefully, tomorrow it will be sunny and I can take some pictures. Old red brick and trees everywhere, cute little college town. Some things change, others stay the same.
Skipper's is still on the corner of Uptown. Brunos is still selling pizza, for a dollar a slice on the weekend evenings I'd bet. Phan Shin, still htere. LooneyTBird's is gone, and I have to wonder, where are these kids supposed to get their CDs from? No wonder the free pirated download people do so well.
Wild Berry is still there. Best place on earth. They make the best incense on earth, anywhere, and you can find it everywhere, too. I was in heaven, smelling it all. I love incense and never get to burn it at home, because of Jason and his allergies. So, bought five dollars worth, which is a lot. And now I smell like Dragon's Blood and Fairy Dust, whatever that is, kids, I dunno, but it smells good.
Miami is... a very different thing for me. You won't find Carter, Joey, or hell especially not Ren here. Aspen, once upon a dream, but not anymore. Ever. Parker, oh Parker would fit RIGHT in here, in his khakis and plaid shirts, all rumpled and looking like a JCrew ad that got slept in, picked up, still looks as good as when it first showed up in your mailbox. With his glasses and distraction, I think I must have been channelling a bit of Oxford when I wrote him.
Jack and Ryan. I can SO see thier stupid fool asses going from frat house to frat house, doing the godzilla and king kong thing, conning guys out of free beer and picking up on the freshman women.
Carter sits quiet, wondering where his ocean went to. Joey's pacing the room, trying to get the hell out of here and back to Zero where they know good music from bad. Ren's pissy, saying whatever you do, stay in the hotel room, don't go out or their preppiness might rub off. I haven't seen Jack and Ryan since we got here, but I'm sure they're wherever the women are, showing off and being clowns.
Some cute little college guy with a great tattoo on his arm was totally checking me out in Starbucks earlier. Me. Duh, like THAT happens everyday. Anyhow, it made me chuckle. Must have been the leather blazer.
Or, maybe, it was the fact that I was wearing it in the rain, not caring, smiling, having a grand old time just being myself, and not worrying what everyone else thinks. Not having to listen to anyone but my own muses, for a while.
I love my life, love LOVE my husband, am really lucky in all of that. And today, I'm thankful for this hotel, this laptop, HBO for free, guilty pleasures food, and Wild Berry Incense. Now, thanks to the internet, you can order it online at www.wild-berry.com
Aspen's off talking in the corner of the castle to a ghost, so I've gotta go help her out now. Stay tuned tommorrow night, for the report on the writer's workshop thing at Lane Library, with the Author Goddess herself. God, I am SO nervous.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Joey goes to Taco Hell
Please, please note. The only reason I'm posting this at ALL, is that everything has been so negative lately. Stuff that's depressing and downright violent. And if I Blog today about RL, it's going to be an angry rant about my friend who was raped Tuesday, and violence, and my warring opinions on gun control.
Instead, I'm handing the Blog over to Joey, who has been itching to tell this one for a while. Next to Jack and Ryan Raven, it's probably some of the funniest stuff I've written so far. Not funny haha for everyone else, but funny for me, because it happened to us, late one night on the way home. Some of the best stuff I write comes from things that actually happened. And when I find myself in a big writer's block, it's usually because I've been sitting in front of the computer too long and not out DOING things.
Anyhow, the disclaimer. This is going to come off sounding, I'm sure, a LOT politically incorrect. Maybe racist, Gods, please don't take any of this the wrong way. The truth is, there are a lot of foriegn folks who work at the fast food joints out in Springhurst, and frequently there are those who can't speak any more English than what is required to do their job.
I'm not saying anything bad about them. I wish them well. I'm not going to say any more. If someone out there takes issue with this, especially any of my friends, please email me at arawenne@yahoo.com.
And now for a laugh, if only for my own sake, to get us back on track with the lighter, blonder, side of my psyche.
It was late Friday night when we pulled into the local Taco drive-thru. It’s very rare for Jo and I to drive anywhere, but we’d been dancing for hours and were both craving Mexican food. Apparently everyone else in the known universe had the same thought, because the line was almost out on the street when we got there. Content to talk in the car, relax for a while and listen to the stereo, we sat and waited. This is when Tad filled me in on all that had been going on with the Carter situation. A lot of it I knew already, but I got the 411 with details and Jo’s observations. We both had a good laugh over all of it.
I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line; the people that take your order in the Drive-thru forgot how to have any manners. My sister Rachel worked at the Burger King down the street from the high school when she was a teenager. She and her friends there were always so polite. Now I get stunted sentences without even a Hello. “Take your order!” replaces “welcome to taco land, can I help you?” and “upsize?”, that’s the whole sentence, replaces “will that be all?” And let us not forget my favorite, “(insert undecipherable scrambled jumble of words here) first window”.
Amazingly, we eventually made it to the “Pay” window. Having sat in the car for well over twenty minutes, we had plenty of time to get the money ready. Some foreign looking employee stood there smiling at us, saying and doing nothing else. Since I was holding the money out the window, ready for him to take, this seemed like a pretty stupid thing for him to do. Then again, I never went to the high tech world of fast food training school, so what do I know. Giving up, I asked what the total was supposed to be. I could swear he said one hundred thirteen dollars and twenty eight cents. This seemed a little high for four tacos and two Cokes, so I handed over a twenty. Finally, some progress, he took it. Instead of change, he gave me a wad of napkins and a straw. I know these items are probably priceless somewhere in the world, but here in the US, I want some George Washingtons back, at the very least. He asked a question in what I can only assume is Taco Speak. I looked at Tad, who informed me I was being asked if we needed any sauce. Promptly, the nice fellow thrust fifteen packets of hot sauce in my hands, where they joined the napkins and straws in my lap. Um, thanks mister taco dude, but I’m trying to drive here. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this shit? And besides, the guy in the Ford Explorer in front of me got all his sauces and napkins in a neat little plastic bag. Apparently, having Tad along for the ride ticked off the Taco gods or something. The car in front of us pulled away. Hallelujah, Mexican food at last, possibly made by real Mexicans! Then I remembered that I still didn’t get any change. I looked expectantly at the guy, who was still standing there smiling at us. “Um, I guess I’ll hold all this great stuff you gave me, but do you think I could get my change?” His response was friendly, and long, and not in English OR taco language. I looked at Jo, and she shrugged. The kid vanished suddenly… not Pip and he’s gone, just, ran off. Sigh. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, and found myself singing along through most of Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song before the kid came back with some money. Hell, I didn’t even count it at that point; I just wanted cash and food.
At the next window, the teenage boy spoke English and had our food waiting. I smiled and told him their napkin and sauce system left a lot to be desired. He saw the pile of junk in my lap and laughed good-naturedly. Apparently this was a common, but unfixable, problem- since many of the other employees don’t speak much English. We took the bag of tacos, and our cokes, and I peeled the hell out of there before anyone tried to take away our rather large stash of hot sauce. I looked at the hot sauce, and looked at Tad, raised a brow and gave her a wicked grin. She laughed and ignored me. Oh well. As we pulled out onto the street and stopped at a red light, I looked over at Tad and we both had the same thought that we shouted out loud to each other, laughing hysterically. I could tell you what it is, but then I'd have to kill you.
I know, it sounds a bit like a rant, but it makes me smile every time. Thank you, Joey. And now I must yeild the floor to Jack and Ryan, my true comedic muses. We downloaded Napster the other day, and so I'm setting about to DL the Godzilla song, because those cowboys are just so damned cute in their Godzilla and King Kong costumes. Don't ask.
Instead, I'm handing the Blog over to Joey, who has been itching to tell this one for a while. Next to Jack and Ryan Raven, it's probably some of the funniest stuff I've written so far. Not funny haha for everyone else, but funny for me, because it happened to us, late one night on the way home. Some of the best stuff I write comes from things that actually happened. And when I find myself in a big writer's block, it's usually because I've been sitting in front of the computer too long and not out DOING things.
Anyhow, the disclaimer. This is going to come off sounding, I'm sure, a LOT politically incorrect. Maybe racist, Gods, please don't take any of this the wrong way. The truth is, there are a lot of foriegn folks who work at the fast food joints out in Springhurst, and frequently there are those who can't speak any more English than what is required to do their job.
I'm not saying anything bad about them. I wish them well. I'm not going to say any more. If someone out there takes issue with this, especially any of my friends, please email me at arawenne@yahoo.com.
And now for a laugh, if only for my own sake, to get us back on track with the lighter, blonder, side of my psyche.
It was late Friday night when we pulled into the local Taco drive-thru. It’s very rare for Jo and I to drive anywhere, but we’d been dancing for hours and were both craving Mexican food. Apparently everyone else in the known universe had the same thought, because the line was almost out on the street when we got there. Content to talk in the car, relax for a while and listen to the stereo, we sat and waited. This is when Tad filled me in on all that had been going on with the Carter situation. A lot of it I knew already, but I got the 411 with details and Jo’s observations. We both had a good laugh over all of it.
I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line; the people that take your order in the Drive-thru forgot how to have any manners. My sister Rachel worked at the Burger King down the street from the high school when she was a teenager. She and her friends there were always so polite. Now I get stunted sentences without even a Hello. “Take your order!” replaces “welcome to taco land, can I help you?” and “upsize?”, that’s the whole sentence, replaces “will that be all?” And let us not forget my favorite, “(insert undecipherable scrambled jumble of words here) first window”.
Amazingly, we eventually made it to the “Pay” window. Having sat in the car for well over twenty minutes, we had plenty of time to get the money ready. Some foreign looking employee stood there smiling at us, saying and doing nothing else. Since I was holding the money out the window, ready for him to take, this seemed like a pretty stupid thing for him to do. Then again, I never went to the high tech world of fast food training school, so what do I know. Giving up, I asked what the total was supposed to be. I could swear he said one hundred thirteen dollars and twenty eight cents. This seemed a little high for four tacos and two Cokes, so I handed over a twenty. Finally, some progress, he took it. Instead of change, he gave me a wad of napkins and a straw. I know these items are probably priceless somewhere in the world, but here in the US, I want some George Washingtons back, at the very least. He asked a question in what I can only assume is Taco Speak. I looked at Tad, who informed me I was being asked if we needed any sauce. Promptly, the nice fellow thrust fifteen packets of hot sauce in my hands, where they joined the napkins and straws in my lap. Um, thanks mister taco dude, but I’m trying to drive here. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this shit? And besides, the guy in the Ford Explorer in front of me got all his sauces and napkins in a neat little plastic bag. Apparently, having Tad along for the ride ticked off the Taco gods or something. The car in front of us pulled away. Hallelujah, Mexican food at last, possibly made by real Mexicans! Then I remembered that I still didn’t get any change. I looked expectantly at the guy, who was still standing there smiling at us. “Um, I guess I’ll hold all this great stuff you gave me, but do you think I could get my change?” His response was friendly, and long, and not in English OR taco language. I looked at Jo, and she shrugged. The kid vanished suddenly… not Pip and he’s gone, just, ran off. Sigh. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, and found myself singing along through most of Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song before the kid came back with some money. Hell, I didn’t even count it at that point; I just wanted cash and food.
At the next window, the teenage boy spoke English and had our food waiting. I smiled and told him their napkin and sauce system left a lot to be desired. He saw the pile of junk in my lap and laughed good-naturedly. Apparently this was a common, but unfixable, problem- since many of the other employees don’t speak much English. We took the bag of tacos, and our cokes, and I peeled the hell out of there before anyone tried to take away our rather large stash of hot sauce. I looked at the hot sauce, and looked at Tad, raised a brow and gave her a wicked grin. She laughed and ignored me. Oh well. As we pulled out onto the street and stopped at a red light, I looked over at Tad and we both had the same thought that we shouted out loud to each other, laughing hysterically. I could tell you what it is, but then I'd have to kill you.
I know, it sounds a bit like a rant, but it makes me smile every time. Thank you, Joey. And now I must yeild the floor to Jack and Ryan, my true comedic muses. We downloaded Napster the other day, and so I'm setting about to DL the Godzilla song, because those cowboys are just so damned cute in their Godzilla and King Kong costumes. Don't ask.
carter speaks
It isn't often that I feel completely helpless.
It was late, and I was out on the beach, surfing in my own private ocean. The water smells different at night; I know it's an illusion, but it sticks with me. Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed, I take a deep breath and can almost smell it, even from home. The ocean speaks to us, not in any language meant to be understood, but it speaks nonetheless.
Tonight, it was angry, and violent. Good for my kind of surfing, but it made me wonder what was wrong in the world, that the water could slash against my skin, along the board, through the air, and into the sky in such a manner.
When I went home, I found Karina lying on my bed. Not so much lying, because that implies sleep, and peace. She was wearing one of my old shirts; it looked like she'd taken a shower and then thrown on the first thing she found.
Time after time her fists slammed into the mattress, almost hard enough to split the seams and have feathers spewing everywhere. I touched her shoulder, and she jerked in response.
Karina sprang off the bed, and I thought she was going to throw herself at me, but she didn't. Instead, she started fighting me. Her temper is like this; when it gets hot enough, she needs to lash out at something. Since I am not your average Parker, I can withstand quite a bit of her pummeling, so I let her do her worst until she got it all out of her system.
By the time her fists were almost raw, she let me pick her up, and carry her to the bed. I wrapped my arms around her while she cried, and waited.
The story she told me was enough to make me wonder about humans, and my need suddenly to be around them. Why did I bother worrying over my own demons, when there were things much worse, among their own kind?
One of her friends had been attacked. There are people in the world that you might say "oh, so and so is so sweet, so nice, such fun to be around." But you don't really mean it; not entirely. This woman, this friend of Karina's, really WAS such a person. I knew instantly who Karina meant, because the little bit of a thing had made an impression on even me. She'd made me laugh, and smile, and feel at home and at ease in her little store. Rare, for someone who stayed hidden from the world for hundreds of years.
Karina's little friend had been attacked. It's one of those ugly, horrible truths about life that you don't believe until it happens to someone you know. I believe the worst in life as a rule, but Karina.... she hasn't seen the worst of it, yet.
The young woman, barely old enough to have completed college, had been in her own home. Full of life and cats and fun. And some ugly, hideous, disgusting monster broke into her little apartment, and attacked her.
People think I am a monster, but humans are a thousand times worse.
Of course, Karina's friend was out of the hospital the following day, and two days later, she was ready to get back to work and move on with life. Karina looked up at me with growing horror, as she began to realize the full effect of the event, for her friend.
How could you ever feel safe alone, at home, after something like that? How could you stand to let someone touch you, get near you? Issues that many have had to overcome. Nothing that hasn't happened before.
But how many times have you stopped to wonder, could it happen to you?
I write this because I advise you to look at your life, and be safe. There will be no more days where Karina takes out the trash, at night, alone, or walks to her car in a dark parking lot without her phone. She'll look a little more closely to be sure she's locked up the house, and the windows tightly.
And you can bet I'll be watching, and waiting.
That's all from me. There's a Great White somewhere in the area, and I intend to find it.
It was late, and I was out on the beach, surfing in my own private ocean. The water smells different at night; I know it's an illusion, but it sticks with me. Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed, I take a deep breath and can almost smell it, even from home. The ocean speaks to us, not in any language meant to be understood, but it speaks nonetheless.
Tonight, it was angry, and violent. Good for my kind of surfing, but it made me wonder what was wrong in the world, that the water could slash against my skin, along the board, through the air, and into the sky in such a manner.
When I went home, I found Karina lying on my bed. Not so much lying, because that implies sleep, and peace. She was wearing one of my old shirts; it looked like she'd taken a shower and then thrown on the first thing she found.
Time after time her fists slammed into the mattress, almost hard enough to split the seams and have feathers spewing everywhere. I touched her shoulder, and she jerked in response.
Karina sprang off the bed, and I thought she was going to throw herself at me, but she didn't. Instead, she started fighting me. Her temper is like this; when it gets hot enough, she needs to lash out at something. Since I am not your average Parker, I can withstand quite a bit of her pummeling, so I let her do her worst until she got it all out of her system.
By the time her fists were almost raw, she let me pick her up, and carry her to the bed. I wrapped my arms around her while she cried, and waited.
The story she told me was enough to make me wonder about humans, and my need suddenly to be around them. Why did I bother worrying over my own demons, when there were things much worse, among their own kind?
One of her friends had been attacked. There are people in the world that you might say "oh, so and so is so sweet, so nice, such fun to be around." But you don't really mean it; not entirely. This woman, this friend of Karina's, really WAS such a person. I knew instantly who Karina meant, because the little bit of a thing had made an impression on even me. She'd made me laugh, and smile, and feel at home and at ease in her little store. Rare, for someone who stayed hidden from the world for hundreds of years.
Karina's little friend had been attacked. It's one of those ugly, horrible truths about life that you don't believe until it happens to someone you know. I believe the worst in life as a rule, but Karina.... she hasn't seen the worst of it, yet.
The young woman, barely old enough to have completed college, had been in her own home. Full of life and cats and fun. And some ugly, hideous, disgusting monster broke into her little apartment, and attacked her.
People think I am a monster, but humans are a thousand times worse.
Of course, Karina's friend was out of the hospital the following day, and two days later, she was ready to get back to work and move on with life. Karina looked up at me with growing horror, as she began to realize the full effect of the event, for her friend.
How could you ever feel safe alone, at home, after something like that? How could you stand to let someone touch you, get near you? Issues that many have had to overcome. Nothing that hasn't happened before.
But how many times have you stopped to wonder, could it happen to you?
I write this because I advise you to look at your life, and be safe. There will be no more days where Karina takes out the trash, at night, alone, or walks to her car in a dark parking lot without her phone. She'll look a little more closely to be sure she's locked up the house, and the windows tightly.
And you can bet I'll be watching, and waiting.
That's all from me. There's a Great White somewhere in the area, and I intend to find it.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Sing out loud like nobody's listening
Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away
One year ago this Saturday, we lost a very good friend. Clay was one of Jason's best friends and the first person I ever met when I came here to Louisville. Sure he suffered from strange Nsync hair at times, but a better guy you'll never meet.
He was driving in his car, on the way home from a night at the bar where he was more well loved and known than Norm at Cheers. He was on the road I drive every day, to and from work. It's twisty and turny and he didn't have on his seat belt.
That's it, he just wasn't wearing his seat belt. Chances are good he'd be alive right now, up at Good Times singing Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy, or Whiskey Lullaby or some equally good song, if he had only been wearing his seat belt.
Of all of Jason's friends, Clay was the first one who ever made me feel welcome. Now that he's gone, I feel like I was cheated out of the chance to really get to know him. He was young, in his 20s, and engaged to the sweetest girl, Nikki. God how I can't even begin to imagine how she must have felt.
The funeral was unreal. It went on for like eight hours and I've never seen so many people. I think Nikki said something like 800 people showed up. Let's just say Clay never met a stranger and he was always making friends. Hell, he had seven grooomsmen scheduled to be in his wedding, and I'm pretty damn certain he'd asked every one of them, including J, to be his best man. If there's a person in Louisville who didn't know him, I'd be suprised.
After the funeral a bunch of Jason's gang got together at my house and we had a big party where we proceeded to get tanked. I drank what, maybe three bottles of red wine thanks to Jason's pal Josh who works at the liquor store. This saturday we're all getting together again in Clay's honor.
In the short time I knew him, Clay touched my life more than some of the people who I've known my whole life. The lesson I learned is simple. Sing out loud and enjoy life, no matter what anyone else thinks. If you love yourself, and love life, everything else is gravy.
Clay certainly loved life. You could tell. And when we were at the wake, and got to say goodbye, there's never been a clearer message from beyond that there is more out there than just this life. He was happy, he was loved, and he loved others. But in that funeral home, he was just gone. I've seen dead bodies in funeral homes before, but never experienced anything quite like what I did seeing Clay's that day. In J's words, "he just wasn't there anymore. Whatever made Clay, Clay, was just gone." And you can't tell me that whatever that was, that magnificent something, that it's just simply slipped out into the void and will be no more.
I don't believe that, because I know better. I'm not sure I believe in the concrete idea of the pearly gates, or hell either for that matter, but I know there's more than what we see. Someone out there is responsible for the fabulousness of this world, and all the people in it. It didn't just happen by some freak explosion.
Somewhere out there, Clay is still singing. I plan to sing along, to my own tunes, from here, for quite a long time. A very very long time, because I love my own life and just about everything in it. But on the day I sing my last, there will be more than just long lost family waiting for me.
Rest In Peace seems highly inaccurate. Rest in Joy, in song, in laughter and in love.
And in all that, we'll remember Stephen Clay Crockett, one of my most favorite people of all time.
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away
One year ago this Saturday, we lost a very good friend. Clay was one of Jason's best friends and the first person I ever met when I came here to Louisville. Sure he suffered from strange Nsync hair at times, but a better guy you'll never meet.
He was driving in his car, on the way home from a night at the bar where he was more well loved and known than Norm at Cheers. He was on the road I drive every day, to and from work. It's twisty and turny and he didn't have on his seat belt.
That's it, he just wasn't wearing his seat belt. Chances are good he'd be alive right now, up at Good Times singing Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy, or Whiskey Lullaby or some equally good song, if he had only been wearing his seat belt.
Of all of Jason's friends, Clay was the first one who ever made me feel welcome. Now that he's gone, I feel like I was cheated out of the chance to really get to know him. He was young, in his 20s, and engaged to the sweetest girl, Nikki. God how I can't even begin to imagine how she must have felt.
The funeral was unreal. It went on for like eight hours and I've never seen so many people. I think Nikki said something like 800 people showed up. Let's just say Clay never met a stranger and he was always making friends. Hell, he had seven grooomsmen scheduled to be in his wedding, and I'm pretty damn certain he'd asked every one of them, including J, to be his best man. If there's a person in Louisville who didn't know him, I'd be suprised.
After the funeral a bunch of Jason's gang got together at my house and we had a big party where we proceeded to get tanked. I drank what, maybe three bottles of red wine thanks to Jason's pal Josh who works at the liquor store. This saturday we're all getting together again in Clay's honor.
In the short time I knew him, Clay touched my life more than some of the people who I've known my whole life. The lesson I learned is simple. Sing out loud and enjoy life, no matter what anyone else thinks. If you love yourself, and love life, everything else is gravy.
Clay certainly loved life. You could tell. And when we were at the wake, and got to say goodbye, there's never been a clearer message from beyond that there is more out there than just this life. He was happy, he was loved, and he loved others. But in that funeral home, he was just gone. I've seen dead bodies in funeral homes before, but never experienced anything quite like what I did seeing Clay's that day. In J's words, "he just wasn't there anymore. Whatever made Clay, Clay, was just gone." And you can't tell me that whatever that was, that magnificent something, that it's just simply slipped out into the void and will be no more.
I don't believe that, because I know better. I'm not sure I believe in the concrete idea of the pearly gates, or hell either for that matter, but I know there's more than what we see. Someone out there is responsible for the fabulousness of this world, and all the people in it. It didn't just happen by some freak explosion.
Somewhere out there, Clay is still singing. I plan to sing along, to my own tunes, from here, for quite a long time. A very very long time, because I love my own life and just about everything in it. But on the day I sing my last, there will be more than just long lost family waiting for me.
Rest In Peace seems highly inaccurate. Rest in Joy, in song, in laughter and in love.
And in all that, we'll remember Stephen Clay Crockett, one of my most favorite people of all time.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Why am I listening to Rap Music?
The rhythm seems to be stuck under my skin, and every so often lately it crawls to the surface and won't let go. I don't listen to rap. Ever. At work I've got everyone trained to know that if rap comes on the radio, we're changing the channel.
I actually got frustrated in the car the other day when I couldn't figure out what the number was to the local rap station, I know there has to be one, and was stuck with pop music or nirvana. Uck. Why can't i have a CD player like the rest of the universe.
I've come to the conclusion that it's one of my muses taking hold and getting me prepped for some story that needs to be told. I'm kind of hoping it's kane or jude, because if Carter has started to like rap music, gods help us all. So far though, no one is claiming it. Maybe they know I'll kick their ass if I find out who's got me listening to the cable rap channel to someone named scrappy something or other.
LL was on earlier. Now there is some rap music I can listen to. Why isn't there an all LL all the time channel? What am I supposed to do, put Halloween H20 on automatic replay?
I'm taking a break for the moment from reading the LKH Incubus Dreams. I kind of had to. She's got us all in the middle of this big scene with JC and Richard, then all of a sudden I'm supposed to switch gears back to Police mode and Zerbrowski? This book, more than any other, you really have to seperate your own sense of self and fantasies from Anita's. And it's frustrating because every time I think Anita's life is going somewhere I can live with, she takes a step back, or seems to. The police stuff, and mystery, seems to be a hook LKH uses so she can call the book a 'mystery' instead of highly erotic paranormal whatever. Still, about every three sex scenes, we're expected to sit through the police stuff, only I find myself less and less interested. Because I know it's not going to be that well drawn out, as it was in some of the earlier books.
OK, this rap music is not working. It's all about rappers and their girlfriends. Whatever happened to the faster beat, hard core rap? I don't really have any particular interest in hearing about drugs death or killing cops, but I mean come on. I won't be able to understand it anyway, right?
Quotes of the day, from Incubus Dreams:
He licked my face, a quick flick of the tongue, and then he laughed, and it wasn't masculine, it was just Jason making a joke. Jason who would make a joke on the way to hell, even if it meant extra time and a worse punishment. No matter what form he was in, he was still Jason.
oh crap, if this rap station is going to play that rollin with the homies garbage, I'm going to slam my fist through the wall. Anyhow, there's the line where I was like, yeah, that's what I love about Jason-were.
And the other one, the one that had me cracking up. At the same time it's proof that you have to seperate yourself from your own reality and Anita's. There are things in the book that, as Anita would say, just flat out do it for me. Then there are things that IRL would be just repulsive, but in her own little fictional world I can sit back and watch. Anyway. Just when you think Richard is getting a bit more mature about everything.
Richard strode through the door, and his energy flung across the room like hot sparks from a fire. It hurt where it touched my skin like small biting insects. What do you say when you find your ex-fiancee fucking a leopardman? Richard knew just what to say. "The last time I saw anything this sick was in one of Raina's porno movies."
it's the 'richard knew just what to say' that cracks me up every time.
I've got to go now. They're playing Run DMC, and I might just have to get up and do the snoopy dance. See ya.
I actually got frustrated in the car the other day when I couldn't figure out what the number was to the local rap station, I know there has to be one, and was stuck with pop music or nirvana. Uck. Why can't i have a CD player like the rest of the universe.
I've come to the conclusion that it's one of my muses taking hold and getting me prepped for some story that needs to be told. I'm kind of hoping it's kane or jude, because if Carter has started to like rap music, gods help us all. So far though, no one is claiming it. Maybe they know I'll kick their ass if I find out who's got me listening to the cable rap channel to someone named scrappy something or other.
LL was on earlier. Now there is some rap music I can listen to. Why isn't there an all LL all the time channel? What am I supposed to do, put Halloween H20 on automatic replay?
I'm taking a break for the moment from reading the LKH Incubus Dreams. I kind of had to. She's got us all in the middle of this big scene with JC and Richard, then all of a sudden I'm supposed to switch gears back to Police mode and Zerbrowski? This book, more than any other, you really have to seperate your own sense of self and fantasies from Anita's. And it's frustrating because every time I think Anita's life is going somewhere I can live with, she takes a step back, or seems to. The police stuff, and mystery, seems to be a hook LKH uses so she can call the book a 'mystery' instead of highly erotic paranormal whatever. Still, about every three sex scenes, we're expected to sit through the police stuff, only I find myself less and less interested. Because I know it's not going to be that well drawn out, as it was in some of the earlier books.
OK, this rap music is not working. It's all about rappers and their girlfriends. Whatever happened to the faster beat, hard core rap? I don't really have any particular interest in hearing about drugs death or killing cops, but I mean come on. I won't be able to understand it anyway, right?
Quotes of the day, from Incubus Dreams:
He licked my face, a quick flick of the tongue, and then he laughed, and it wasn't masculine, it was just Jason making a joke. Jason who would make a joke on the way to hell, even if it meant extra time and a worse punishment. No matter what form he was in, he was still Jason.
oh crap, if this rap station is going to play that rollin with the homies garbage, I'm going to slam my fist through the wall. Anyhow, there's the line where I was like, yeah, that's what I love about Jason-were.
And the other one, the one that had me cracking up. At the same time it's proof that you have to seperate yourself from your own reality and Anita's. There are things in the book that, as Anita would say, just flat out do it for me. Then there are things that IRL would be just repulsive, but in her own little fictional world I can sit back and watch. Anyway. Just when you think Richard is getting a bit more mature about everything.
Richard strode through the door, and his energy flung across the room like hot sparks from a fire. It hurt where it touched my skin like small biting insects. What do you say when you find your ex-fiancee fucking a leopardman? Richard knew just what to say. "The last time I saw anything this sick was in one of Raina's porno movies."
it's the 'richard knew just what to say' that cracks me up every time.
I've got to go now. They're playing Run DMC, and I might just have to get up and do the snoopy dance. See ya.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Bad Dreams
I stayed up late reading Incubus Dreams last night, and I'm still only about 200 pages in. This is the first time a book has played havok on my subconcious in quite a long time. I didn't realize that the characters' nightmares and bad memories were having such an adverse affect on me. Maybe I'm not using the vocab. in quite the right way but I'm tired and want this down while it's fresh on my memory.
In the book, Micah talking about what happened to him made me very sad, but it was Nathaniel and Damian's nightmares that I think must have done this.
I was back at the Y daycamp. Gods that Was almost ten years ago. It looked slightly different, with different people, but it was still us being in charge of a bunch of kids and their safety. Safety which had taken a vacation in this dream apparently. We were under those covered picnic table areas that you see in parks and zoos. And, part of it was in what looked like the basement of my old church. Some bad guy or evil thing had already come along and taken one of the kids. Everyone was frantic. Police with helicopters and such trying to track the kid down,but I have a feeling for that kid at least, it was too late.
In the middle of all that, there was some crazy virus being spread. Handiwork of another, or the same, really bad evil thing. In the end, no one would get close to each other or touch anyone they cared about, for fear of transmitting whatever it was. No, that's not right. Not fear of transmitting it to others, fear of getting it themselves. And there was my Grandma Dorothy, someone who is dead now but was alive in the dream. Someone who I'd love to have back, for just a moment, for a big bear hug and to tell her how much I love her. But in the dream, I couldn't hug her, just kiss the air around her and feel really sad. I'm pretty sure the not being able to touch the people you love is something to do with the Anita book too. Not that they were stuck in any similar situation. Just, for Anita it may all be sexual but it's still all about touching loved ones, or not touching them because you love them, or other issues therein.
That's the point at which the cats woke me up. Was it because they could sense my distress? Or because they were hungry? Or because it was ten minutes before I had to get up anyway, and they like to do that?
I can't remember the last time I had such a vivid dream, or one so negative. And I don't think I've ever had a book influence my dreams so much.
Now, if the Anita book was going to come calling on my subconcious, why couldn't I have had NICE dreams with Jason or Nathaniel or Damian? Ok maybe skip those last two because they're too prone to the bad memories.
I'll probably delete this later, but this format was fastest, and easier to access this moring than my private journal. So if anyone out there is reading this, try not to delve too deeply into my subconcious and/or analyze my dreams.
In the book, Micah talking about what happened to him made me very sad, but it was Nathaniel and Damian's nightmares that I think must have done this.
I was back at the Y daycamp. Gods that Was almost ten years ago. It looked slightly different, with different people, but it was still us being in charge of a bunch of kids and their safety. Safety which had taken a vacation in this dream apparently. We were under those covered picnic table areas that you see in parks and zoos. And, part of it was in what looked like the basement of my old church. Some bad guy or evil thing had already come along and taken one of the kids. Everyone was frantic. Police with helicopters and such trying to track the kid down,but I have a feeling for that kid at least, it was too late.
In the middle of all that, there was some crazy virus being spread. Handiwork of another, or the same, really bad evil thing. In the end, no one would get close to each other or touch anyone they cared about, for fear of transmitting whatever it was. No, that's not right. Not fear of transmitting it to others, fear of getting it themselves. And there was my Grandma Dorothy, someone who is dead now but was alive in the dream. Someone who I'd love to have back, for just a moment, for a big bear hug and to tell her how much I love her. But in the dream, I couldn't hug her, just kiss the air around her and feel really sad. I'm pretty sure the not being able to touch the people you love is something to do with the Anita book too. Not that they were stuck in any similar situation. Just, for Anita it may all be sexual but it's still all about touching loved ones, or not touching them because you love them, or other issues therein.
That's the point at which the cats woke me up. Was it because they could sense my distress? Or because they were hungry? Or because it was ten minutes before I had to get up anyway, and they like to do that?
I can't remember the last time I had such a vivid dream, or one so negative. And I don't think I've ever had a book influence my dreams so much.
Now, if the Anita book was going to come calling on my subconcious, why couldn't I have had NICE dreams with Jason or Nathaniel or Damian? Ok maybe skip those last two because they're too prone to the bad memories.
I'll probably delete this later, but this format was fastest, and easier to access this moring than my private journal. So if anyone out there is reading this, try not to delve too deeply into my subconcious and/or analyze my dreams.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
There she goes, there goes Tokyo go go Godzilla
Man, who the F## was THAT dude?
I don't know, but he was creeping me out bro.
Well I'm not sticking around to find out, Ry. It's bad enough we have
the creepy dude around all the time
he's like, Katie's stalker or some shit.
Well, we can't leave. CJ says we have to stick around and cheer her up
*evil stare at CJ* hurry up then, my ass is out of here. George and I have places to be, you know.
*sigh*
Look, you guys are cute, but not helping.
I'd tell you about the time we crashed the hospital, but we're under controlled.. copied..
copyright, you moron! It's amazing you ever made it out of college, dude.
My GPA was three tenths of a point higher than YOURs, bro. So don't look at me.
That's only because you have to share my brain, dumbass, and you hijacked it all through Western Civ senior year.
Can I help it if you had the hots for that brainy chick that sat behind us?
She was hot, dude. Hey and remember that nurse that-
AHEM*
oh, sorry dude.
IF you idiots don't get on with it, I'm going to make you call me God again.
*snickers* sure, dude.
OK, so here's the deal. You want to hear about Vegas, right?
Everyone wants to hear about Vegas.
Well I'm just saying, because some people have never been there.
Well George then those dudes are either jail bait or stupider than us rednecks.
See, this is why I do all the legwork and Jack does all the hands on stuff. I deal with the suits and he deals with the help.
Man, you are worse at telling a story than Parker. And no one bores me to tears more then he does, with all that "back in the old days before we lost Avalon" shit.
@#@#!@%#%$#^#$^$#%
Brief intermission.... *pauses* *rings bell* OK, get on with it or I'm going to bed. I have to deal with a questionsmeister trainee for twelve straight hours tomorrow.
That sucks. Is she hot?
No Ry, remember? it's that old dude. The one that didn't know who Jimmy Page was.
Dude, EVERYONE knows who Jimmy Page is.
YOU don't.
Of course I do. It's the dude the little doctor bro is always arguing about with the other creepy dude.
Speaking of the other creepy dude, remember that time we were in Vegas?
*LMAO* man, that was the fucking coolest thing ever.
So there we were, free tickets to the Ghosts of Avalon concert at Mandalay Bay.
We've got lifetime VIP passes, dude.
Yeah, and since Rache had the dudette at home in school, we got to hang out with Dave.
I'm not usually a big fan of those freaky pins in your ears black death people, but he rocks.
Me either. Those death people are freakier than the creepy dude.
So we're backstage about a half hour into the concert, when the power goes out.
To the whole casino, dude.
Dude. And Jack is all like, man, George Clooney is stealing their money again.
But we knew it wasn't him 'cause Dave told us Clooney is a pansy and didn't really steal any of that money at all.
It was the apples guy.
Apples guy? What the fuck, Ry.
You know, the apples guy from that movie with the genie. The one that talks like Kiel.
He's a DOG? Ryan, your sense of logic is broken, man.
So anyway everyone was freaking out when the lights didn't come right back on.
Running and screaming, crying and fighting
cats and dogs living together and- oh wait, that was that other time, sorry dude.
so we wanted to help, but Dave was all like, "No majick, dude"
That really sucked.
But he didn't say anything about no Godzilla
OR King Kong.
No, he didn't. And he didn't say anything about flashlights or pillars of firelight or babes in really short skirts with trays of beer.
We innocently break out with the Godzilla and King Kong.
Figured if it's going to be a riot, we might as well at least have some fun.
Well, it WAS fun. Even if you did get arrested.
no, YOU got arrested. See? That's you in the mug shot. *holds up framed photo*
Oh shit it is! Man, how'd i get that screwed up in my- wait a minute, we're twins, it's you, too. That IS you not me. You're a jerk, bro.
Proving once and for all why I get to be King Kong and you have to be Godzilla, dude.
Godzilla is ten times cooler than King Kong and you know it.
please. Need I point out the P. Diddy movie?
*smacks stupid brother into silence*
*smacks him again for good measure*
*smacks him again cuz I know it was him that stole my Titans jersey*
You jackass, SHUT UP about that or we're going to have to listen to Joey go on another five hour lecture on Zeppelin history.
Whoops. You're right, sorry dude.
Now say "Ryan is the cooler twin and god of all the universe"
Ryan is the- hey shitbird, those WERE the droids I was looking for. I'm not falling for THAT two times in one week.
That reminds me, did you get a chance to watch the Star Wars DVD today?
I don't know about you dude, but whatever that was that I saw, it wasn't Star Wars. I think George Lucas has got some conspiracy going on.
Remember when Dad took us to see it?
And then we got back to school the next day and no one knew what the hell we were talking about.
Imagine growing up and not knowing the difference between the Death Star and the Rebel Alliance is.
Alright now YOU'RE starting to scare me, and you're my twin brother. That can't be good, I'm leaving.
*ZZZZZZZZZ*
Look dude, she fell asleep. And we didn't even get to finish our story.
We never could have told her that story anyhow, dude.
Yeah. Lucien would seriously kick our asses.
Not that I'm scared of him or anything. *puffs out chest*
Well yeah, but I was talking about the cops.
Oh yeah. Forgot about you getting arrested, dude.
No not that! I meant the law. Remember? We saw it on TV when Mom was watching Law and Order last week. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Shit you're right. Oh well, it's a shame. That was one funny ass story.
I know. And it even had chickens and easter eggs. Every good story has to have easter eggs.
Come on, I want to get going anyway. Trance is DJ at Zero tonight, and he promised to play our theme song when we get there.
Which one? The Kenney Chesney or the Alan Jackson?
No, the new one by those rich dudes.
Hell we are NEVER going to live that one down George, but if it gets me laid I guess I don't care.
What was the name of that dude again that stole our line?
I don't know but if anyone sees him, tell him I said thanks *vbg*
I don't know, but he was creeping me out bro.
Well I'm not sticking around to find out, Ry. It's bad enough we have
the creepy dude around all the time
he's like, Katie's stalker or some shit.
Well, we can't leave. CJ says we have to stick around and cheer her up
*evil stare at CJ* hurry up then, my ass is out of here. George and I have places to be, you know.
*sigh*
Look, you guys are cute, but not helping.
I'd tell you about the time we crashed the hospital, but we're under controlled.. copied..
copyright, you moron! It's amazing you ever made it out of college, dude.
My GPA was three tenths of a point higher than YOURs, bro. So don't look at me.
That's only because you have to share my brain, dumbass, and you hijacked it all through Western Civ senior year.
Can I help it if you had the hots for that brainy chick that sat behind us?
She was hot, dude. Hey and remember that nurse that-
AHEM*
oh, sorry dude.
IF you idiots don't get on with it, I'm going to make you call me God again.
*snickers* sure, dude.
OK, so here's the deal. You want to hear about Vegas, right?
Everyone wants to hear about Vegas.
Well I'm just saying, because some people have never been there.
Well George then those dudes are either jail bait or stupider than us rednecks.
See, this is why I do all the legwork and Jack does all the hands on stuff. I deal with the suits and he deals with the help.
Man, you are worse at telling a story than Parker. And no one bores me to tears more then he does, with all that "back in the old days before we lost Avalon" shit.
@#@#!@%#%$#^#$^$#%
Brief intermission.... *pauses* *rings bell* OK, get on with it or I'm going to bed. I have to deal with a questionsmeister trainee for twelve straight hours tomorrow.
That sucks. Is she hot?
No Ry, remember? it's that old dude. The one that didn't know who Jimmy Page was.
Dude, EVERYONE knows who Jimmy Page is.
YOU don't.
Of course I do. It's the dude the little doctor bro is always arguing about with the other creepy dude.
Speaking of the other creepy dude, remember that time we were in Vegas?
*LMAO* man, that was the fucking coolest thing ever.
So there we were, free tickets to the Ghosts of Avalon concert at Mandalay Bay.
We've got lifetime VIP passes, dude.
Yeah, and since Rache had the dudette at home in school, we got to hang out with Dave.
I'm not usually a big fan of those freaky pins in your ears black death people, but he rocks.
Me either. Those death people are freakier than the creepy dude.
So we're backstage about a half hour into the concert, when the power goes out.
To the whole casino, dude.
Dude. And Jack is all like, man, George Clooney is stealing their money again.
But we knew it wasn't him 'cause Dave told us Clooney is a pansy and didn't really steal any of that money at all.
It was the apples guy.
Apples guy? What the fuck, Ry.
You know, the apples guy from that movie with the genie. The one that talks like Kiel.
He's a DOG? Ryan, your sense of logic is broken, man.
So anyway everyone was freaking out when the lights didn't come right back on.
Running and screaming, crying and fighting
cats and dogs living together and- oh wait, that was that other time, sorry dude.
so we wanted to help, but Dave was all like, "No majick, dude"
That really sucked.
But he didn't say anything about no Godzilla
OR King Kong.
No, he didn't. And he didn't say anything about flashlights or pillars of firelight or babes in really short skirts with trays of beer.
We innocently break out with the Godzilla and King Kong.
Figured if it's going to be a riot, we might as well at least have some fun.
Well, it WAS fun. Even if you did get arrested.
no, YOU got arrested. See? That's you in the mug shot. *holds up framed photo*
Oh shit it is! Man, how'd i get that screwed up in my- wait a minute, we're twins, it's you, too. That IS you not me. You're a jerk, bro.
Proving once and for all why I get to be King Kong and you have to be Godzilla, dude.
Godzilla is ten times cooler than King Kong and you know it.
please. Need I point out the P. Diddy movie?
*smacks stupid brother into silence*
*smacks him again for good measure*
*smacks him again cuz I know it was him that stole my Titans jersey*
You jackass, SHUT UP about that or we're going to have to listen to Joey go on another five hour lecture on Zeppelin history.
Whoops. You're right, sorry dude.
Now say "Ryan is the cooler twin and god of all the universe"
Ryan is the- hey shitbird, those WERE the droids I was looking for. I'm not falling for THAT two times in one week.
That reminds me, did you get a chance to watch the Star Wars DVD today?
I don't know about you dude, but whatever that was that I saw, it wasn't Star Wars. I think George Lucas has got some conspiracy going on.
Remember when Dad took us to see it?
And then we got back to school the next day and no one knew what the hell we were talking about.
Imagine growing up and not knowing the difference between the Death Star and the Rebel Alliance is.
Alright now YOU'RE starting to scare me, and you're my twin brother. That can't be good, I'm leaving.
*ZZZZZZZZZ*
Look dude, she fell asleep. And we didn't even get to finish our story.
We never could have told her that story anyhow, dude.
Yeah. Lucien would seriously kick our asses.
Not that I'm scared of him or anything. *puffs out chest*
Well yeah, but I was talking about the cops.
Oh yeah. Forgot about you getting arrested, dude.
No not that! I meant the law. Remember? We saw it on TV when Mom was watching Law and Order last week. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Shit you're right. Oh well, it's a shame. That was one funny ass story.
I know. And it even had chickens and easter eggs. Every good story has to have easter eggs.
Come on, I want to get going anyway. Trance is DJ at Zero tonight, and he promised to play our theme song when we get there.
Which one? The Kenney Chesney or the Alan Jackson?
No, the new one by those rich dudes.
Hell we are NEVER going to live that one down George, but if it gets me laid I guess I don't care.
What was the name of that dude again that stole our line?
I don't know but if anyone sees him, tell him I said thanks *vbg*
Thursday, September 16, 2004
the small pleasures in life are always the best
Jason and I started watching Farscape a couple years ago when we found it on the SciFi channel. They used to run all the eps, in order, late at night around midnight. Which was perfect for us, because one or both of us would just be getting home from work then. One day when they were nearing the final season in repeats, they just yanked it completely. What did they replace it with? Crossing Over. Or something. Hell, I would have even taken that ridiculous Lexx show over Crossing Over.
So, now we've got the TiVo. I turned the TV off last night after watching some program recorded off of TNT. When I turn the TV on this afternoon, not really expecting anything good to be on, the TiVo tunes itself to SciFi where an old eppysode of Farscape is on! And I haven't even told the dang thing that I love this show yet. It figured that out all by itself.
My day started itself off with a phone call, from the BP station where my car is being fixed. Something I was dreading, that I've put off for months, snowballed into three seperate problems. I had nightmares about how much it was going to cost, worrying a bit over spending so much money less than a year before I'll be ready to buy a new car. Grand total? Less than four hundred dollars. I was doing the snoopy dance around the house and the cats thought I was nuts.
Now here's a good one. For anyone who's never heard of DarkHunters, go to www.dark-hunter.com and check it out. The cover for Alexion's story is up. Well, the UK edition anyhow. The quote on the cover to Val's book is something like, "move over, Anne Rice". Couldn't have said it better myself. I love Lestat and her vampire books, but I really hated the finale that came out last year. The one that tied the Witching Hour characters into the Lestat mythos. Gods, it was just awful. Very depressing. I know Anne Rice lost her husband and that of course would impact her writing. I'm not trying to belittle that. I would have rather she published a short memo saying simply "Lestat is gone, off in the universe somewhere. Close your eyes and dream, and you will find he's not so far away." Maybe I should finish the damned thing. I only ever got about half way through. Got so discouraged that I skipped ahead and read some of the end, found out that it wasn't going where I wanted it to. Why bother with that depressing garbage when I could reread Zarek or Kyrian or a stack of comics that literally falls over every time you add another one to it?
I've got cherry flavored sodas, left over ice cream and honey flavored wings for treats this afternoon. Shen and Carter have been in and out of my thoughts and I've got some writing to do. My car is ready and when I pick it up by Krogers, it's ten percent off day for groceries. OH, and there's a Ben Browder marathon on the SciFi channel which my newest love, Tivo, has helpfully pointed out. I don't have any fresh books to read which means I'll be inclined to actually write later, which always makes me happy. Oprah said a long time ago to think every day of five things you're grateful for. Don't worry, I'm not going to do THAT every day. But today I'm grateful for TiVo, John Crichton, Hank the mechanic at BP, treats, discounts, quiet writing time, and UK book publishers. That's closer to ten or something, but I don't think Oprah will mind.
So, now we've got the TiVo. I turned the TV off last night after watching some program recorded off of TNT. When I turn the TV on this afternoon, not really expecting anything good to be on, the TiVo tunes itself to SciFi where an old eppysode of Farscape is on! And I haven't even told the dang thing that I love this show yet. It figured that out all by itself.
My day started itself off with a phone call, from the BP station where my car is being fixed. Something I was dreading, that I've put off for months, snowballed into three seperate problems. I had nightmares about how much it was going to cost, worrying a bit over spending so much money less than a year before I'll be ready to buy a new car. Grand total? Less than four hundred dollars. I was doing the snoopy dance around the house and the cats thought I was nuts.
Now here's a good one. For anyone who's never heard of DarkHunters, go to www.dark-hunter.com and check it out. The cover for Alexion's story is up. Well, the UK edition anyhow. The quote on the cover to Val's book is something like, "move over, Anne Rice". Couldn't have said it better myself. I love Lestat and her vampire books, but I really hated the finale that came out last year. The one that tied the Witching Hour characters into the Lestat mythos. Gods, it was just awful. Very depressing. I know Anne Rice lost her husband and that of course would impact her writing. I'm not trying to belittle that. I would have rather she published a short memo saying simply "Lestat is gone, off in the universe somewhere. Close your eyes and dream, and you will find he's not so far away." Maybe I should finish the damned thing. I only ever got about half way through. Got so discouraged that I skipped ahead and read some of the end, found out that it wasn't going where I wanted it to. Why bother with that depressing garbage when I could reread Zarek or Kyrian or a stack of comics that literally falls over every time you add another one to it?
I've got cherry flavored sodas, left over ice cream and honey flavored wings for treats this afternoon. Shen and Carter have been in and out of my thoughts and I've got some writing to do. My car is ready and when I pick it up by Krogers, it's ten percent off day for groceries. OH, and there's a Ben Browder marathon on the SciFi channel which my newest love, Tivo, has helpfully pointed out. I don't have any fresh books to read which means I'll be inclined to actually write later, which always makes me happy. Oprah said a long time ago to think every day of five things you're grateful for. Don't worry, I'm not going to do THAT every day. But today I'm grateful for TiVo, John Crichton, Hank the mechanic at BP, treats, discounts, quiet writing time, and UK book publishers. That's closer to ten or something, but I don't think Oprah will mind.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
small beginnings
What have I gotten myself into? Web publishing? HTML? This must be how Mom feels when I give her the exasperated, but Mom, no one can call you on your cell phone if you don't turn it ON look. Also I am reminded of fourth grade when I couldn't make the Apple IIe program tell me how old I would be in the year 2000.
Here I am anyway, gods help us all. Joey's yammering away in my head wanting to take over and type all kinds of skater/punk/mystick nonsense. Carter lounges in the doorway, waiting patiently. He knows if I can make this work it will only be a matter of time before I get to him.
But first, me. Today was a crazy day. My car was acting weird, my assistant was late, and I must be PMSing because I didn't deal with it all very well. Thank gods for Jason who I sometimes think is my inner peace. He just rubs my shoulders and smiles, or holds up one of the cats with a dopey grin. How can I not melt at that? Anyhow, to compensate for my frustrating afternoon, we went out. Jason bought a motorized litter box and I bought a TiVo.
woo hoo, TiVo!! Now I don't ever have to worry about missing Stargate or Smallville again. I am such a geek.
The litter box is having it's own strange effect on the household. Belle waits until it is clean, then lays down as if it were a bed. Mr. Jack and Roo watch it with growing concern. Roo is most freaked out by it. Funny, I wouldn't have pegged her as a technophobe, but there you go. Jack just huffs around as usual.
Not one to leave things on such a disgusting note....how did I get on that topic anyhow? I can't make the pictures upload, so we're going to table that while I run and try to determine how such a thing is done.
Here I am anyway, gods help us all. Joey's yammering away in my head wanting to take over and type all kinds of skater/punk/mystick nonsense. Carter lounges in the doorway, waiting patiently. He knows if I can make this work it will only be a matter of time before I get to him.
But first, me. Today was a crazy day. My car was acting weird, my assistant was late, and I must be PMSing because I didn't deal with it all very well. Thank gods for Jason who I sometimes think is my inner peace. He just rubs my shoulders and smiles, or holds up one of the cats with a dopey grin. How can I not melt at that? Anyhow, to compensate for my frustrating afternoon, we went out. Jason bought a motorized litter box and I bought a TiVo.
woo hoo, TiVo!! Now I don't ever have to worry about missing Stargate or Smallville again. I am such a geek.
The litter box is having it's own strange effect on the household. Belle waits until it is clean, then lays down as if it were a bed. Mr. Jack and Roo watch it with growing concern. Roo is most freaked out by it. Funny, I wouldn't have pegged her as a technophobe, but there you go. Jack just huffs around as usual.
Not one to leave things on such a disgusting note....how did I get on that topic anyhow? I can't make the pictures upload, so we're going to table that while I run and try to determine how such a thing is done.
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