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pipistrellafelixBack at Hugo House, with weird smells. I think it's from the bathroom--it smells obsessively clean, like somebody dumped a bottle of bleach in there and tried to cover it with weird fragrances--but I'm more or less used to it now. Still, eyuck.
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limyaael's rants rock my world, yes they do. I always want to write big ol' fantasy epics or weird short stories or something after I read them. Actually, what I really want is all the stories stuck on my Monorail computer, but I need a serial cable for that and we don't have one, and for some reason it seems to be the hardest thing in the world for my dad to manage to procure.
So, hey--does anyone have a serial cable that I cansteal borrow to get files off one computer and onto another? It won't take all that long (I hope) and I will be made very happy. And you know you want to make me happy...right?
I did find something weird that I wrote a while ago, though--off a first-line prompt--and I am so pleased with it, I will post it at the end...
Am at Anneka's now (well, I will be after work). Am really excited. Yay Anneka! Hehe...we are feeding / baking the Amish Guilt Pet, huzzah.*
Midsummer's rocks. Though I realized today how selfish I'm being, jumping on top of the AD-ing job when someone else could do it. I think I need to be able to let go of the Bathhouse--although in my defense I don't think I realized how strongly I'm stuck to it. Even on top of the Bathhouse-Love, there's something lovely about being wanted.
Got cake and coffee etc. with Nakka, Kaya and Claire after rehersal today, which was fun. Talked about girly stuff and was silly. Yay. I don't do that very often, maybe I should...heh.
Damn, I love this song...always makes me want to get on a train with paper and pencil and a camera, with one backpack and go on a roadtrip...
* I like how the name evolved...Amish Friendship Bread > Amish Guilt Bread > The Amish Pet-Thing > Amish Guilt Pet...
They returned too late.
I had already lit the fuse; the fire was already racing up the rope and there was nothing they could do but stand and watch as the building exploded into a ball of heat and noise.
They asked me what I thought I was doing. I said, blowing up the building—-what does it look like I’m doing?
They asked me why.
I said there was evidence in there; evidence they didn’t want anyone to get their hands on, trust me, I said, evidence that would incriminate both of them as fast as blinking, I said. Trust me. It’s better this way.
She put her face in her hands and started crying. As if that could bring the building back, or put out the fire. As if the tears running down her face were as effective as a horde of fire hoses.
He looks up at me and tears his glasses off angrily.
Look, I think. Superman.
He tells me I didn’t have any right to do this.
I tell him right back he didn’t have any right to do anything to me, but he did, didn’t he? Didn’t she? Didn’t both of them? Did they ask me if I wanted to be involved? No. Of course not. Did they ask me what I wanted to do? As if. Did they ever give me a choice? No.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands, I say; things are going to be different from now on. The car’s mine, I tell him. It was before, it is now. I have everything I need from you; I only took what’s mine. And I’m leaving.
Leaving, he says, his nose in the air. Leaving to where?
She looks up from her hands, her eyes red, mascara running in pretty little rivulets down her perfectly made up face. You can’t leave, she pleads, her voice hitching, sobbing. We love you. We care for you.
And I’m an Appalachian llama, I think, but I don’t say it. It would hurt her feelings. And I’m not out to hurt her feelings. Just her bank account.
limyaael's rants rock my world, yes they do. I always want to write big ol' fantasy epics or weird short stories or something after I read them. Actually, what I really want is all the stories stuck on my Monorail computer, but I need a serial cable for that and we don't have one, and for some reason it seems to be the hardest thing in the world for my dad to manage to procure. So, hey--does anyone have a serial cable that I can
I did find something weird that I wrote a while ago, though--off a first-line prompt--and I am so pleased with it, I will post it at the end...
Am at Anneka's now (well, I will be after work). Am really excited. Yay Anneka! Hehe...we are feeding / baking the Amish Guilt Pet, huzzah.*
Midsummer's rocks. Though I realized today how selfish I'm being, jumping on top of the AD-ing job when someone else could do it. I think I need to be able to let go of the Bathhouse--although in my defense I don't think I realized how strongly I'm stuck to it. Even on top of the Bathhouse-Love, there's something lovely about being wanted.
Got cake and coffee etc. with Nakka, Kaya and Claire after rehersal today, which was fun. Talked about girly stuff and was silly. Yay. I don't do that very often, maybe I should...heh.
Damn, I love this song...always makes me want to get on a train with paper and pencil and a camera, with one backpack and go on a roadtrip...
* I like how the name evolved...Amish Friendship Bread > Amish Guilt Bread > The Amish Pet-Thing > Amish Guilt Pet...
They returned too late.
I had already lit the fuse; the fire was already racing up the rope and there was nothing they could do but stand and watch as the building exploded into a ball of heat and noise.
They asked me what I thought I was doing. I said, blowing up the building—-what does it look like I’m doing?
They asked me why.
I said there was evidence in there; evidence they didn’t want anyone to get their hands on, trust me, I said, evidence that would incriminate both of them as fast as blinking, I said. Trust me. It’s better this way.
She put her face in her hands and started crying. As if that could bring the building back, or put out the fire. As if the tears running down her face were as effective as a horde of fire hoses.
He looks up at me and tears his glasses off angrily.
Look, I think. Superman.
He tells me I didn’t have any right to do this.
I tell him right back he didn’t have any right to do anything to me, but he did, didn’t he? Didn’t she? Didn’t both of them? Did they ask me if I wanted to be involved? No. Of course not. Did they ask me what I wanted to do? As if. Did they ever give me a choice? No.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands, I say; things are going to be different from now on. The car’s mine, I tell him. It was before, it is now. I have everything I need from you; I only took what’s mine. And I’m leaving.
Leaving, he says, his nose in the air. Leaving to where?
She looks up from her hands, her eyes red, mascara running in pretty little rivulets down her perfectly made up face. You can’t leave, she pleads, her voice hitching, sobbing. We love you. We care for you.
And I’m an Appalachian llama, I think, but I don’t say it. It would hurt her feelings. And I’m not out to hurt her feelings. Just her bank account.
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no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 03:02 am (UTC)...I am totally bored, Nakka. I really want to be over there hanging out with you.
This is dull.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 03:38 am (UTC)...and then i think, hell no. :D
(i like your picture!)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 04:08 am (UTC)We need to have more girl talk over coffee/tea/italian sodas. Girl talk is fun and makes me feel special... and feeling special is nice.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 01:07 am (UTC)Yes...and shopping. For boyfriends. ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 01:13 am (UTC)of course.