a fool's musings

Boreas by Waterhouse
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...

Warning: Adult Content

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the five Ws, or, all about me

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current mood: current mood

"pathological and unbalanced"

Items of Interest

    Music
  • Walk On - U2
  • Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
  • If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar
  • Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet
  • Town Called Malice - The Jam
  • One - U2
  • The Space Between - DMB
    Books
  • Lord of the Rings
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  • The Neely Trilogy
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  • Waking the Moon

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08.06.02 - 3:41 p.m.

Mine, all mine, my precioussss...

I now hold in my grubby little fist a widescreen DVD edition of Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring.

How excited am I?

I'm squeeing like the litlle fangrrl I am, internally at least.

I called my dad to gloat.

I am so sad.

Tonight, after the doctor's appt, we will have Tolkien.

Legolas. Aragorn. GANDALF. Hell, even Boromir (as played by Sean Bean ONLY. Still loathe him in the book).

SQUEE!

Plus, oh, oh, I can't wait, The Two Towers preview.

You know what that means?

Ents.

And

and

FARAMIR!

Whee!

Numfar, do the Dance of Joy!

[inigo montoya] There will be blood tonight! [/inigo]

Or popcorn at least.

::watches clock avidly::

~victoria



[current mood: giddy]
[current music: Beautiful Day - U2]
[random quote: \"One ring to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them.\"]

~*~

08.06.02 - 10:38 a.m.

surefire cure for insomnia, or skip this entry unless really bored

Insomnia.

It haunts me sometimes.

This is the result.

If you are ever in need of sleep and can't seem to get it, read this post. *nods* It'll knock you right out.

So I couldn't sleep, and I ended up doing something so amazingly boring and pointless that I just *had* to share it with y'all.

I counted how many titles began with each letter of the alphabet (obviously, "the" and "a" don't count).

I kid you not.

Well, originally I just wanted to see if I'd managed a title for every letter, but then things got out of hand, as they often do when I'm not sleeping.

"C" is the overwhelming winner, with 23 stories having titles beginning with a "C".

"T" is next with 15, then "L" and "A" with 12 (though if I sever the "Alter-Eighteen" from Chateau Blanc and INescapable X, then "A" is at 10, "C" is at 24 and "I" is at 9), "S", "N" and "F" come next with 10, "R" and "D" with 9, "I" with 8, "O" surprisingly comes next with 7, then "B" and "G" with 6 stories each, "M" is alone with 5, words stargin with "E", "H", "P", "U" (due to the Unspoken RR mostly) and "W" each begin 4 titles, "J" and "Q" have three apiece, "K" has 2, and "V", "X", "Y" and "Z" each have one story title to their credit.

Yes. I really am that boring.

I'm trying to think of some way that this could be meaningful, but pretty much it was me trying to put myself to sleep, and it was fairly successful.

So I recommend it as a course of action for anyone with insomnia and enough stories to make it interesting. And if you can figure out some way of making it mean something, that'd be fun too. *G*

Ooh!

I forgot!

the zenzine, Easter Egg Vinegar in Your Eye has been updated. Melina writes about bringing the fluff.

As this is a subject near and dear to my heart, go read. Learn.

Vive le fluff!

Also, I've just been fiddling with the colors in the guestbook. I'm not sure if I like what I did, so I may fiddle some more.

Hey, it beats alphabetizing and counting your fics, right? *snerk*

~victoria



link

[current mood: headachy]
[current music: Lonesome Day - Bruce]
[random quote: \"Occasionally, I'm callous and strange.\" ~Willow, BtVS]

~*~

08.05.02 - 10:35 p.m.

updated the Muse's Fool

Updated the site tonight, adding the two short shorts, As I Lay Dying and Rush.

So sleepy.

~victoria

[current mood: sleepy]
[current music: Sweet's Song - Hinton Battle]
[random quote: I can bring whole cities to ruin and still have time to get a soft shoe in.]

~*~

08.05.02 - 5:35 p.m.

tense intensity

Jenn adds to the present tense discussion (as seen in Thamiris' and LaT's livejournals) (and I comment *g*) .

I've talked about this before, most notably here, here, here, here, and most memorably, here.

Okay, 2 of those entries are about style in general and not tense in particular, but it comes up, and well, yes, I am eating crow on the 2nd person thing, but at least I'm mostly consistent.

It's not about disliking present tense in and of itself. It's disliking a surfeit of it - of anything. If everything I'm reading is in a similar style, I get bored. That's me. It's not everyone. I'm not trying to *snigger* lay down the law about writing in present tense. I've posted two stories in the last 24 hours and both are in present tense.

Which was a conscious decision on my part - at least once I started writing and seeing how the story went.

But I am saying that present tense seems to have become the default setting in Smallville fic, and that it may not always be the best tense in which to tell a particular story, but sometimes authors may feel pressured to write in it, because that's the "norm" of the fandom. It's almost a stylistic fanon (to use Rex's phrase), and well, I'm anti-fanon for the most part.

Anyhow, go read what these lovely and intelligent women have to say.

I'm going home.

~victoria



link

[current mood: pensive]
[current music: Golden Slumbers - The Beatles]
[random quote: When you look back at this, I think you'll find the mistake was touching my stuff.]

~*~

08.05.02 - 1:39 p.m.

X2 spoilers

A heaping helping of X2 spoilers up in the LJ.

Don't click if you don't want to know.

Okay, they're fairly vague, but still - a description of the trailer and some character info...

I'm steeling myself already for [spoiler] the ridiculous inclusion of more L/J/S nonsense and a Bobby/Rogue romance [end spoiler].

I just hope that Famke Janssen has more say over her character than I think.

~victoria



link

[current mood: optimistic and spoiled]
[current music: Dazed and Confused - Led Zep]
[random quote: \"You don't know or you don't care?\" \"Pick one.\"]

~*~

08.05.02 - 11:55 a.m.

Rush

Back at work.

Sigh.

Didn't sleep well last night. Had the leg fidgets again. I hate that. I have to get up and walk around because I can't keep my legs still, and I have this weird ache.

I bet it's because I didn't bring my vities on vacation, and it's been a week, and they say Restless Leg Syndrome can be caused by a lack of B complex vitamins.

So I got about 4 hours sleep, got to work, and my dwarf index is four - Hungry, Sweaty, Grumpy and Sleepy.

Or should that be my smurf index, as there is no Hungry or Sweaty amongst the seven dwarves?

Though technically, there's no Sweaty Smurf, but there should be.

Was discussing Smurf porn a couple weeks ago, but then decided even I am not that disturbed.

DD, Bethy and I figured this is what it would sound like:

Smurf me! Oh, Handy! Smurf me harder!

Yes, I'm scared too.

(now all you freaks looking for Smurf porn on Google can find it here. Still no Simpsons incest though. That just gives me the wiggins.)

Anyhow, I'm here and they've put a new guy in the cube next to me.

When I started this job, I was alone - it was me and three empty cubes. Now it's all filled in.

I don't like it.

How am I supposed to goof off with someone sitting RIGHT next to me?

Not that it's stopped me today.

I'm supposed to be doing about 12 letters, and what am I doing instead?

Trying to write a smutfic in 50 words. Well, how could I resist a challenge like that, even if I ignored the actual opening lines we were given. I follow my own rules. *snerk*

I went over the limit, so I went for the drabble instead. I've also completely naturally used the "c" word and sort of shocked myself by that.

Huh.

I took it out, though. Not because it was the "c" word, but because I was over by 4 words, and that phrase was unnecessary.

And okay, maybe because I'm not comfortable with the "c" word in a loving environment.

::shakes head::

I just posted it but you lucky readers can get it here:

Rush

Slick, wet heat.

The brush of hair against her peaked nipples.

Straining up against him, legs locked around his hips.

The exquisite pressure spiraling up, swelling and breaking through her whole body. Eyes closed as the world explodes into bliss.

It's a rush like nothing else she's ever felt.

"Logan!" she cries as she comes, clenching her muscles around his cock.

He growls his own release into her mouth, the scarf between them so sheer as to be non-existent, then rests his head on her breasts, sated.

"Love you," he whispers, gathering her close.

"Love you," Marie answers, already half-asleep.

___
end

Huh. I don't know how erotic it actually is, but it's sex in 100 words.

Since I've written nothing but gen lately, it was nice to get back into the smut groove. Make sure I haven't lost the touch. *snerk* Not that I've every really had it, but you know, sometimes I like to think my sex scenes are erotic.

And hey, sometimes they actually are, if people's responses are anything to go by. I can't always tell.

Sounds crazy, don't it?

I mean, you think I'd know if it was sexy or not, but usually, after that first rush of sensuality in writing it, I'm far more concerned about mundane things like grammar and logic and making sure no one's got three legs or four hands or that she doesn't have a cock and he a clit (if it's het) or that the pronouns make sense (if it's slash).

It loses some of power to arouse when you're worrying about stuff like that.

At least, for me it does.

I don't know how that goes for other people. Anyone care to share?

***

In non-writing news, Diana has asked me to be Godmother to one of the twins, which is quite exciting. *g*

I went on a huge shopping spree on Friday for the kids - little girl clothes are the *best*. Sigh.

~victoria



link



[current mood: busy]
[current music: Oye Como Va - Santana]
[random quote: \"He's becoming a huge pile of ash! This is like tanning gone horribly wrong.\" From Omar's recap of Reaper]

~*~

08.05.02 - 12:17 a.m.

inspiration update

Thanks to Devil Doll and Diane H., I now think I'm going to be able to 1. write the sequel to Gilded Cages, that's been on hold for over a year, and 2. finish Achin' to Be, which has been on hold even longer.

It'll be nice to finish some older stuff.

I think one reason I've been at somewhat of a loss lately is that most of hte fics I used to fall back on when I was blocked are done.

Except, of course, for Consumption.

And while I'm enjoying working on Prodigal and FIfth Wheel - and yes, Liar's Poker has been getting some long looks as well - it feels weird even now not to have NotDL or Object or Time's Fool or, god help me, Flirtation 101 to work on. And I posted F101 in October of last year. I feel like I should still have it hanging around.

Weird.

::shakes head::

Anyway, this little inspirational update has been brought to you by the letter D and the number 9.

I'm sure you'd all been waiting with bated breath for this information. *snerk*

~victoria



[current mood: inspired]
[current music: hum of the air conditioner]
[random quote: Wish I could say the right words to lead you through this land Wish I could play the father and take you by the hand]

~*~

08.04.02 - 9:29 p.m.

the Sunday Night Willies

I have the serious Sunday night willies.

Yeesh.

I have to go to work tomorrow.

I hate that feeling.

I haven't had it *at all* with this job (which is one reason I love it so - my last three jobs ended with such heinous cases of fear and loathing), but this is the first time I've gone on vacation since I started, and I'm just hoping there isn't a backlog of phone and email messages.

Of course, there was a temp in, so there *shouldn't* be, but while my mind is rational, my stomach is not.

Sigh.

~victoria



[current mood: depressed]
[current music: silence]
[random quote: Wish I could trust that it was just this once, but I must do what I must...]

~*~

08.04.02 - 3:44 p.m.

balance is the key

Big Cordelia dream last night.

I dreamt that they opened a store devoted to her in my building, and I just couldn't decide what to buy.

Kate Bolin was in charge of designing all the products.

I had already bought, through BEMC, which was partnering with ME and *gasp* Disney to put out this line of Cordelia Chase products, an anklet with a picture of her on it - there was a dangly heart with an enamel portrait of Cordy. Or Charisma. I'm not sure which. Maybe it was the Charisma Carpenter store, and since she hasn't done anything else, everything was Cordelia.

There were leather bags and organziers, towels and sheets and chocolates and umbrellas and prefab houses all with pics of CC and Cordy quotes emblazoned on them.

It was quite the experience.

In other news, I wrote a whole long thing on the dilemma of offering to beta for someone new over in the LJ.

I've also been thinking, quite modestly actually, that what I'm good at, as a writer, I'm really good at, but what I suck at I'm really truly just *bad* at.

The question came up on zendom before I left for vacation, and this was my response:

1) What is the first story you wrote that you still feel really good about? The first one that stands the test of time? You don't have to think it's flawless -- but the first one you'd still show off.

Heh. My first fanfic. Enough for Now. It think it's actually one of my best stories. It was rigorously edited and re-edited and looking back on it, it really works.

2) What do you think you do well as a writer? What do you think you do badly? Real modesty and real pride -- let's have it!

Well: Dialogue, big emotional revelations/confrontations, characterization, navel-gazing. I'm the queen of the plotless character ramble and the vignette.

Badly: Action, plot, physical description. Also, I tend to rush the endings of longer stories. And I'm bad with metaphors. I get tangled up in them or carry them too long.

I'm thinking of the old sports cliche that you're never as good as your best game and never as bad as your worst game, and there may be truth in that (there definitely is in sports, where so many other factors - like your opponent - come into play), but a good story will stand on its own merits, long after the author has moved on.

I mean, I can definitely see the flaws in all my stories. I can be my own worst critic, though I do have my ego days, where I think, I'm the best damn thing you've ever seen, world, even if you don't know it yet.

And you know, it frustrates me to no end when other people don't fall in line with my ego.

I really am bitter, and I don't think I'm good at hiding it, but whatever.

I know I can turn a pretty sentence on occasion, and also cut to the heart of an emotional morass, when I'm interested.

My problem is that I lose interest easily. Which is why I suck at action, I think.

I'm not a good one for catching plot holes, either.

I can nitpick with the best of 'em, but my strengths as a beta reader (and a writer) tend toward line editing (grammar, punctuation), word choice, characterization and emotional resonance. I'm good at telling if something feels real or natural, or if it feels like something a character would never, ever say, even if it's what the author wants the character to say.

There's a difference, you know?

So I think I'm bad at action/plot etc. because it just doesn't catch fire in my imagination. I'm definitely far more interested in conversation - in what people say (and what they don't say), how they say it, and who they say it to.

I'm bad at physical description for the same reason. Since I'm not visually-oriented, it just doesn't hold my attention.

I can tell you what someone smelled like, years after I knew them, or what their hair felt like, or how their voice sounded under various circumstances, but I don't remember what color their eyes were, or if they were 5'9 or 6'2.

It just doesn't register with me, really.

I mean, honestly, if I had to lose a sense, it'd be sight. That sounds horrible, and I'm not in any way trivializing blind people's handicaps or traumas or whatever the hell is the correct term these days, but the thought of never hearing music again just disturbs me far more than not being able to watch a movie.

I mean, there's braille, so I could still read, but once the hearing is gone, there's not much beyond pure vibration that you can get from music.

It's an interesting exercise, to imagine yourself without one of the senses we rely upon so much, you know? I've done it on occasion for an hour or so, trying to figure out what Rogue must feel like, wearing gloves and never touching skin, or Scott, having to tape his eyes shut for fear of damaging anything and everything.

And I've gone really far afield with the rambling, huh?

Anyhow, since I'm not visually or plot-oriented, I find these things slow going in writing. I like *reading* them, but my mind just doesn't *work* like that, you know?

I have a theory (and it's not bunnies, btw *g*) that I'm still turning over in my head, so I won't say anything yet, but I think that stretching as a writer is good, so is playing to your strengths. It's finding the balance that keeps you interested that's key.

~victoria



link

[current mood: thoughtful]
[current music: Wish I Could Stay - ASH & AB]
[random quote: All things in moderation.]

~*~

08.03.02 - 11:00 p.m.

Snopes?

Whee!

Defining Moments Fic Archive.

Go. Read. Love.

Many, many ficlets of great goodness there. Definition by Marguerite and Now by Melymbrosia are two of my favorites. It doesn't even matter if you don't know the fandom - these are so short that you can just dip a toe in and get an idea of who these characters are.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Speaking of short fic - I wrote this in the car on the way home.

It's in the hands of the betas, but well, who knows when they'll get to it, what with vacations and other pressing real life matters to attend to?

So yeah, sad ficlet, with a cameo by... well, you'll see.

~*~

She knows it won't be long now; she can feel the cold settling into her bones.

She left religion behind long ago, the day she first kissed a boy and almost killed him. She doesn't worry about God or the devil, heaven or hell. She's had both here on earth; the good was so very good, and made that much more precious by the bad. She's learned, in her long life, the value of balance, and of living in the moment. Now she will choose her moment, and die.

As the gentle hand of her great-granddaughter brushes her hair -- completely white now, but still as soft as silk -- off her forehead, she smiles.

Death is simply a long sleep, she tells them, or she would if she could get the words out, but talking is so difficult now. Hibernation, not extinction. As long as I live in your hearts and memories, I will never truly die.

She hears a sharp bark of bitter laughter and knows he's here, that he knows what she's trying to say.

He kept her alive and with him for far longer than her natural threescore and ten, and she knows he would give himself to her fully if she let him, that she might live while he died. But she has no desire to live without him.

She made her decision long ago, when the wrinkles and the white hair became more difficult to banish, consuming too much of his strength to make her comfortable with the process.

And she's tired. So tired. All their friends are long gone, and their children, too, though grandchildren and great-grandchildren gather round her deathbed.

She sent him away, so he wouldn't have to watch her grow old and die while he remained young and virile, still many years from his end of days.

She has made sure he's tied to his children's children, and their children after them, the grizzled pack leader shouldering the responsibilities for the family. Otherwise, she knows he'll become what he fears most -- more beast than man.

Over the years, she's tried to soothe away that fear, but it remains, much as her own fear of being nothing but a parasite, living off other people's lives and energy has never truly faded.

Even love can't solve everything, but they've both learned that it can make the bad things bearable. He suffers her pain; she endures. Until now.

She tries to impart this wisdom to her granddaughter, an old woman now herself, but she finds her tongue tripping over the words.

She feels a shiver run through her, as though great wings beat slowly over her bed.

He's there instantly, as always attuned to her body. He lifts her and cradles her in his arms, as close to tears as she's ever seen him in their long life together. One look clears the room. They've all been around long enough to feel the force of their grandparents' love, and to recognize when their grandfather wants to be left alone.

His lips find her ear -- "Take me with you," he begs. "Please." But she shakes her head and squeezes his hand. "Marie," he says, and, "I love you."

She reaches up and gently strokes his cheek, her bare skin finally safe to touch after all these years, and they both know the end is upon them. She's too weak to take any more of him. She can only give, now, give him the words he needs to hear.

"Love you," she whispers, and she can see Death is waiting.

"Take your time," the young woman says. "I'm not going anywhere."

"So beautiful," Marie whispers as the lights begin to dim, and Logan murmurs, "Yes, you are." And then he stiffens, alert to Death's silent presence.

"Don't take her," he says. "Take me instead."

Death shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. You've already kept her longer than you should have."

"Stay," Marie whispers, her voice faint as the summer wind in the trees. "They need you."

She feels herself getting lighter, and then she's standing with Death, staring at the fragile old body that was hers, cradled in her lover's arms.

He weeps then, silently, his shoulders heaving as the tears drop gently on her face. She can feel his kisses even now.

She knows, oh, she knows so much now. The depth and breadth of his love for her is greater than even she had imagined, so great that he'll do as she's asked and remain a constant, comforting presence for the next two generations before he finally takes Death's hand and rejoins her.

Death puts an arm around her shoulders and says, "You were lucky."

"I know," Marie answers, as they leave for parts unknown. "I know.

~fin~

~*~

So the question is, well, there are two questions.

One: Is Death okay? Did I get her sorta right?

and

Two: Which title is better? "In My Time of Dying" or "As I Lay Dying"? I can't decide. Sigh. Shout-out to either Faulkner or Zeppelin. It's just a question of which I like better. And no, I don't think Marie is a Snopes. A Sartoris, maybe, or a Compson, but not a Snopes. That'd be too mean.

~victoria

link

[current mood: accomplished]
[current music: news in the background]
[random quote: \" My mother is a fish.\" ~As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner]

~*~

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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.

The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.

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