Administrative: hiya!

Hello to rubrchick, loneprism, onyxrising, and brother_bliss, who have all added me lately. *waves*

loneprism is, of course, local, as witness the insanity at hinoai's party.

onyxrising is an old friend from back home, and I am his LJ sire. (Sorta like vampires, hee.)

brother_bliss evidently comes via the Nexus of 'Song in some way. It is quite possible that rubrchick comes of there too.


Have done several friendings/friendbacks despite the agonizingly crowded state of my friends page of late. Shall probably be doing some cleaning, figuring out who I tend to skim these days.

note_to_self

Put toys away...

Allergies

Take the meds, dammit.

Night songs

Every now and then, scraps of song come to me. Some have been haunting me for years.

I used to title this fragment "In the Silence of the Night", but just now realized that it was mistitled. It needs to be "Souls I Used to Know".

The words are still working their way out of me, like the bone fragments from Mama's finger. (Mama got her finger slammed in a heavy door, and some 15-20 years later, bone fragments began to work their way out of the old wound and the finger had to be re-operated on.) Someday, they'll be fit to sing in front of others.

For now...

---

It was late night, far too late on a college weekend, the worst diehard nightowl nicotine addicts braving the cold outside by the dorm entrance. With them, but a ways apart, a girl, not smoking, staring up at the stars. Orange light from the dorm lights, the streetlights. She holds a stick of incense, lit, and watches the patterns the smoke makes in the freezing air. She has no mittens; she tucks her fingers up into the sleeves of her heavy down jacket.

In the smoke of her incense, in the idle chatter of the smokers, she feels the names of her dead. They aren't, strictly speaking, hers, but she's taken responsibility for their memory. No one else will. There's no one else to give them to. She can't do right by them. She can't honor their lives as they deserve. She did not know them. She can't dismiss them. She hasn't the power to send them onward. They're hers, for as long as she can bear them, and they her.

Dreams

Something about a train? or a bus? and I was with people from the List [lmbujold] and then Darkside was present (not physically yet) and then That Woman called, and I had to field her; she was worried (something about her mother's funeral and someone, I think a sisterfriend of hers, behaving strangely, and I had to talk her through some counseling basics).

Then I was at the place where votania's family used to all live, and it was just her father now, and things were being made ready, and then Darkside was there in person, and I went with him, and he was showing off a little, and ...gha. It's just under the surface!

And he was doing the things that shy geek guys do when they're doing the mating dance, and he showed me the article about him that had been published back in 2001 (an interview, a xeroxed copy) and it had some stuff more esoteric than what I thought he'd be comfortable sharing with the world. But it was evidently OK in that underwater society. (Did I mention it was an underwater society? No? It must have slipped my mind, because that was when I noticed in the dream. Dennis K. or some other friend of his was there, and there was discussion of hooking up systems for a game, which was done via some networking thing that combined RJ-45 connectors, cat5 cable, and vampire taps. There was then a lecture of how a strong draw on the line just after the source would fuck it up for all. (This was, unfortunately, how it had been set up.)

And then Darkside wanted to show me this vehicle he'd made, either have me drive it or show me him driving it, and he'd built it himself, and it was "perfectly safe". More with the veiled flirting. I demurred, thinking it not safe, at least not for me, and he started it amidst a spray of sparks, which he expertly banished from around him -- and sent flying in all directions. Including at me. And I was not as good at that as he was. I ducked and put up my arm. He saw, and came over, and 'rescued' me, and soothed that this was the underwater version of air pollution. Little bubbles with fine copper screens.

And then I was going about at some sort of extension of the underwater society, and there was discussion of glamourbombing, and spraypainting "Believe" on trees. Palm trees. And then we were at a house, and then we wound up leaving, and stopped by another house, inhabited by some older/wiser people and Mr. Secretary, who was torn on some decision or other in that delicious way that only gayboys can do effectively. Outside (before the decision) there were Toulouse and Friendly, and their ducklings and goslings! Tou-tou was in ... rare form. Hiss, hiss, grinch.

And then Mama was driving down the road in the Blue Truck, and I had to explain glamourbombing to her.

And then I was walking through a sort of horror carnival, and Scully was on the cellphone about something. It was a very show-and-tell carnival.

And then I was walking through a hellishly disgustingly dusty construction zone.

And then I was getting screened for something very like plasma donation, only it was a different screening process. This was just down the street from the dust factory. And it was done outside, with a porch and a booth for the screening. And lung function was one of the tests, and I kept coughing because it was so dusty, and the lady was thinking my lungs were borderline for passing. And I explained the dust.

(no subject)

Oh yeah. And while things were being made ready for the funeral, I was looking at the bookshelves, and they were looking for some book numbered 4.0 with the numbered books, and it eventually turned out to be the dictionary, but I was looking at the sparkly series on the one shelf, in the sorts of hardbacks one gets from the SF Book Club, and I was commenting. It was the Earth's Children series, only it was going by a different name, and there was far more of the sparkly rainbow unicornish stuff going on, but it was the same series and there was a bit of an argument about it. And it was, like, books 26, 27, and some upwards. Which is a lot. And evidently in my universe things were a little different. The argument was stopped by the finding of Dictionary 4.0.

(no subject)

Gemini Horoscope for week of August 14, 2003

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/gemini.html

Gemini (May 21-June 20)
Can you be a dissatisfied rebel and exuberant lover of life at the same time? Can you identify all the things that are wrong without losing your bemused tolerance? I think you can, especially this week. You won't have any role models to draw from, though, so you'll have to trust your intuition and the following advice: Be a happy bitch! A playful protester! A sweet-tempered complainer! The goodies will come to you if you overthrow the status quo with inventiveness and compassion.

---

Cancer Horoscope for week of August 14, 2003

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/cancer.html

Cancer (June 21-July 22)
I'm sure you've had the experience of a song popping into your head and refusing to leave, as if it had taken one of your brain circuits hostage. Usually it's a catchy tune you've heard recently on the radio, but now and then it's an old song you haven't thought of in a long time. The former is a nuisance, but the latter may be an oracular message from your unconscious mind -- a helpful hint, like a vivid dream, that can clue you in to a not-yet-fully-bloomed truth. I predict you will be the lucky recipient of such an oracle at least twice in the coming week.

School, Little Fayoumis

There were some difficulties with staying on task yesterday. He was much better today. His complaint that he forgot his lunchbag at home is relatively unfounded; he does buy his lunch at school, it's just that he has this really cool Darth Maul lunchbag that I gave him, and he doesn't have to bring it.

At home, he now gets a movie provided he made his day at school, with the old arrangement. He is still restricted from his toys except for certain bits of time, until he earns the privelege back with good behavior (like doing as told when told and not pitching a royal hissyfit over it). It's... painful. But if he doesn't have his sword or cars or guys, he'll happily play with a cat comb and a pencil. He's got a heck of an imagination, which is a good thing.

...Joy. FBI vs. Branch Davidians in Waco, TX.

http://www.newsmax.com/articles/?a=2000/4/30/155105

Full story lest it disappear, though it's been out so long that this may be unlikely: ( Read more... )

I'm about to the point where if anyone in a governmental position opens their mouth, my bullshit alarm flashes.

Things that make me giggle randomly: the Greenway list

• Greenway


• Scooby Doo


• my necklace


• various RPGs not limited to D&D and BESM


• the smell of a certain kind of fabric softener


• the smell of leather


• certain quips


• crowbars


• Freeway signs mentioning Los Angeles


• the freeway leading from Mesa to Phoenix


• the 101, especially at rush hour


• Justine Dr.


• 56th street


• a certain company


• "All too easy."


• Darth Vader


• "Sorry for what, being human?"


• little grey sedans


• Lord of the Rings


• references to Draco Malfoy


• Paranoia


• Valentine's Day


• Gundam Wing: The Endless Waltz


• "White Reflection"


• Bloodrayne


• Qwest Messaging on the caller ID


• bonk! "Reflected."


• "Yes no maybe"

Fwd: "Things I Would Do If I Become The Good King"

Recently Posted On rec.arts.sf.movies

While it is clear that Evil Overlords, and even Heroes, need advice from time to time, it would also seem self-evident that those Monarchs for whom power is a responsibility rather than a goal have a pretty poor track record as well. Therfore I am compelled to present:

Things I Would Do If I Become The Good King

I will maintain a functional and regularly drilled army, a top-of-the-line intelligence service, and a good working relationship with any local Heroes.

( Et cetera. )

Fwd: Tao Te Chip

Linked from technopaganism: the Tao Te Chip

Here are some tantalizing excerpts from the newest computer-assisted translation of Lao Tzu's famous

TAO TE CHIP

The Way of the One and the Zero

With all due apology to Stephen Mitchell, whose translation was the basis for this, and, of course, Lao Tzu.

Written by Jeffrey Sorensen. This document is not copyrighted and is in the public domain. The author respectfully requests that his attribution and apology be retained during reproduction.

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For those who have never experienced it? This is what I sound like on heavy caffiene.

BOOM-BANG-A-BANG *wham-pft* (HONK!) aiee caaah aiee caaah hiccup-toot buzz bamm! bip-boing-boing

(via the sound effect generator)

In the 'Ow, that's gotta hurt' category...

[Poll #168227]

( Okay, no cheating now... )

For all this bonkers news, there's got to be some good stuff...

I noticed today that my left foot is back to normal-sized again. There's some residual puffiness and bruising, but it's nothing like it was a month ago. Go, my foot!

Sunrise, sunset

hinoai and I saw the same thing -- the beautiful sunset as the rain came in, with the clouds glowing all orange as the rain started sweeping down. The gods' fluorescent lights looked like they were due replacement, as the clouds were flashing on and off, white neon, jagged bolts arcing between clouds here and there, and every now and then a long bolt down to the ground.

I walked up to the bus stop from the mall feeling the wind, watching the sky, looking for lightning. Lovely sunset. Reminded me of home, only warm orange instead of flaming orange and pink.

As I waited at the bus stop, a single drop hit my right eyebrow, right where I would get it pierced if I was going to. As the rain got more pronounced, I walked for the little shelter and set my bag of library books and overshirt down on the bench, then stood happily in the warm rain, letting it shine my skin, soak my hair, soak my clothes. I loved it. My glasses got all fogged and splattered. Beautiful rain.

What to get, what to get?

Mama gave me some money to cover needed things. Obviously, new bras are way up on the list. But after the absolutely necessary's covered, I want to get something special just for me.

[Poll #168264]

Optical Mice

A cat does not make a very good mousepad. Nope. Not even for an optical mouse.

(Memories... Darkside used either my arm or my leg as a mousepad, once. I think he was trying to tease me.)