Tuesday, November 26, 2002

So in about an hour I'm throwing my most important possessions into the car and heading home for the holidays, you know the drill. In other words, I'll either blog constantly or not at all.

I'm betting on 'not at all', myself. Not much in the way of Internet access this time unless I want to pay 800 access fees.

In other news, airplane travel, which makes me a very unpleasant little ball of stress to be around right now. Poor Boyfriend.

Tally-ho!

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 02:50 PM EST
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Sunday, November 24, 2002

Not only is this taken out of context and provided without explanation, but a large part of the dialogue is, in fact, wholly fabricated by me, removing it one step further from its pure and refreshing source. I refuse to apologize.

Several months ago:

"I have so very many mp3s. More mp3s than you could ever hope to own."

"You do."

"In short, my mp3nis is bigger than yours will ever be. Bow before its might!"

"... mp3nis?"

"Do not mock the mp3nis, wench!"

"Eeek! No! I wasn't mocking your majestically jutting mp3nis! Put it away!"

"Yes, put that mp3nis back in your pants where it belongs."

"You stay out of this!"

(Sadly, shortly thereafter, the mp3nis was dealt a mortal blow and shriveled. Only now is it beginning to recover, thanks to a brand-new computer.)

Today:

"I'm so happy to have mp3s again. My mp3nis is only about half the size it was, but that will change!"

"Soon it will be as swollen and grandiose as ever!"

Mooncalf bakes it a little 'Congratulations On Your Turgidity' cake.

"... I want that cake."

"... me too, actually."

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 10:59 PM EST
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The smell of the interior of a luxury car owned by old people is a very, very particular scent.

Last night when I went out for my walk I discovered I can smell and identify it from a good twenty-five feet away.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 10:38 AM EST
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Friday, November 22, 2002

There's snow on the ground! And it's sticking!

Who authorized this?

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 07:18 PM EST
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Wednesday, November 20, 2002

WARNING: Pointless and useless metaphor created under the influence of six a.m.

All stories are, at heart, a diagram of lines and circles.

Sometimes you need to move the story along, get it from one place to another, and that's a line, drawn from point A to point B; action, if you will, or just events.

But sometimes you stop and start drawing circles. Two sentences of setting, place, description? Circles. Adjectives? Circles. Expanding on a statement? Circles. Description of what a character is doing that does not move the plot or main idea along at all? Circles.

Most lines are studded with circles of all sizes, of course. "He walked north. He struck the snake with his sword. It died. He took the gem. He walked south." is just a little dry. Although honestly, if I could write that forthrightly, sometimes I'd be the better for it.

Dialogue can be both, of course; "So I'm leaving you, you fucker!" "Fine!" is a line. "And then what'd she say?" "Oh, nothing much, really, more tea?" is a circle.

Most stories that I write start out in a burst of circles, like I've thrown a stone into a pond, and then develop into lines, a streak of them, with occasional circles to break up the monotony. And then the story ends in a second burst of circles, catching the lines, cushioning them, giving them a place to end.

And isn't that more or less right, really, starting with exposition and background and setting and character, then making things happen in a burst of fireworks, then wrapping it all up? Oh, sometimes the two puddles of circles are extraneous, certainly, especially in fanfiction, where a single word can call an entire person to mind for the knowledgeable. I rather enjoy that, really.

Recently I've been co-writing a lengthy piece with a friend, just for fun. And sometimes we both draw circles, and the story turns slow, languid, beautiful; sometimes we both draw lines, and the story becomes a headlong rush, a frenzy of action that will not be denied.

But mostly it goes like this: she will draw a line and email it to me, moving the story on. And I will draw a circle around her line, explaining, expanding, describing, and email it back. And she will draw another line, and I will encircle it.

And then, just for fun, I'll draw a line instead, because I felt like it belonged there. And she will happily draw a circle around it and send it back.

I guess that if you drew it as a diagram and looked at it, it would look something like a necklace of bicolored pearls, a string of circles with lines through the middle (and occasional gaps, of course, because the story is about words, not about drawing a line of pearls).

It amuses me to insert that 'pearl necklace' simile here, referring to that story, for reasons I don't really feel like explaining. Given my habit of making imaginary people fornicate for my amusement, well, I'm certain you can draw your own conclusions. I am the Caligula of my mind.

So, lines and circles, circles and lines, compass and straightedge and a pencil and straight on 'til morning.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 05:54 AM EST
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Saturday, November 16, 2002

Whatever the crazy-ass problem with commenting was, I seem to have inadvertantly fixed it. Sorry about that, folks.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 11:21 PM EST
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Friday, November 15, 2002

... and the acting is just as wooden and unconvincing, too!

Gotta love you, Mad Magazine.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 03:18 PM EST
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Thursday, November 14, 2002

Taken completely and utterly out of context, and presented with no explanation whatsoever:

"Just because you see a hard-on and there's no little museum proctor running around hanging 'PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE EXHIBIT' signs on it doesn't mean you can put it in your mouth! Like a toddler! Do I have to babyproof my cock for you? Do I?!"

"... yes. If only because I'd be fascinated to see what that entails."

"It entails nailing a big board to it so that you can't fit it in your mouth, imbecile. Or putting one of those dumb plastic latches on my codpiece so that you can't undo it."

"God, I knew you were kinky but I didn't know you were that kinky."

"Oh, shut up."

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 05:36 AM EST
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Sunday, November 10, 2002

Sure Signs I'm Getting Old:

I actually have brand loyalties.

And not just brand loyalties on the important things, like cosmetics, which I love to look at and hate to wear; I remember being thirteen and thinking Clinique makeup was just the shit (which it isn't, really, but it's nice and high-quality and comes in neat swirly-green and silver packaging, which makes it, if not the shit, the wet fart).

Or clothing brands: nothing for thirteen-year-old me but Express and the Limited, none of this Gap stuff, this was the eighties and I was a teenager and I wanted to look as hiptrash as possible right now and yes, that did include the pink headband with black polkadots and a little black bow on the side, to be worn with the matching slouchy pink t-shirt that reached to my knees.

No, now I have frumpy-housewife-in-curlers brand loyalties. I have a preference in toilet paper brands, for godsakes. I keep expecting to turn on the TV and see myself in one of those terrible cheesy seventies-style commercials, rubbing toilet paper against my cheek and squealing, "I'll never use anything else again!"

And, you know, I haven't. It's literally been years since I had any other brand of toilet paper in the house.

Now, see, that's something else that thirteen-year-old me would never have understood. Back then a dollar bill was significant money and a fiver was a windfall from heaven, to be spent however I liked with the sad knowledge that once it was gone it would not be replaced for a long time; now I am thirty and I spend my own money -- my! own! money! -- on things like toilet paper.

Boring, unfashionable, useful things. God, if being an adult means spending money on the boring stuff, count me right out and buy me a brand-new Wham! cassette.

I wasn't cool when I was thirteen, and I'm surely even less cool now. But at least now I can tell the world about my secret toilet paper shame without embarrassing myself to death, which is probably an improvement.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 05:21 AM EST
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Saturday, November 9, 2002

Bumper sticker spotted on a beater at the comic store: 'My other vehicle is a Decepticon'
License plate on same car: ENERGON

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 10:52 PM EST
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Monday, November 4, 2002

Things To Do Today:

Go to courthouse.

Have name legally changed to 'Fuck Shit Goddammit, Esquire'.

Find people who are cursing and scream invective at them about taking my name in vain.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 06:26 PM EST
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Sunday, November 3, 2002

Something I actually had to say today:

"Boyfriend, please do not stick burned-out lightbulbs in the cat's ears."

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 10:27 PM EST
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