when the sun burst through the sky

Jul. 21st, 2017 10:05 am
musesfool: Stephanie Brown as Batgirl (can't hardly wait)
[personal profile] musesfool
I spent last night reading fic where Jason and Cass turn out to be biological siblings, not just adopted siblings, and squee!, that is one of my favorite Batfamily tropes. Plus, there was some awesome Jason-Cass-Steph bonding which I feel canon has repeatedly cheated me out of, even though they would get along like a house on fire (literally, probably, given Jason's involvement and enjoyment in blowing things up). Plus there is some hilarious snark at poor Tim's expense that made me laugh out loud repeatedly. Oh Tim. (There will be recs at the end of the month as usual, but here and here for those of you who are impatient and also not following my pinboard.)

Also, yesterday, my consolation birthday present arrived - a beautiful red patent leather Love Moschino tote bag (wow, there were three left in stock when I ordered mine and now there are none! I'm glad I got there in time!). During the whole epic search for a new bag, I coveted a red patent leather bag, but couldn't find one (or, rather, couldn't find one that was less than, like, $800 and while I'm profligate, I'm not that profligate), since I guess they aren't in style right now? Except it's red patent leather so I can't imagine how it could go out of style? But whatever. On a whim on Wednesday, I checked Zappo's to see if there were any available, and lo and behold, there it was. It's beautiful. It's big and kind of unwieldy (and unpleasantly sticky against the bare skin of my arm in the heat), but I don't care, because it's gorgeous.

Bosses 1 & 3 both admired it as I unpacked it from the box, and they were like, "Are you going to save it for special occasions?" and I said, "Hell no!" (note: I did not actually say "Hell no!" I just said, "no! I bought it so I could use it! Because it is beautiful!") And I recommend to all of you to use your beautiful and special things rather than waiting for some mythical special occasion to crop up, because frequently, you will be waiting forever and never get to enjoy the beautiful thing you bought for yourself. Using a special bag/wearing your beautiful new shoes/opening that expensive bottle of wine - they can all make a regular occasion special, and I recommend you do that rather than wait for some occasion arbitrarily deemed "special" enough to break out the fancy lipstick or whatever. Live your best life whenever you can, people!

***
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
I mean not to be rude or anything, I do know Rent is strongly based on La Boheme (I mean the fucking song for one thing) but there's a certain distinct shall we say tonal and characterisation similarity which suggests to me a strong familiarity with Angels In America, now that I've actually seen it.

(I went to see an NT Live screening of Angels in America: Millennium Approaches with Ruthi last night as Part Deux of her now-very-belated birthday present, for clarity).

I spent the whole first act mostly hypnotised by the fact that Denise Gough in this production (but not in any of her official photos, it turns out) looks near-identical - if slightly blonder - to the way my mother did the year this is set, 1985. Mildly disturbing. Fortunately as no one in the play was a toddler, no one in it resembled me during that year. Or tbh any other year. One day I may develop the figure of Nathan Lane as Ron Cohn (oh hey I thought I recognised the character's name; it's the man who mentored Trump! GReaaettttaarrgk great)*, but I doubt I'm going to manage to look like anyone else.

Anyway, I now actually know the plot or rather selection of scenes that make up the first half of the play, I also now understand Marika's deep and abiding attachment to Miss Thang (Nathan Stewart Jarrett excelled in this role; I mean, the whole main cast excelled in its roles, and Russell Tovey gives good "conflicted innocent" thanks to Them Eyes and so on, but I am biased in favour of Nathan SJ because he is A BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL MAN); Andrew Garfield a tad too muscular to be dying of AIDS and specifically described as having a "weight problem", the angel impressively terrifying, and what old-time Theatre Studies Me would probably wax lyrical about in terms of the use of FX/LX is best forgotten about as technical boohooing. James McArdle, with whom I am not so familiar, keeps a good balance as Louis in terms of Actual Complexity (a fairly well-written character in general who treads the fine line between being loathesomely self-involved and cowardly and just genuinely and understandably terrified and filled with sorrow and pre-emptive loss, SparkNotes of course mentions the boring conclusion that Many Critics Think He Is A Stand-In For The Playwright because, you know, ALSO a Jewish Gay Man in New York. Staggering detective work there).

Documentary at the start with Tony Kushner had him ruefully pointing out that he would really LIKE the play not to be relevant any more, which unfortunately mirrors exactly what Martin Sherman said in the Q&A after Bent.

[It has been occurring to me as I work out this morning - btw eating a fucking chicken wrap at around midnight leads to a good work-out at like 7.30am; I assume it was the wrap because it certainly wasn't the four and a half hours of fitful sleep - the ways in which things could be played different in the script, in order to jerk audience sympathies in different directions while keeping the same dialogue; all the alternative versions of the same play kind of edging in on the solidified real choice, like little ghost plays].

"Do you have any Feelings about this play, Derek?" Well, aside from the tiresome repetitive feeling that always surfaces when someone vaguely identifiable is dying ("Shouldn't that be me?"), only the sense of humanity in physical comfort and how alien and occasionally wonderful it looks. There is a lot of touch in the play, more than is standard in male/male interactions in society where I live, and sometimes it looks a little bit like heaven. (Also on the subject of NSJ, d'you ever like, immediately have an internalised homophobia fit about finding someone attractive? Like: Oh great, now I have to hate myself some more).

* "Cohn is credited with introducing Trump and Murdoch in the mid-1970s, marking the beginning of what was to be a deep and pivotal association between them." Motherfucker could you not have got AIDS a little sooner
musesfool: wendy watson in a wetsuit with a gun (come at me bro)
[personal profile] musesfool
Dear co-workers:

* I cannot finish your urgent project in a timely fashion if you keep interrupting me to ask when your project is going to be finished! Please stop!

* We have already done Thing based on all your requirements (and with your approval!) last quarter. We can just update it instead of spending so much time trying to come up with a new way to do it (only to come up with basically the exact same Thing). There is no need to spend hours reinventing the wheel!

* You have to decide whether you need a meeting to happen ASAP or if you need everyone involved present, because it's July coming up on August, and half the people you need will be out on vacation at any given moment and I have no control of that.

* I don't want healthy snacks in the vending machine. If I am driven to getting food from it, it's generally because I want Frito Lay corn chips or terrible plasticky cheap chocolate, not some sort of chip made from beans or some kind of granola bar! WTF?

no love,

me

***

Mainly for diary reasons

Jul. 20th, 2017 05:22 pm
apiphile: (henry scott tuke)
[personal profile] apiphile
Still can't fucking stay asleep because my girlfriend snores like the end of the world. Managed to have a fairly nice dream which then degenerated into falling over and constantly getting sheep shit in my mouth. Did get to pet a lot of bunnies and hang out with Andrew's friend Supriya. Who is a real person and not someone my dream invented, I should clarify. Got up at 7am and managed to shift my shit to the gym before 9, which is a miracle. Everywhere is full of schoolchildren and the weather is abominable (I gave myself a change at the gym so it feels like a rest and also my quads still hate me from all the GOBLIN SQUATS so)

Bullied Lindsay into bleaching my hair, dragged my ass to Owen's cafe in the cunting rain and FINALLY managed to asspull a very vague and probably unhelpful 30-day grid guideline with a couple of sub-plot pointers which I will have to go over at some point and expand upon. A good start, though.

Ingested lunch, went to the pub with Jess with the idea of maybe trying to write a test scene but only managed a little dialogue before getting sucked into drawing nonsense and arguing about YouTubers I neither know nor care about (also I still cannot draw); umphed off to the shops which, as an excursion, kept getting longer and longer until we ended up having coffee again somewhere and mumbling feebly about gentrification (but I did eventually get my milk so WIN TIMES).

Returned, joyously flung off my pants, wrote my pissy complaint email to the NHS and sent it, rewrote and formatted Jess's friend's CV for her, typed up my dialogue notes from the pub, and am now fervently trying to finish eighty bits of computer admin while I OUGHT to be putting my pants back on and leaving the house because I have an NT live screening to go to with Ruthi and I can't very well tell her to go on without me since she needs my phone to pick up the tickets. ALLEZ! Today has been busy somehow.
apiphile: (quite enjoying this)
[personal profile] apiphile
#13
It was one of those parties that hadn't quite to managed to get off the ground. The same six people had shown up as always, two of them weren't speaking to each other, there was only half a bottle of vodka between six and one beer each, one of the controllers was broken and Sean had forgotten the DVD he was adamant he was going to bring.

"This is bullshit," Katy said, ten minutes after arriving.

"Shh," her boyfriend muttered. There was no chance they'd missed it; there was no sound beside the failed conversation droning gently out of Sean like air from a deflating balloon. The atmosphere was dire. Sean and Alison shouldn't have been in the same room together. In fact, in Alec's fairly invested opinion, the whole party shouldn't have happened at all. Deadlines were approaching, which explained why no one else was there, Katy hadn't done any work whatsoever, had cheated on him with her now former best friend's boyfriend and refused to acknowledge it had happened at all, bringing the total number up to four...

The overhead light, courtesy of Alison's cheapskate landlord, flickered and buzzed. The TV showed the title screen of and out-of-date racing game no one wanted to play. The smell of a cat which wasn't there any more still lingered in the air.

"Back in a minute," Katy said abruptly, getting up. Alec almost followed her, but by the time he'd made the decision she was back, the front door slamming open again, trailing a man twice her age and a white teenage girl, both of whom smelled strongly of weed. The teenager proffered a bottle of overproof rum, unopened, to the room in general. Katy snatched it out of her hands.

"I can't believe you don't know your neighbours," she said, addressing everyone, although the only people responsible for this state of affairs were Tanya and Alison. She held a note of triumph in her voice. "This is Ray, and his girlfriend – what was your name again? Zelda? Zeldaya?"

"Zelida," the girl said, twirling a pigtail; she was definitely no older than sixteen and she'd made a conscious effort to look younger. "You need mixers."

"I'm going to put some music on," Katy announced, leaping to her feet again with the rum firmly clasped in her hand. Sean caught Alec's eye and glared, half mouthing what the fuck at him.

Alec kind of understood: it was meant to be a quieter evening, although not quite this quiet, given the proximity of the submission dates for projects, but, well. A: if they'd wanted a quiet night for real they wouldn't have invited Katy, who was allergic to quiet, and B: well, Sean was one of the four even if he didn't know Alec knew, and he could fuck all the way off.

A loud howl of guitar distortion barked out over the sitting room and the older man – Ray, his dreads beginning to get lumpy and badly cared-for towards the ends like he'd given up on them at some point – politely offered around a joint. Alec had, to his father's disappointment, never much liked smoking it; he inclined his head and waited for Katy to come and pounce on it instead.

She didn't, only crammed onto the sofa between him and the arm of it, where there wasn't really enough room, and where Alec acted as a buffer between her and Alison. Maybe Alison knew. Katy immediately started talking nine to the dozen about a friend who'd been to Peru recently. Alec put his arm around her waist: the friend was fictitious, she'd been rehearsing the story at him for a week.

"I'm a boring person," she'd said, rinsing purple dye into the sink. "I have to have something to talk about."

"You could let someone else get a word in edgeways for once," he'd suggested, but she hadn't found it funny.

Now, with the curtain flapping against the window and Alison listening in despite herself, caught up in the lie, he felt an obscure kind of anger that the story hadn't ever been for his benefit. She'd interrupted enough of his life, phoning him or just showing up at his room, and the bullshit itself was again just to entertain some stranger.

He readjusted his arm until his inner elbow rested on her shoulder. Katy was shorter than she looked, shorter than he always thought she was, carrying herself like she was six feet tall and trying, usually, to start a six-footer's fights. "Of course," he said with a big, pleasant smile that had already been approached by a couple of modelling agencies, much to his disgust, once Katy had finally drawn breath, "there isn't actually any Edgar. She doesn't know anyone who's been to Peru. Or really anyone outside of this room barring, I think, a couple of guys from the Sports Science course--" he bit back on why she knew them, "--do you, Kate?"

He kissed her on the forehead and felt her tense like she was about to punch him in the ribs, not for the first time – as Alison snorted a small and victorious snort. Oh, she knew, alright.

"Of course," Katy said acidly, "with this for a boyfriend, you can see why I like to imagine I'm literally anywhere else."

"He's cute though," the teenager offered, sprawling on her back on the rug. Alec realised without caring that she was already drunk when she'd arrived; now her knickers were plainly visible, not that anyone was paying her much attention.

"You're welcome to him," Katy said, digging her fingernails deep into the back of Alec's hand.

Later, they had a screaming argument at the bus stop.

Katy left him there, waiting for the night bus, and vanished into the night. She didn't return for two days, and just as he was starting to wonder if maybe he should text her and think about apologising, she showed up at his window at 2am with a fresh tattoo on her tit, climbed into bed with him without mentioning the party or the fight or where she'd been, and distracted him, yet again, from his term project.

Never knew no good from bad

Jul. 19th, 2017 10:55 am
musesfool: bodhi rook (honor the heart of faith)
[personal profile] musesfool
I went to bed early last night and I slept like a rock. I should not still be sleepy! Arrgh!

Wednesday reading meme:

What I've just finished
Caliban's War by James S.A. Corey, which I enjoyed a lot, mainly because Avasarala is the best and also Bobbie! ♥ Holden still needs a lot of punching though. Ugh. Why is this guy the main character? Not only is he a dead bore, he's a ridiculously common dead bore!

I like TV!Prax better than book!Prax, I think, but I also think the show compresses the timeline in a way that means I don't get bored with a character having repetitive beats, the way I can, and do in this case, in a book.

What I'm reading now
Still, I picked up Abaddon's Gate and started it this morning, so I'm still entertained enough to continue.

What I'm reading next
The next book in this series, probably. I don't even know what the name of it is. *looks it up* Ah, Cibola Burn.

I also read two really long stories that both turned out to be in progress, which I probably should have noticed but didn't. I mean, when I see a thing is 175K words long, I figure it's done. I mean, who has that much to say in one story? But no. Sigh.

In my recent fanfic readings, I learned that I will nope out of a story if you kill off Wedge Antilles. Which was a surprise to me - how strongly my kneejerk NOPE was - but there you go. Do not want! (I mean, I don't care for any character death in my fic, and generally not in canon either! but I get that some AU premises require it. But like Bartleby the scrivener, I would prefer not to.)

I also learned that I don't really ship Bodhi with anyone but if I did it would have to be Jyn and Cassian. Gotta keep the Star Wars OT3 pattern going, I guess. I just don't find Jyn and Cassian all that compelling. *hands* I'd much rather read about Baze and Chirrut being the most married. (I think Rebels is the only place that doesn't have an OT3, but I am okay with that. I'm already bracing for Kanan and Hera to get an undeserved tragic ending.)

I also realized that in addition to believing that Luke Skywalker is asexual, I believe Anakin is demisexual, and both Leia and Padme are bisexual. Ahsoka is mostly into women except that I also ship her with Anakin (and Rex, a little), so there are exceptions? And Obi-Wan is pansexual and flirting his way across the galaxy at any given moment.

Which is probably more than anyone cared to know about my Star Wars head canons. *snerk*

***

(no subject)

Jul. 19th, 2017 02:39 pm
apiphile: (fuck your ideals)
[personal profile] apiphile
Didn't go to Cambridge because I can't afford two train fares in one week, especially since my reasons for going were "being not here". Went to Muswell Hill to do my writing instead.

Here's one piece:

#12
"So," Ed said, when the ringing in his ears had died down,a nd the train had moved on again, "is this like a spirit quest … or a … some other kind of shamanic journey thing? … Do I have to take mushrooms? I don't get on with mushrooms. I'll hoarf."

Bodge regarded him for an uncomfortably lengthy minute, her ugly patchwork skin mottled by the stripes of fence shadows and unshaded orange sodium streetlight; someone down here hadn't had the memo about the LED bulbs in the other lampposts, or had a bee in their bonnet about them. She took a live rat out of her coat pocket.

"No," Ed said, looking at its brown and curious face. "Absolutely not."

Bodge shrugged and released the rat; it wandered off into the shadows with an air of insulting unconcern so unwarranted that Ed almost wanted to take it back.

"Stop expecting something fancy," Bodge suggested. "It's not the way I do shit." She held out her scarred, multi-tonal hand, palm up but mercifully rat-free, and said, "Take my hand."

Ed hesitated; she smelled of fox shit and had just had a rat on her hand and was probably crawling with germs even before that, but his bathroom was also probably worse on the germ front. He wasn't keen on skin contact with even the kind of people who washed their hands, regularly, with stuff that wasn't poo, but the alternatives all seemed to involve the threat of animal sacrifice, and he was even less keen on that.

He took her hand. She was very warm, and aside from the ridges in her palm, her skin was unexpectedly softy. Bodge closed her fingers over his and gave him an encouraging grin with mismatched teeth – he was sure one was a horse incisor. He was sure another was a fox canine. One of her eyes, the left one, was definitely not human. The other definitely was.

"Deep breath," Bodge suggested, gesturing to the manky railway arch in a general sweeping motion with her free hand. "It's about to get weird."

It was already weird, as far as Ed was aware, but he'd learnt of late that just because he thought he'd hit rock bottom didn't mean t the top couldn't just drift up further away. He read through the more legible graffiti around him and counted to ten; he'd got as far as seven and a silhouette of a gun firing out crows into a sunset, when Bodge yanked him off his feet and, without warning, straight out of sanity.

London boiled. The street belched and bubbled blood-red spheres from the knobbly cobbles beneath the bridge, swathed in the stink of slaughterhouses; he got the cold-veined feeling that ghosts were pressing their silvery, malleable forms into every millimetre of the air against his flesh, but refused to look.

The bubbles, red as the masque of death, contained worlds. Each world engulfed him in totality simultaneously, barraging him with potential Londons, the sticky sap of careless fabrications, rumours, tall tales and faith in the hundred personal variants of the vagrant City pouring like blood from wounds – slit animal throats glittering droplets of conviction in fiction – saliva dribbling down the chins of drunkards packed with 'knowledge' of shortcuts that didn't exist and now did – Asmodean strata as rooftops peeled away and the Devil on Two Sticks parted the secrets of the city like lips of a gash – the past and future circled into a Jormgundian ouroborous, a dog eating its own vomit, the endless branching roots – veins – roads – gangs and bombs and coins and mud and blood and fire, fire, fire, ashes and bread; plague-ridden corpses sauntering hand-in-hand with pantomime devils and impossibly poxy tarts – the Thames welling up around his legs, four-dimensional space, London passing through his cells not only now but always, from the second of its birth to the moment of his death -

Ed began to retch.

He felt the concept of urban divinity pass through the marrow of his ribcage like a physical object cheerfully thumbing its nose at the notion of mere universal laws. It hurt.

"Fuck right off--" Ed wheezed.

A bull, in a streak of temporal existence from zygote through to discarded pie fragments gnawed upon by rats, rubbed a shoulder against the arch. Both passed through each other. The bull unravelled into abattoir rejects hovering in vague spatio-temporal proximity to each other, became dogged and foxed-at; reassembled in the cacophony of a cattle-market as Ed's ears rang with auction cries, fox hunt calls, and gravedigger laughter.

Bricks exploded into the air and fell in hot, solid rain, the plink-plink of cooling metal; a brass band accompanied a hurdy-gurdy in the refrain of a Champagne Charlie classic scored by V2 bombers.

A cat screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Blood rose up between the bricks---

Ed looked down at his trousers. "Fuck's sake."

Bodge patted him on the shoulder. "Well, that's done. Have fun being a genius locii. If I need you I'll find you."

"Wait--" Ed muttered, still preoccupied with the humiliating evidence of his own existential terror, clinging damply to his crotch. "--What do I --- why is the ground further away?"

oh shit they're onto me

Jul. 18th, 2017 10:22 pm
lauramoon: (gods: freak like me)
[personal profile] lauramoon
So I took this test where they derive your personality from your reactions to photographs of psychopaths. (Apparently this is a real thing thought up by an actual doctor?) Anyway:



Those maniacs know what's up, I guess.

(no subject)

Jul. 18th, 2017 07:57 pm
apiphile: fuck you and fuck your fucking face (sire & dam)
[personal profile] apiphile
More dead people in London popping up to say hi: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-40641846

So anyway I *was* just going to go around the corner to do some writing ("some writing" = an attempted summary of my idiot book so far for the edification of [profile] wolfy_writes which I failed at btw)

but this outfit didn't seem appropriate for the yummy mummy cafe:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BWsDTWiBECQ/?taken-by=derekdesanges

so i went to camden and did the first act outline in a Costa overlooking the canal with a massive frostino (americans: this is basically a frappucino but from a different company and the coffee is nicer and the ice is thicker), then walked along the canal which was both nice and A Mistake (there are an upsetting number of people sleeping in tent colonies by the canal; it did not used to be like this. I don't understand how people can think things haven't changed for the worse in that regard. There are so many people who don't have fucking houses. SO MANY), and did the second act of writing with an iced matcha latte in Yumchaa, which overlooks camden lock market:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BWsPpwLBCdf/?taken-by=derekdesanges

(no evidence, at least nothing very big, of the large fire)

then i sort of ... accidentally kind of bought some extremely small denim dungaree shorts almost identical to the ones i used to wear 20 fucking years ago, except now they make me look like Slutty Gay Porn Boy as opposed to Wholesome Gingham Farm Girl. No photo yet. Wearing them this weekend to Brighton hopefully.

found this gem:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BWsVhjZhcgv/?taken-by=derekdesanges

then went down to my favourite cafe in the BOWELS OF THE MARKET for a nice cheap tea and an attempt at writing act three, but my brain just fell apart and my "favourite" status has been slightly revoked due to the presence of a cockroach (I don't hold it against them, there's not much you can do in that old building & anyway I pretty much just go there for tea); after a while I concluded that part of the reason everything was Bad was that I was hangry, so I went home. This involved wedging myself into several extremely packed trains. :/

https://www.instagram.com/p/BWsckMpBDvo/?taken-by=derekdesanges

spotted that on the way though

And I've spent all evening typing up edit notes and trying to make sense of my summary. BOO.

MASSIVE STORM THO.

in the corner garden

Jul. 18th, 2017 01:23 pm
musesfool: Daisy Ridley as Rey with lightsaber (you were not mine to save)
[personal profile] musesfool
You've all been watching Star Wars: Forces of Destiny, right? Leia, Rey, Ahsoka, Padme, Jyn! They're so adorable! I might be shipping Leia and Sabine a little bit now too. At least I said, "NOW KISS" at the end of "Bounty of Trouble." *g*

I caught this week's Orphan Black.

spoilers )

Ugh I stayed up way too late last night reading and I'm paying for it now. I just want to sleeeeeeeeeeep.

***

Spider-man and the Bus Ride of Spite

Jul. 18th, 2017 11:58 am
apiphile: (wanted the opposite of this)
[personal profile] apiphile
The mission to hand-deliver my Pissy Letter to the clinic began at 4.40am in Canary Wharf. According to the bus route finder I should have been able to get two buses (the N550 and the N9), but there was a half-hour wait for the N550 so I decided to take the same route in smaller stages, and it went like this:

135 towards Old Street. Changed buses abruptly somewhere between Limehouse and Aldgate (Commercial Road?) by flinging myself off the 135's front doors and running onto the N15 directly in front, having observed through their back window that their destination was the same as the N550's would have been, ie, Trafalgar Square. Currently dark, dawnish light. A lot of very tired people on that bus, which had come in all the way from Romford. People starting their work day very early on Monday Morning. At least one barista on her way to City.

N15 to Somerset House; past Minories & Tower Hill, places I almost never go, as the sun begins slowly to climb towards our backs. Mind entirely taken up with what to do for someone experiencing an acid attack. Rehearsing the steps, what to say to emergency services.

At Somerset House there's a 15 minute wait for the N9. Get on the 6 towards Willsden having determined that it diverges routes at Green Park (and who knows, by the time I get to Green Park the tube might be running). At Green Park there's 11 minutes until the N9 but 22 until the tube; fanny around on free WiFi as the sun comes up and the postman next to me facetimes his family in a part of the world where the light suggests it's already late afternoon.

N9; sitting on the top front of the bus next to a boy of about 20, who fidgets so much that I think he wants to get up, so move out of his way; he beams and says he's not getting off yet, and spends the rest of the journey (to almost the same stop as me) smirking quietly. He is offensively pretty. The sun is up, the sky is clear; west London looks surprisingly beautiful, apart from the way every single stage of this journey has seen able-bodied, sober, "normal"-looking people sleeping in doorways, making me think of the 30s and mass unemployment and the way suddenly "having nothing" was a state reserved not for those in dire mental and physical situations who'd lost family support or the ability to live in homes at all (like Graham in my hometown who was effectively sleeping rough from "choice", in the sense that his PTSD was triggered by living indoors after a truly horrific childhood) but just something that was almost inevitable. Worried about winter.

At Hammersmith, 6.20am, walk from the bus station down to the clinic. With fewer people on the streets it doesn't seem as far at all. The sun is up although still low. Everything is green and gold even though the streets are still grey and brown as ever. Pass a cafe doing set breakfasts for £3.20, like something out of the distant past, but I'm not hungry. Deliver the letter.

Back at Hammersmith Station after a bus, grocery-shopping at Tesco at 6.30 am, inspecting individual carrots with a sense of cheerful dislocation from the world. Buy self a frappuccino on the grounds, somehow, that I've earned it.

Train with the rush hour commuters; edit a bit more of the short story, although it's now past the point in the narrative where I basically need to just cut the entire remainder and begin rewriting - somewhat annoyed/cautious about spending too much time on this when the book requires my attention more. Arrive home with the intention of going straight to the gym but spend too long in the bathroom and lose the will; decide to wait until after post-cinema nap, and spend the time before the cinema reading quite a large chunk of my dumb murder mystery, having decided that "dumb murder mystery" is all the mental energy I have left. Too tired to be angry with myself for not gymming or editing, which suggests my evaluation of that is correct.

Spider-man: Homecoming; probably one of the best Marvel films so far I think? no real spoilers but cut anyway )

My major complaints are: too much second-hand embarrassment for me to cope with and I was very tired so it felt like it was going on for too long.

Got home with the intention of taking a nap then going to the gym; what actually happened is that I was woken up around 9pm by Jess coming home from work, took another half an hour to get awake, decided I wasn't going anywhere, demanded pizza in celebration of Jess getting a promotion (but not a pay raise for three months because lol what is her fucking job even), ate that, and drugged myself back to sleep again.

But I went to the gym TODAY and have duly Mastered the GOBLIN SQUAT so whatever. And now I need to go do writing things.

Still looking for a proof-reader for Heavy though.

my aunt karyn and me

Jul. 17th, 2017 10:38 pm
lauramoon: (carly: this motherfucker here)
[personal profile] lauramoon
heresluck: (book)
[personal profile] heresluck
Tracy K. Smith is fast becoming one of my all-time favorite poets. Finding two new poems in this month's Nation was a gift.

The United States Welcomes You

Why and by whose power were you sent?
What do you see that you may wish to steal?
Why all this dancing? Why do your dark bodies
Drink up the light? What are you demanding
That we feel? Have you stolen something? Then
What is that leaping in your chest? What is
The nature of your mission? Do you seek
To offer a confession? Have you anything to do
With others brought by us to harm? Then
Why are you afraid? And why do you invade
Our night, hands raised, eyes wide, and mute
As ghosts? Is there something you wish to confess?
Is this some enigmatic type of test? What if we
Fail? How and to whom do we address our appeal?


— Tracy K. Smith
in The Nation, July 17/24 2017
lauramoon: (Default)
[personal profile] lauramoon

Stolen from bookishgeek.



You are not easily impressed. Guys love how much of a challenge you are, but you don’t usually give them the time of day. People probably think you are a bitch, but you like to think of it as you don’t take BS from anyone. You’re the gorgeous girl who every guy would love to get to know, but unless he can break down those walls he doesn’t stand a chance. Source



You're feisty and while that can sometimes get you in trouble, for the most part, it just means that people are wooed by your charismatic personality. You've got some resentment in you for how you've been treated either by your family or society, but that anger only fuels you to go out and subvert expectations in your professional and personal life. Speaking of your personal life, you probably also have a really great pet that's utterly devoted to you. (Rajah forever!) Source



You hold yourself and everyone around you to high standards that you refuse to compromise. You know exactly who you are and what you stand for, and you insist that others respect you for the person you are and not who they want you to be. People love you for your witticisms and your generous heart. Source

i'm surrounded by your embrace

Jul. 17th, 2017 12:34 pm
musesfool: han/leia from TFA (stlil crazy after all these years)
[personal profile] musesfool
Five things make a post:

A. I had a most excellent birthday dinner on Saturday evening. L and I went to Uva, which I had never been to before and it was so worth it. They have an adorable little courtyard in back, so we sat outside and drank a lot of wine (A LOT OF WINE) and ate like queens.

2. I was going to make myself a birthday cake, but then I was sad and also I wasn't sure it would be good and I didn't want to make a cake that big and have it be terrible (because then I couldn't foist half of it off on my coworkers). That would just be one disappointment too far. I still want to make it though. It looks amazing. And terrible. But mostly amazing. (I would have made fresh whipped cream though instead of using Cool Whip. I'm not much of a food snob, but fresh whipped cream just tastes better, regardless of authenticity.)

iii. The A Wrinkle in Time trailer looks fantastic.

D. Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Behind the Scenes. I might have burst into tears when Carrie Fisher said, "It's all about family," but you can't prove it!

5. I posted a story for my birthday:

Sing a New Song (@AO3)
Star Wars; Vader, Leia, Luke, Obi-Wan; AU; g; 4,130 words
In which Ben has a bad feeling, Luke makes it to Tosche Station, Leia takes control of the situation, and no one understands how hard Vader's life is.

This is the sequel to Just a Little Bit of History Repeating but probably not the one that people were asking for. *hands* I'm probably never going to write a long involved epic AU where they actually overthrow Palpatine. I'm just not that kind of writer. I just want the fraught family reunions where the Skywalkers get to be all ~dramatic~ at each other.

I don't usually write multiple POV stories anymore, but this one seemed to require it, so we could see Luke's "Wtf?!", Obi-Wan's "I have a bad feeling about this," Leia's ability to roll with the weirdness (and also ameliorate the tension between Vader and Obi-Wan), and Vader's misguided belief that he has control of anything, let alone his kids.

As I said in an endnote on AO3, the title is from U2's "40" (and not the Mountain Goats' "Psalms 40:2"*) and I kind of feel like the title of the concluding story of this little trilogy should also come from Psalm 40 but right now it's tentatively titled "How Soon Is Now" for ~reasons. I still have to figure out how to actually write it. Because I couldn't leave Ahsoka out! The story was originally going to end with that - I felt like Vader saying "no, there's someone else" was kind of analogous to Yoda's "no, there is another," but given that it was Luke's section, I thought he ought to have the last word.

Anyway, I like how it turned out, and I'm glad some other people did too. *g*

*which I still think should have a SPN vid made to it, and from which I already used the title "If I'm Not Beyond Repair" for Bucky, or you know I'd be using that for a Star Wars story ("Lord, send me a mechanic, if I'm not beyond repair" could definitely be a Vader and Luke story, you know? Though I could probably do something with "in the burning fuselage of my days" or even "feel bad about the things we do along the way, but not really that bad" if the right story idea struck. Huh. *adds them to the list of titles to use someday*)

***

skull crusher

Jul. 16th, 2017 10:01 pm
lauramoon: (val: drowning in the wishing well)
[personal profile] lauramoon
I have been in bed 80% of the past 48 hours because my goddamn head is caving in and nothing can touch the pain and basically I want to burn everything.

(no subject)

Jul. 16th, 2017 10:24 pm
apiphile: (i hate that thing you love)
[personal profile] apiphile
Been off for Ethiopian food and coffee (A+) and accidentally walked in on an enthused lecture on an abstract painting that was also taking place in the restaurant; eavesdropped on a woman explaining her experiences on mushrooms and also overcomplicating some Straight Dude Behaviour from a guy she'd been on a date with (LADY HE'S JUST BEING DISORGANISED IT'S NOT DEEP); sulked about George Alec Effinger being dead.

Have been editing things on the train at shit o'clock in the morning; had a weird but hilarious dream:

Well in my dream it was a guy called Roy. There was already someone in the bathroom trying to fix his hair and he was not hugely thrilled by Roy barging in all I need to shit // Roy lowers himself onto the seat. Dude keeps fixing his hair and chatting while Roy is there naked from the waist down and straining with a can you believe this fucking guy face on // Eventually he can take it no longer. He's sitting side on. Lifts his ass. Strains. Fires a massive clear silicon dildo out of his ass. It rebounds off the wall and hits hair guy in the face knocking him clean out // Roy rolls on the floor face down and complaining about how much his ass hurts while you [Marika] and I shriek with laughter // I'm visiting from foreign lands. I start telling him about how in my country we have stuff to help with the ass pain. At first he's like fuck off leave me alone but he gets hopeful. I'm like Roy you can buy it anywhere, they sell it at train stations // So he cranes his head up like what what and I go IT'S CALLED LUBE ROY

Marika informs me that this is Highly Likely.

(I am assuming that my post about Bent disappeared into the aether.)

Also I need to go see Susanne it's been too long (and I left a thing at her place).

(no subject)

Jul. 15th, 2017 10:52 pm
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
So I'm editing something for submission atm and it has to be quite short which means I have to abandon such fantastic passages as:

"All working," Alana said, pinching her lower lip. "Camera three is slightly misaligned but I don't think that's such a big problem as all that. Have you got the Squeezy Thing?"
"It's a remote clasping facilitator," Euan corrected, looking around. "It costs half a million quid."
"Squeezy Thing," Alana repeated, her nose almost touching the monitors. "I want to test it while we're still in light."


and as I am enoying my readthrough I'm thinking I'm going to keep the original and then fucking finish it as the novella-length thing it was originally intended as, because by the time I actually finish it the statute of limitation or whatever the official term is (exclusive publishing rights I think) will probably have expired anyway even if it DOES get accepted.

A Short List Of Small Goals Which Are Hopefully Less Unreasonable Than My Usual Goal Lists

+ learn how to pratfall properly
+ relatedly, sort out whatever the fuck the problem is with my squats; Linds and I spent a while (ass naked because why not) trying to figure out where I'm going wrong and why I can't get my weight far enough forward not to lose my balance - his theory is that I subconsciously want to avoid any strain on my knees, which I reasonable because I don't really have kneecaps? - but I think the aim is to work on goblet squats (GOBLIN SQUATS OK, GOBLIN SOUNDS COOLER) since those will encourage me to lean forward
+ take an emergency-situation first aid course/learn how to deal with acid attacks so that I don't feel like I'm going to let people down in the event that this happens to them
+ take the Alexander technique for Dance class that City Academy are offering
+ dance taster classes (therefore I am only committing to a period of maximum three hours apiece)
+ go to Cambridge for breakfast at some point
+ catch up on Preacher S2
+ stop tactically-eating food just because it's free, or at least limit quantities instead of acting like i have to stockpile it. starting with sandwiches/bread-based products, even if i have to convince myself they'll make me ill (they're certainly not making me WELL)
+ finish The Grandmother Virus, one scene at a time. Increase the limit on the overall length since worrying about writing too much is, ironically, restricting me from writing anything at all.
+ actually talk through Tourist's Guide with someone who won't let me keep changing the subject.
+ learn how to stretch
musesfool: anakin's lightsaber (this is your life)
[personal profile] musesfool
Sing a New Song
Star Wars; Vader, Leia, Luke, Obi-Wan; AU; g; 4,130 words
In which Ben has a bad feeling, Luke makes it to Tosche Station, Leia takes control of the situation, and no one understands how hard Vader's life is.

Sequel to Just a Little Bit of History Repeating. Thanks to [personal profile] silveronthetree for cheerleading!

Read it on AO3.

Sing a New Song )

~*~

Feedback is the best present!

~*~
musesfool: ultimate spider-man (what a good boy)
[personal profile] musesfool
Happy birthday to me! Maybe there'll be a story later? If I can wrangle all the characters into cooperating? Skywalkers! *hands*

I was woken up at about 5 am by the chirping of the smoke/CO2 detector. It needs a new battery. Because that never happens during the day when you could easily replace it. So I have to run to CVS in a bit to get that.

So yesterday, I did an online HIPAA training and then had my mid-year check-in lunch with boss3. Which went well but was also kind of awkward because she ordered prosecco to toast my birthday and then I had to be like, and yes, my co-op application was denied. (She wrote a recommendation for me.) So she smoothly switched to "then maybe this glass of wine will help ease that pain." *snerk* I had an excellent cheeseburger and fries (the fries at Odeon are great) and for dessert, the strawberry-rhubarb crumble with buttermilk ice cream, which was fantastic. And probably not going to be on the menu much longer as rhubarb season is coming to a close.

When I gave L. the news, she insisted we meet up for dinner even though we are going to dinner tonight, and since I was already going to be on the UWS because I was going to see Spider-Man: Homecoming (I hadn't intended to, but my niece saw it and was excited about it, and so I couldn't resist), we met up after the movie so she could commiserate with me. It was nice, despite the fact that the table behind us had three or four little kids who were completely out of control running around and shrieking. She wanted to complain but I didn't let her. I mean, if I had known, I wouldn't have agreed to take the table (there was a choice) but I didn't know, and ugh, who wants unpleasantness? Even if parents should do a better job of corralling their kids in public, especially in tight spaces. At least one of them thanked us for our forbearance when they left.

As for the movie, I liked it. I didn't think it was necessary, and as much as I love Peter Parker (and you know I do), I feel like it should have been a Miles Morales movie (I mean, was Ned not basically Ganke?) and also I kind of felt terrible for Donald Glover.

I personally really liked Amazing Spider-Man, and this movie didn't quite match the emotional response I had to that one. Otoh, in this one, the teenagers mostly looked like teenagers, and it also looked like the real world in terms of diversity in the high school.

spoilers )

I guess I better go to CVS now.

***

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hollyslowly: TOS; Kirk looking down, Spock looking at Kirk. (Default)
Holly

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