![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bending_sickleIt's been over a gorram week that a filthy little nerve on my right shoulder blade has been twitching. I mean, it'd be great if that meant I was growing wings* but it's annoying the hell out of me.
No pwp written as of yet, but am remembering quite a bit more of the scene. (I came up with it on a really long and boring car trip ages ago, so it's all a bit rusty.)
Didn't go to the concert because it was at 11 and not 10 or 10:15, finished at 11:45, which is way to tight for the metro, and everyone else backed out anyway. Instead hung out with MCarmen, who's on leave because her sorely-lacking-in-calcium foot cracked (slightly). I also cuddled with the Nena the dog.
Right now, I'm going to get my mini-tub of Haagen Das's Ricotta and Rasberry icecream and watch House's "No RCP" ep.
Btw, the upstairs neighbour won't stop what appears to be a quest to drag furniture about at the oddest hours of the night. It reminds of of when Kit-kat and her beau were falsely and bewilderingly accused of rearranging the furniture at 3 am.
Another thing. The wierdest things happen to me when I'm falling asleep, or very tired and sitting around waiting. In both situations, I often get brilliant flashes or inspiration (or evil blood-sucking plot bunnies which are ultimately flawed). However, sometimes, though rarely, my brain decides to compose freakin' trance music as I fall asleep. By which I mean, I can totally hear the music, and make a few little alterations and stuff. It's actually some good stuff. Not that I care about disco music, dj-ing or nightclubs, but hey, brain wierd.
Yesterday, my brain decided to create a song. Me being the scribble-fiend that I am, I jotted down the lines in my cell-phone (the way to learn how to write messages quickly). The lyrics/poem/mess was as follows:
This revolutions is the solution
or maybe just an illusion, baby.
It's just like a bomb diffusion,
dainty and fair.
You'd sell your life for a taste of it, darling,**
and spend every last penny
on a repeat of the show.
Don't know what I'd do if I were you
but one thing's sure:***
I'd never put my soul at stake.
But who am I to say,
I tried to trade my heart away
but no one would give me theirs.
An old woman at the fair told me
they all taste the same anyways.
There's no appetite left in me.
* Kinda sorta scarred by that X-Men 3 scene. You know the one. Blood and knives and little crying boys...
** To my mind, there's a bit of a change of subject here, because the "it" isn't the revolution.
*** This is where I started directing the lines a bit.
No pwp written as of yet, but am remembering quite a bit more of the scene. (I came up with it on a really long and boring car trip ages ago, so it's all a bit rusty.)
Didn't go to the concert because it was at 11 and not 10 or 10:15, finished at 11:45, which is way to tight for the metro, and everyone else backed out anyway. Instead hung out with MCarmen, who's on leave because her sorely-lacking-in-calcium foot cracked (slightly). I also cuddled with the Nena the dog.
Right now, I'm going to get my mini-tub of Haagen Das's Ricotta and Rasberry icecream and watch House's "No RCP" ep.
Btw, the upstairs neighbour won't stop what appears to be a quest to drag furniture about at the oddest hours of the night. It reminds of of when Kit-kat and her beau were falsely and bewilderingly accused of rearranging the furniture at 3 am.
Another thing. The wierdest things happen to me when I'm falling asleep, or very tired and sitting around waiting. In both situations, I often get brilliant flashes or inspiration (or evil blood-sucking plot bunnies which are ultimately flawed). However, sometimes, though rarely, my brain decides to compose freakin' trance music as I fall asleep. By which I mean, I can totally hear the music, and make a few little alterations and stuff. It's actually some good stuff. Not that I care about disco music, dj-ing or nightclubs, but hey, brain wierd.
Yesterday, my brain decided to create a song. Me being the scribble-fiend that I am, I jotted down the lines in my cell-phone (the way to learn how to write messages quickly). The lyrics/poem/mess was as follows:
This revolutions is the solution
or maybe just an illusion, baby.
It's just like a bomb diffusion,
dainty and fair.
You'd sell your life for a taste of it, darling,**
and spend every last penny
on a repeat of the show.
Don't know what I'd do if I were you
but one thing's sure:***
I'd never put my soul at stake.
But who am I to say,
I tried to trade my heart away
but no one would give me theirs.
An old woman at the fair told me
they all taste the same anyways.
There's no appetite left in me.
* Kinda sorta scarred by that X-Men 3 scene. You know the one. Blood and knives and little crying boys...
** To my mind, there's a bit of a change of subject here, because the "it" isn't the revolution.
*** This is where I started directing the lines a bit.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-14 01:56 pm (UTC)The Ghastly Glasses (1985), and Mail-Order Wings (1981), Beatrice Gormley
sometimes i want to reread all the books i loved when i was younger. but i think it would take a long time. and i wouldn't want to tarnish the memories, seeing how many of them probably wouldn't live up to the image i have of them in my mind.
xxx
kathleen
no subject
Date: 2006-07-14 10:15 pm (UTC)"Skywater" is one I'd jump to reread.
But what I'd especially like is to curse my library for not having "The Orphan" (book one of two) but having "The Captive" (book two) by Stallman, which I read regardless... Shape-changing werewolf parasitic-alien-spawn! How could they *do* this to me?!?