a fool's musings
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...
Warning: Adult Content
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10.14.02 - 6:29 p.m.
Running to Stand Still
I explain my Buffy theory over in the LJ.
And now, a little ficlet - still being worked on, so cut me some slack.
~*~
Running to Stand Still
She runs.
She stays out all night -- for days, even, sometimes.
They're used to it now; they worry -- both that they missed all the signs in the first place, and now that they accept the consequences as if they were inevitable. And maybe they were.
She doesn't know about that. She doesn't care.
She does know they worry, but she can't think of them, can't think of him. It's his fault.
That's what she'd say if questioned. It's Logan's fault. He didn't come back. One year turned into two turned into four and Goddammit, how long was she supposed to wait?
She always had the urge to run -- that's how she'd met him, after all -- and having him in her head just intensified it.
Problems at home? Run away.
Problems at school? Run away.
Problems that run away from you? That took a little longer to figure out.
Because a handful of postcards and twice-yearly conversations about nothing in particular were enough to drive her out into the night, looking for something to scratch the itch that lived just underneath her toxic skin, the sting of being lost, rejected, left behind.
And that something was far too easy to find, in the local clubs Jubes and Kitty dragged her to on the nights she waited for his calls. On street corners in the Bronx when she's feeling adventurous. From a friend of Remy's who's never visited the school, and who'd probably find his ass kicked back to the Big Easy if Remy found out about their little trysts.
She doesn't think about it anymore. Doesn't care about him anymore. All that matters now is the next score.
She uses the credit card Xavier gave her. He never questions her exorbitant expenditures -- local motels billing at hourly rates. She knows he knows -- they all know. But they haven't been able to reach her for so long. Jean makes sure there are always clean syringes in an unlocked closet down in the lab. Scott makes sure she comes home in one piece, watching over her, resigned, ashamed... guilty.
They all feel so guilty and she's tired of their looks and their shame. So she runs. Taps the needle. Hits the vein. Rides the rush down into blissful lethargy, waits for the drum of her heart to slow until she thinks she's dead.
It's the only time she stops running, the only way she's found to stand still without the pain.
This time, though, it's not Scott who brings her home.
She looks up and after four long years, he's there. He reaches for her, but she jumps to her feet, unsteady in the unfamiliar motel room.
"Don't touch me!"
He says something, but it's lost in the pounding of her blood in her ears.
"You promised," she screams, and "I hate you!"
She sees it in his eyes -- the same guilt and fear and resignation she's been running from for years.
But he's not Scott and he doesn't do guilt or regret or shame. Not where anyone can see, anyway.
He hauls her out of the motel and dumps her into the passenger seat of a trailer that could be the same exact one he had when she first met him, except that one blew up. And she wonders for a moment if Manny laced her stash with something else, because past and present are colliding and it's ruining her high.
"You running again?" he says mildly. He buckles her in, eyebrow raised and daring her to question, then starts the engine.
She tries to hit him, but he evades her easily.
"If you're going to run," he says, "you better learn how to do it right."
And he pulls out of the motel parking lot.
Her life is in motion again, and she's not sure where it's going. But for the moment, it's all right. She'll ride it out, and if things get rough, she can always start running again.
end.
~*~
Questions? Comments? Brilliant perceptions? All are welcome.
Originally, this ended with the line about running to stand still (hence the title), and I'm wondering if the little coda weakens things, or makes it more interesting.
~victoria
[current mood: cold, crampy]
[current music: silence]
[random quote: she will suffer the needle chill / she's running to stand still...]
~*~
10.13.02 - 11:39 p.m.
Tonight on Fox! When Fic Doesn't Work!
Get comfy. I have a feeling this is gonna be a long one.
The shower went well. Not that I had anything to do with that, though I gladly accepted credit when people thanked me. ::snort:: I just took down RSVPs. Mrs. L. and Amy did all the work. But it went well. Diana looks fabulous, considering she's 7.5 months pregnant with twins. She's carrying all up front.
The food was excellent... chorizos, plantanos, chicken in gravy, rice... sigh... I didn't drink any sangria. I figured I was handling the not-quite hungover from last night feelings pretty well, but best not to push my luck, you know?
As one of the godmothers, I actually had to work! I wrote down who gave each gift, so she can easily write her thank you notes. She got a lot of great stuff (twice *g*). I love baby clothes. Sigh...
They also made me make a speech, which was heinous. Public speaking and I don't mix. The good part is, half the people there didn't speak English, and I'm sure the lady who translated made me sound smarter and funnier than I was, especially as I was talking extemporaneously.
So that was a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
~*~
On to fannish things...
Happy Beta Appreciation Day!
I love Meg, Jen, Dot, Pete and Melissa, who beta for me all the time (HP fic excepted) and are the bestest ever, even when they drive me bugfuck nuts. And they do. Good betas should, occasionally, with the poking and the prodding and the "Are you insane? Why are you *doing* that? IT DOESN'T WORK!!!" (which is a topic we'll come to shortly).
I also want to thank the other people who've betaed or helped or just let me bounce ideas off them - Beth, Jenn, DD, Laura, Khaki, MaidenJedi, Gail, Match, aristottle, and Katta.
You guys all rock and I want to thank you for helping me out when I need it, whether it's a line edit, a plot point, or a good, hard kick in the ass.
You guys all provide feedback and support, so I know my stories are good, even if I don't always get the love to show for it.
And on *that* topic, first go read Te who says smart things, and then read Jenny-O, who says additional smart things.
Speaking of Te, the Last Five Stories thing...
Don't Turn Around: Logan/Scott PWP based on a picture from the trailer for X2. I really like the Logan characterization, such as it is (the *tap*. I dig the tap.), and even though it was just supposed to be a fun comfort-sex romp, it's, uh, sad. Cold comfort, I suppose. There's an air of loneliness pervading the story, in that these two men are fucking, but they're not close and they never will be. And if it were just about sex as a fun thing, that'd be fine. But it's not. It's about sex as a connection, as comfort, as a replacement for the love Scott's not getting from Jean, who's left to follow her own dream. And Logan -- Logan thinks he's offering comfort, or something, but it's just sex, and it's not enough to replace what they've both lost.
Huh. Depressing. I wrote a depressing PWP.
Which leads us to the story right after that, Unrequited, a short fic inspired by the song At Seventeen by Janis Ian. This fic is the opposite of everything I believe/feel/know to be true about the Logan/Rogue relationship as established in X-Men. It's one of the few things I've written that I just don't believe in. And that shows. It's also the story every anti-L/R person EVER wanted, and fuck it, I gave it to them, in all its brutal truth.
I don't know what the HELL I was thinking.
The next fic I finished was Stay, which completes a trilogy I'd started over a year ago. One of the few "Rogue goes after Logan" stories I've written (usually I like him coming home to her), and probably the best of them (mine, I mean, not the subgenre).
After that was the Sopranos-inspired Burying the Dead. Black comedy. Apparently, I'm not so good at it, because many people took it seriously.
But come on! The summary is, "Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies."
That should have been a tipoff right away.
My betas said I should have gone more over the top with stuff (like instead of having Rogue say that the doorman saw her, she should have said, "The doorman, Mrs. Kunkle in 4F, the Girl Scout troop who were selling cookies on the floor, and the Christmas carollers who stopped by for hot cocoa. Oh, and of course Janie, the maid.")
But that just seemed *too* obvious.
Ah well. Not many people get my humor. But I just loved the conversation: Tony: "Ralphie? You're with Ralphie?" Janice: "What gives you the right to get involved in my love life?" Tony: "I carried your last boyfriend out of your kitchen in a Hefty bag! I'd say that makes me involved!"
It screamed Logan/Rogue to me.
Which is possibly a little disturbing, considering Tony and Janice are brother and sister.
The last thing I've finished and posted is The Naming of Names, a Slayer-in-Earthsea story. Yeah, I know, wacky. And possibly quite presumptuous and arrogant to think I could even *begin* to write fic for Earthsea, because 1. lit fic ::shudder:: (yeah, LotR and HP, but see, I didn't fic 'em until the movies came out. The movie is already like a fanfic, because it's adapting one medium to another, with the input of many, many people, not just an author and his/her editor. And yes, that is a very lame rationalization for a gut feeling I have that media fanfic is okay but litfic is wrong. But this isn't the time or the place for that discussion.) and 2. LeGuin is one of my favorite authors, and amazingly talented to boot.
Also, a fic that has almost no audience, in a fandom that doesn't seem to exist, or that has no big online fanfic presence anyway. But the idea pinged after reading Twinkledru's Orturmoriwen, and who am I to say no when a story knocks on my door and demands to be written?
So that gives you the snapshot of my last five stories. I don't know what it says about me beyond that I'm still writing Logan/Rogue while slashing on the side and dabbling in odd fandoms on occasion.
The other thing I wanted to discuss was When Fic Doesn't Work.
Like I said above, a number of people who sent feedback on Burying the Dead didn't seem to get it, or they laughed and then were uncomfortable and weren't sure they were supposed to (they were).
Another fic that failed was Crave.
What I was trying to do there was show that Logan stuck around with alky!Rogue because he felt responsible. Not because he loved her (though he did), but because the things she's doing in that story -- drinking, sleeping around, flirting with danger, fighting -- are because of him. His appetites, his weaknesses that she absorbed and began craving herself, until it was too late and she was sucked down into addiction.
Logan, thanks to his healing factor, can't become addicted, or can't feel the effects of the addiction, anyway. He drinks like an alcoholic and smokes like a nicotine fiend and fights like an adrenaline junkie. Not to mention probably has copious amounts of sex when the need, ahem, arises.
Transfer the appetites, in all their outsize glory (because you have to figure, it takes a lot of beer to get him drunk, etc. [the adrenaline thing might be different - due to his circumstances as a soldier, he might produce high levels of adrenaline at all times - would fit with his heightened senses and startle reflex]) to a young girl with no healing factor and see it all go to hell.
But people didn't seem to get that, or, let me rephrase, in the feedback I received, people didn't *mention* that aspect. Now, I don't know if they didn't get it or if they did get it and chose to focus on "Poor Rogue! Logan needs to leave her so she can straighten her ass out."
Another story that didn't have quite the angsty impact I'd hoped was The One Sure Thing, which, in addition to being a bit of a style experiment, was supposed to be not-happy. Yet my own *mother*, on reading it, felt bad only for Jean, and in the end, Scott. She thought Rogue was getting her happy ending, just delayed.
And yes, it can be read that way. I just... I guess I was going more for the hurt that Logan caused with his lie (and, of course, Scott with his feelings and Rogue with her taking advantage of Scott's feelings - why yes, in that story, I do hold Logan and Rogue more accountable for the mess, than I do Scott. Because Scott was really falling in love, and Rogue, I'm not sure Rogue wasn't just looking for comfort and possibly some sort of revenge on Logan.) than with the fact that in the end, he came back for her, that it took seeing her with Scott to shock him into telling the truth. I mean, talk about a dumbass!
Ahem.
Another story that garnered actual hostile bad reviews for what I thought was a simple sex romp? Third Time's the Charm. Apparently some people were offended on Rogue's behalf. I thought she was having a good time, and that it was over-the-top enough to categorize it as a silly, smutty story, but uh, guess not.
I'm not sure Childish Things worked, but I have so few readers in SW fandom that I'm gonna say it did. *g* Because it's clear to *me*, at least, that I'm contrasting Obi-Wan's feelings/actions in relation to Thalia with Anakin's feelings/actions in relation to Padme. And Die said I nailed Obi-Wan, so I'm happy. 'Cause she knows. *nods*
Another one that didn't quite get the job done was Fail Safe, but that was second person present/future tense and it confused even me. So I'm not real upset that some people didn't get it.
I also don't know that The Very Sickness of My Heart quite worked. There was so little response that I can't tell. But I really did try to show Rogue as a completely unreliable narrator, I tried the whole stream-of-consciousness thing, I had the contrasting third-omniscient to show what was really happening, as opposed to what Rogue *thought* was happening... I dunno. I count it as one of my favorites, but I guess it's an acquired taste.
Anyhow, I was wondering, and if you're up to the challenge, all you random people who wander by and read this, which of your stories didn't quite work the way you thought it would? The comedy that everyone thought was tragically angsty? The angst that had people rolling in the aisles? Come on, shred your ego. It's good for the soul.
~victoria
link
[current mood: thoughtful]
[current music: I'm Under Your Spell - Amber Benson]
[random quote: Don't be a crack addict. Do be a milk drinker. ~Kay Howard, HLotS]
~*~
10.13.02 - 2:35 a.m.
drunken ramblings
Three smirnoff ices, a Sam Adams, two glasses of pinot grigio out of a pretty blue bottle.
More dancing than you could shake a stick at.
That's why Lee and Ann are fun.
My feet and back are killing me, reminding me that I'm not 21 anymore. But dancing... Groove Is in the Heart. Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? Let's Go Crazy.
Ah... high school and college days. My highly boring youth.
I was a late bloomer; spent my college years and my twenties doing what most people do in high school, but I've never regretted waiting a little longer. Made it sweeter, more fun, somehow.
And am I not the best drunken typist? This is a job skill, when your job is Meeting Planner and you have to attend a dinner and drink multitudinous glasses of wine and then go back to work because something for tomorrow's meetings got fucked up.
Yeah.
I used to have a career. I gave it up. I don't miss the sturm und drang, but sometimes I miss the action, the actually doing stuff I liked and understood.
But then I remember the ulcer, and the spot on my lung (aka, nipple shadow *g*), and I know I made the right decision.
Apparently, from what I learned from Leslie last night, they took at least some of my exit interview to heart, because B. now has much more support on NEO than I ever did.
Sigh.
I still can't feel my lips. I didn't drink water after every drink like I usually do, because this was a house party, not at a bar. I would never, ever have so many people who were drinking alcohol over in my apartment. Did it once, had fun. Learned that M&M's are a BAD party food choice. But people have no fucking respect or concern. I saw people tonight ashing on the rug, and there was beer spillage on the hardwood floors. That's just rude. And people suck, because they don't usually give a damn about those things.
My feet hurt.
I'm just trying to sober up a little before I try to sleep; otherwise, it's the dying fish at 6 am.
Which isn't so bad tonight, because I can sleep until 10 tomorrow, but, on worknights? Oh, God, I remember horrible nights waking up at 4am, tossing and turning until about 6am, and then my alarm going off at 7am.
Gah.
Those were great nights, but horrible mornings.
And I'm not 26 anymore. Can't do it.
Sigh.
G'night.
~victoria
link
[current mood: buzzed]
[current music: Groove Is in the Heart in my head]
[random quote: not vicious or malicious, just delovely and delicious]
~*~
10.12.02 - 7:49 p.m.
rain, rain, go away
The weather here has been noxious the past two days.
Rain, rain, rain. Just grey and damp and rainy.
I spent most of today in bed, after some cartoon watching this morning (Evolution and then an hour of Justice League). I wouldn't have gone out at all except that tomorrow is Diana's shower and I had to get wrapping paper and a card for all the little baby clothes I bought (well, no, my mom bought. She's not making the shower, but she's giving a gift.)
I also watched part of Big Night, which I'd never seen before, and I think I need to watch it all the way through. I mean, Stanley Tucci! Tony Shalhoub! Allison Janney! Campbell Scott!
Plus, food.
I'm all about the food porn, and by that I don't mean, sex involving food (though if done right, I'm a fan of that too) but food filmed as if it's the key to orgasm and the next level of existence.
Speaking of food, last night Leslie came over to see the apartment (she loved it. And let's face it, who wouldn't? It's a freaking great apartment.) and then we went to dinner at the Italian place around the corner.
It poured the whole time, but dinner was good, and the tiramisu was excellent. (And the secret to good tiramisu, imo, is good savoiardi. If the cookies are stale or bad, the whole thing falls apart. And it's hard to find good savoiardi these days.)
Tonight I'm meeting Lee and some of her friends and going to a party. I think I'm bringing a bottle of gin. That's good, right? It's one way of getting rid of something I will never drink again. It makes me a little queasy just thinking about it, even six years later.
And tomorrow is the shower.
I'm hoping the weather will be nicer on Monday, 'cause I have off and I really need to get going on buying a bookcase, so I can get all of these books unpacked.
***
I know I still owe an explanation of my Buffy theory. I'm hoping to get that done tomorrow night.
As far as my pet peeves, Khaki wrote:
You reasoned that Logan doesn't wear cologne because he doesn't want to have to smell it and because he wouldn't be as capable of smelling anyone else.
Ok, then explain to me why he smokes cigars. The cigar sits right under his nose and cigar smoke will permeate his hair and clothes. I know that at least Ororo and Jubilee in the canon comics have complained about the smell. If he can still smell someone past the cigar, then he could past a little cologne or after shave.
I obviously disagree.
Cigar smoke is noxious (my word for the day, apparently *g*), no doubt about it. But it dissipates.
Good perfume or cologne (or really *bad* stuff), doesn't.
Yesterday morning at 7:30am, I sprayed my left wrist with Happy from Clinique, and rubbed my right wrist against it (because too much of that stuff too close to my nose kills my sinuses and makes me ill - it's powerful, is what I'm saying).
Last night, at midnight, I could still smell it while putting my hair up in a ponytail.
I think for Logan, whose senses are so much more acute, the constant presence of cologne or perfume would be horribly uncomfortable and distracting. Especially on his face, which is where men put the stuff.
Yes, the smell of smoke clings and permeates hair and clothing, but it takes *a lot* of it to do so.
Now, I can't reconcile why Logan likes smoking and cheap liquor, given their bad smells and tastes and his supersenses, but I just don't believe he'd wear cologne or like it on others.
The other thing is, cologne or perfume is often supposed to *mask* one's own scent, so it does make changes based on chemistry, etc. that might not always be recognizable, and I can't see Logan handicapping himself like that, by adding something else to the mess of smells that the world must be to him.
Obviously, mileage varies. But if I see it in a fic, I don't believe it, and it can ruin a story for me (unless it's a plot point, that he *doesn't* smell someone because of a new, heavy perfume or especially an oil, which doesn't dissipate at all - I'd imagine a good way to cover your trail if you were running from Wolvie or Sabretooth would be to cover as much distance as you could spraying people with cinnamon or peppermint oil, or something similar that's strong and long-lasting, so you all smelled the same).
~victoria
link
[current mood: lazy]
[current music: Giants-Cards on teevee]
[random quote: the greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return]
~*~
10.11.02 - 5:04 p.m.
Recs! Recs! and more Recs!
Okay, I've been slack, but I'm turning over a new leaf.
Got an LJ for Unfit for Society Recs (strangely enough, you can find it at Unfit for Society's Recs Journal), and I've finally updated it.
and here are the RECS
7 fandoms
22 stories
If you haven't read them already, what the hell are you waiting for?
I will eventually add them to the Unfit for Society Recs Pages, but for now, I'm being lazy and doing it this way.
~victoria
[current mood: productive]
[current music: I'll Never Tell - EC and NB]
[random quote: I got nothing to say I ain't said before I bled all I can, don't wanna bleed no more]
~*~
10.11.02 - 1:42 p.m.
venting some fannish spleen
Couple pet peeves have been irking me lately.
First off, Logan DOES NOT WEAR COLOGNE.
Let's think about this, shall we?
He's got freaking enhanced senses, including sense of smell.
He can sniff out the difference between Mystique and Storm, just for starters, and you think he's 1. going to put up with having Hugo Boss or whatever clinging to him and stuffing his sinuses up for days? Only if he's trying to hide himself from someone with similar olfactory skills, and probably not even then.
Which leads to number 2. Do you think he's going to put up with not being able to smell anyone else?
Not blood likely. I mean, that's one of his key talents, and one of his best advantages - he knows they're coming before they do. He's going to give that up for what? Sinus troubles and CK1? I think not.
***
Okay, pet peeve number two is a spelling pet peeve I've seen popping up frequently lately for some reason:
Per se. NOT per say.
It's Latin, folks. Means, "as such" or perhaps, "intrinsically." From m-w.com: by, of, or in itself or oneself or themselves : as such : INTRINSICALLY.
If you can't spell it, you probably shouldn't be using it in your stories.
***
And, pet peeve number 3:
Third person limited POV characters describing themselves.
Hello? WTF?
Willow is not going to refer to herself as "the redheaded witch" if she's the POV character/narrator,
She may mention that she used to be a witch, but in a scene with Tara, she's not going to use "The redheaded witch moved out of Tara's way."
Also, she's not going to give a long description of herself and her flame red tresses, or her lank black evil hair.
You can have one of the other characters say, "Gee WIllow, glad you got rid of the Evil! Skanky! Flat! black hair."
You can have Anya dying her hair, thinking, "I hope Xander likes (or hates) my new blonde/red/black hair" but not "Anya twirled a lock of her brown hair around her finger; the sunlight glinted off the golden hightlights" unless she's looking in a mirror and about to compliment her colorist.
Work with me here.
I cringe when I read some of my old stories and see how I jumped POV, but at least I've never had Logan refer to his own mutton-chopped cheek or have Jean call herself "the redheaded doctor."
That is all. For the moment, anyway.
And now, I must go to lunch and listen to one of my coworkers natter on about her personal life.
Sigh.
~victoria
link
[current mood: busy]
[current music: Walk This Way - Aerosmith]
[random quote: and in her eyes you see nothing, no sign of love behind the tears cried for no one, a love that could have lasted years]
~*~
10.11.02 - 9:45 a.m.
nothing in particular
You know, just when I get excited that maybe my diary is being found by people of a higher level than "Simpsons incest" and "Smurf Porn" with the "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" and "Meaning, Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah" searches, I get, well, suffice it to say that it's nothing I've ever written about, and it squicks me, and well, aside from the Logan/Jean ishiness, I'm pretty hard to squick.
Speaking of which, squickiness, I mean (and don't you just love my segues?), I think I had a fever last night.
I came home and felt like crap, so I tumbled into bed without having dinner or anything, and slept til 9pm, at which time I woke up and couldn't stop shivering. I mean, I had to pull on a flannel and a pair of leggings and my bathrobe and two blankets - that's how much I was shivering.
Even the heat lamp in the bathroom didn't warm me up.
So I'm lying there in bed thinking, 'this can't be good. this is a sign of fever.' But of course, my mother and sister insisted on throwing out my old mercury thermometers ("You're still using those? They're bad! Bad! Buy yourself a digital one."), I have no way of knowing if I did have a fever or not.
Around 10pm, I got up again, took some Advil, and ate something, at which point I started to shake a little less, and then the Advil kicked in and I felt much better.
But still... I hate that shivery, skin-achy feeling of fever, where you think you'll never be warm again, and then you think you're burning up (though I never did get to that phase in extremis last night. I just took off the flannel around midnight.).
And it's pissing down rain today, so I don't know if the plans to go see White Oleander tonight are on or not.
I've got a busy weekend, amazingly enough. Party tomorrow night (4 blocks away! No $30 cabride home! Woohoo!) and Diana's shower on Sunday.
Monday I plan to sleep in. I love Bank holidays.
I'm not touching the Columbus debate. I'm really not.
My poor niece has to find information defending him for class - they're having a trial and she got stuck on the defense side, which, in this day and age, is not a place I'd want to be, because the material for it is thin on the ground.
So, let's see... I plan on going shopping for bookcases tomorrow or Monday if the weather cooperates, and possibly a small portable file in which to store all my bills (this year and last year), so I can at least be more organized than shoving them into shopping bags, which was my old 'system'.
In fannish news, Diebin wrote new X-Fic, which it was my pleasure to see before she posted it, though the fic, Splinter Me Filter, is hard. Hard to read in that ouchy, "oh god, poor Logan" way.
I keep trying to read other fic and getting interrupted. I was halfway through zahra's Low Men in Yellow Coats when I had to do work yesterday, and I haven't gotten to half the silverlake fic I wanted to read so I could send feedback today.
Sigh.
Eventually life will be slow and boring again, and I'll complain that nothing's going on.
Remind me of this busyness when that happens, m'kay?
~victoria
link
[current mood: busy, damp, cold]
[current music: Driving that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones you better watch your speed]
[random quote: If we can focus, keep discipline, and not have quite as many mysterious deaths, Sunnydale is gonna *rule*!]
~*~
10.10.02 - 1:33 p.m.
Poll for Buffy Fans
Okay, got the big Buffy survey posted. Forgot one question, but eh...
You can fill it out in LiveJournal if you have an LJ yourself. It's here.
I also set it up in here in Diaryland, but it's not the same - no cool radio buttons or drop down boxes, so I'd prefer that people use the LJ one, since that does all the math for me. *g*
But if you don't have an LJ and do have a diaryland diary, you can take it here.
Or you can look at it on LJ and email me with your answers.
Now, I think I'm going to have lunch.
~victoria
link
[current mood: cold and hungry]
[current music: Amy - CCR ? Pure Praire League?]
[random quote: The girl's not playing with a full deck, Giles. She has almost no deck. She has a three.]
~*~
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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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