a fool's musings
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...
Warning: Adult Content
achromatic
unfinished fic graveyard
recs journal
new stuff
recent stuff
my back pages
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
February 2003
January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
October 2002
September 2002
August 2002
July 2002
June 2002
May 2002
April 2002
March 2002
February 2002
January 2002
December 2001
November 2001
the five Ws, or, all about me
profile
e-mail victoria
my livejournal
the
original P&R
comments
current mood:
"pathological and unbalanced"
Items of Interest
-
People
- LiveJournal folks
- Baraita
- bishclone
- claritylit
- Jintian
- Kat Allison
- Kit Mason
- metablog
- mix-tapes
- Neil Gaiman
- Nestra
- Sarah T.
- Seema
- Shrift
- Sundry Mourning
- zendom
-
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
- Catch-22
- The Neely Trilogy
- Absalom! Absalom!
- Possession: A Romance
- Foucault's Pendulum
- Dreamhouse
- LA Confidential
- I Capture the Castle
- Sandman
- Waking the Moon
-
Shows
- Angel
- Buffy the Vampire Slayer (in reruns)
- Alias
- West Wing
- The Simpsons
webrings
<
?
fanfiction !
>
<
?
writers !
>
diaryreviews.diaryland.com
NYC Bloggers
Comments by Haloscan.com
all links, if I haven't screwed up somehow, should open in a new browser window
01.27.03 - 11:19 p.m.
First lines - favorite books edition
First lines (or paragraphs, in some cases) of 10 favorite books, in no particular order (all funky spelling/punctuation is the authors'. Far be it from me to correct Big Bill Faulkner's idiosyncrasies):
From a little after two oclock until almost sundown of the long still hot weary dead September afternoon they sat in what Miss Coldfield called the office because her father had called it that--a dim hot airless room with the blinds all closed and fastened for forty-three summers because when she was a girl someone had believed that light and moving air carried heat and that dark was always cooler, and which (as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that side of the house) became latticed with yellow slashes full of dust motes which Quentin thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried paint itself blown inward from the scaling blinds as wind might have blown them.
Absalom, Absalom!, William Faulkner
***
That was when I saw the Pendulum.
Foucault's Pendulum, Umberto Eco (trans. by William Weaver)
***
She is plucking her bird of paradise of its dead branches, leaning around the plant every time she hears a car. The woman will never find the old house behind the hedge of towering hibiscus at the bend of the dirt road. Not a gringa dominicana in a rented car with a road map asking for street names! Dedé had taken the call over at the little museum this morning.
In the Time of the Butterflies, Julia Alvarez
***
"Come home, Tenar! Come home!"
In the deep valley, in the twilight, the apple trees were on the eve of blossoming; here and there among the shadowed boughs one flower had opened early, rose and white, like a faint star. Sown the orchard aisles, in the thick, new, wet grass, the little girl ran for the joy of running; hearing the call she did not come at once, but made a long circle before she turned her face towards home. The mother waiting in the doorway of the hut, with the firelight behind her, watched the tiny figure running and bobbing like a bit of thistledown blown over the darkening grass beneeath the trees.
The Tombs of Atuan, Ursula K. LeGuin
***
Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.
The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint Exupéry (trans. by Katherine Woods)
***
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages you've had."
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
***
An abandoned auto court in the San Berdoo foothills; Buzz Meeks checked in with ninety-four thousand dollars, eighteen pounds of high-grade heroin, a 10-gauge pump, a .38 special, a .45 automatic and a switchblade he'd bought off a pachuco at the border -- right before he spotted a car parked across the line: Mickey Cohen goons in an LAPD unmarked, Tijuana cops standing by to bootjack a piece of his goodies, dump his body in the San Ysidro River.
L.A. Confidential, James Ellroy
***
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. That is, my feet are in it; the rest of me is on the draining-board, which I have padded with our dog's blanket and a tea-cosy.
I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith
***
My desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable split-ups, in chronological order:
1. Alison Ashworth
2. Penny Hardwick
3. Jackie Allen
4. Charlie Nicholson
5. Sarah Kendrew.
High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
***
It was love at first sight.
Catch-22, Joseph Heller
***
The year Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.
The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern abridged by William Goldman *g*
***
The Legolas/Eowyn ficlet is up in the LJ, as well. It's called Heaven Dissolvéd So and takes place before Aragorn arrives at Helm's Deep, so uh, spoilers for TTT (movie).
~victoria
link
[current mood: cold]
[current music: indifference - pearl jam]
[random quote: I will hold the candle til it burns up my arm, I'll keep taking punches until their will grows tired]
~*~
01.27.03 - 1:04 p.m.
First Ten Lines - Songs Edition
There is a fire on the 32nd floor of this building. We've just been told we should remain where we are.
I guess I'm not heading out to pick up that Dodgers memorabilia just yet, so I'd like to do the first lines of 10 favorite books survey, but it'll have to wait until I get home and actually can get my hands on the books (and one or two have been lent out. Which reminds me. I need to call Lee. She has my copy of Dreamhouse. And her birthday is next week.)
Good lord, these fire safety guys need to shut the fuck up. They've been announcing the same damned information every thirty seconds. (this was at 12:34 pm. It is now 1:04 pm. This has been going on for half an hour. Why can't they just SHUT UP?!?!?!?!)
Anyhow, since I can't do books, I'm gonna take a page from northatlantic's LJ and do first lines from 10 favorite songs:
The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways. Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays. Roy Orbison's singing for the lonely. Hey that's me and I want you only. ~Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen
I took a drive today / time to emancipate / I guess it was the beatings made me wise / but I'm not about to give thanks, or apologize. ~Rearviewmirror, Pearl Jam
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago, turned around backwards so the windshield shows. Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse. Still, it's so much clearer. ~Nightswimming, REM
Tears fill up my eyes / I'm washed away with sorrow / And somewhere in my mind / I know there's no tomorrow / I see you're leaving soon / I guess you've had your fill / But if I can't change your mind / Then no one will. ~If I Can't Change Your Mind, Sugar
You don't know how you move me / Deconstruct me / And consume me / I'm all used up / I'm out of luck / I am starstuck / By something in your eyes / That is keeping my hope alive. ~Sick of Myself, Matthew Sweet
I would say I'm sorry / If I thought that it would change your mind / But I know that this time / I have said too much / Been too unkind ~Boys Don't Cry, The Cure
Fragile Like a baby in your arms. Be gentle with me, I'd never willingly do you harm. Apologies are all you seem to get from me. But just like a child, You make me smile When you care for me ~Question of Lust, Depeche Mode
I heard a girl one day / she had these long tight legs / she said "I get it every night, and he calls me everyday" / he'll leave you back and blue / he'll rip you right in two / then wake up in the morning and say / "who the hell are you?" ~I Say Nothing, Voice of the Beehive
And you know it's time to go through the sleet and driving snow, across the fields of mourning, lights in the distance. And you hunger for the time, time to heal, desired time, and the earth moves beneath your own dream landscape ~A Sort of Homecoming, U2
There's blood in the streets, / It's up to my ankles. / There's blood in the streets, / It's up to my knees. ~Peace Frog, the Doors
Now this is not my "Top Ten Favorite Songs" list, but the first lines to ten of my favorite songs. THere are many, many more, but these are the ones I came up with off the top of my head.
And I am going to kill the fire safety warden here, who keeps announcing the SAME DAMNED thing every fucking 30 seconds.
Grrr.... You told us the fire has been contained, you have nothing new to tell us.
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
~victoria
link
[current mood: incredibly irritated]
[current music: the fucking Fire safety warden on the PA]
[random quote: Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for *money*. It's a *job*... That didn't come out right.]
~*~
01.27.03 - 10:50 a.m.
Dave Barry on TTT and other musings
Also, for those who are interested, I posted what I have of the stumpfucking fic in the LJ, as it is Jenn's birthday fic, and today is her birthday.
Unfinished, obviously.
I hope to finish it soon, though. Rereading it makes me realize how much I like it. That doesn't happen often with my fic. I like most of 'em, but I don't tend to get all caught up in reading them as if they were someone else's stories. In fact, aside from two or three of my stories that I reread when I'm feeling down on myself, I generally can remember far too much about the writing process to enjoy the story for itself. That's not the case with say, Best-Laid Plans or Soiled Dove, which I actually enjoy on their own merits and can sort of forget I wrote.
Game of You seems to be shaping up that way as well.
And also Nothing Like the Sun. I reread it this morning on the train, doing some minor editing. It definitely needs work (and a whole middle section. sigh.) but I like it. It's got what I hope is a brilliant but scary Hermione and an appealing and yet still bastardish Draco.
Now I'm going to edit the Legolas/Eowyn ficlet and maybe answer some email in between doing actual work.
Oh! Before I forget - there's still time to sign up for the We Invented the Remix...Redux challenge. Til 11:59 pm EST tonight. So drop me a line if you're interested.
~victoria
link
[current mood: good]
[current music: Santa Monica - Everclear]
[random quote: I am still living with your goats (thanks, DD)]
~*~
01.26.03 - 10:41 p.m.
BSO update
Bright Shiny Objects has just been updated and I got recced!
Whee!
::does the dance of being recced::
Ahem.
I know that's tacky, but I don't care.
[current mood: ]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]
~*~
01.26.03 - 3:55 p.m.
what do your elf eyes see?
I made a new banner!
I am such a silly fangrrl.
I should also try to find some Orli-as-pirate pics, though I there's something about the blond Elf hair that fascinates me. I don't care either way about the eyes (I generally prefer dark eyes) but the blond hair is key to his attraction.
Speaking of attraction and blondes, I finished the Legolas/Eowyn this afternoon, as well. No smut, just a few chaste kisses. Sorry.
Also read a gorgeous Legolas/Gimli fic by Laura JV.
I wish I could write them with such assurance. But I have no sense of Gimli, and my lizard brain is too preoccupied with pretty pretty Legolas/Aragorn for me to really want to try.
I also want to see if I can't redeem Movie!Faramir somehow, and write the Faramir/Eowyn love story before RotK comes out, since I have no idea how PJ et al. are gonna handle it, and I have to make Movie!Faramir worthy of my girl, even if he never will have raven hair and grave grey eyes like in the book.
Marg and Dom and their spouses and kids are coming over for the game, so I must go now, or be locked in this room with the dog.
And since I actually enjoy the company of my siblings, their spouses and their children, I don't want that to happen.
Shiver me timbers, and let the games begin...
~victoria
link
[current mood: geeky]
[current music: Bonnie Raitt on the pregame show]
[random quote: You're late... and you look terrible.]
~*~
01.26.03 - 1:47 p.m.
two kinds of people
You know that saying, "there are two kinds of people..."?
I've been thinking about that recently, and while it's usually both banal and facile to make such pronouncements, I'm going to do so, twice.
I've noticed, in attempts to recruit folks for the Remix...Redux challenge that there seems to be two general reactions:
1. Cool! I can't wait to see what someone does to my stories
and
2. Omigod! No! My babies! (okay, this is a little exaggerated but still, the underlying tone is there)
(Note: Almost nobody is rubbing their hands together going, "I can't *wait* to get my hands on her stories" - at least not publicly, and probably because the matching is going to be fairly random within fandoms. I can just imagine the chaos and hurt feeligns that would ensue if I just threw up a list of particicpants and let you all choose who you were going to rewrite. ::shudder::)
Anyhow, I'm not so sure what this split means, but I find it interesting and I've been thinking about it.
Because it can't all be ego.
Obviously, I have a massive ego. Duh. Because I don't believe anyone could write my stories *better* than I can. Do I think that some of my stories could stand improvement? Boy, howdy, yeah. But I don't think another author is going to rewrite me *better*. It'll just be different.
I mean, sure, the end produce might be better, but it will no longer be *my* story. It will be their story.
Sure, there are writers out there whose talent I envy and every time I read something of theirs, I wail and gnash my teeth. I guess I should be grateful that they are not that prolific and one has moved out of my fandoms altogether so I no longer have to eat my own heart out over how bad I am in comparison to her.
But I'm pretty happy with the end result of most of my stories. I really am. So I'm not that worried about one of them being redone, especially as it will be a whole new version of the story when whoever gets me is done with it.
And that can only be a cool thing.
The other distinction I've noticed lately is that there are some people who are willing to be cranky in public and some who are not.
I obviously fall into the first category. If something irritates or annoys me, I let the world know about it, in no uncertain terms.
Part of that is a plea for attention. Part of it is just I have so much bile that I can't let it sit inside or it'll eat me out from the inside (and what is it with the eating body parts metaphors today?), and part of it is my hope that if I bitch enough about something, someone somewhere will FIX it.
So you can be pretty sure that if I'm bitching about something in private, I'm going to be bitching about it in public soon enough, because I don't generally keep my thoughts to myself, and if I say something behind someone's back, I'm pretty comfortable saying it to their face (though I may be a touch more diplomatic to your face; I'm blunt, not stupid).
So I find it irritating sometimes to listen to fans bitch about things in private to me that they would *never* say in public, for whatever reasons - they want to be liked, they don't like controversy, whatever.
If something bothers me so much that I can get worked into a towering rage over it, you damn well better believe everybody is going to know about it.
I'm sure most people ignore me when I get like that - it's much easier to do so online than it is in real life, where I'd be redfaced and screaming - and while I have no problems with people not liking me or thinking I'm a bitch, I don't actually go out of my way to be offensive... Usually.
And as I've said before, I don't hold being liked above being true to myself, and honestly, you're getting almost 75% undiluted victoria here and in LJ. This is me, with the edges smoothed a little.
So yeah, two kinds of people and then a hundred million kinds as well.
Now I think I'm going to make me a new banner for this diary, possibly featuring Legolas.
Shiver me timbers!
I say everyone should talk like a pirate today, with the Bucs and the Raiders in the Super Bowl. Dave Barry actually wrote an article about such a thing back in September.
I think it's linked from this diary, if you wanna go looking for it. *g*
~victoria
link
[current mood: piratey]
[current music: The Thin Man on TMC]
[random quote: I don't like crooks. And if I did like 'em, I wouldn't like crooks that are stool pigeons. And if I did like croo]
~*~
01.25.03 - 10:50 p.m.
What's Done and What's To Do
The Unfit for Society Recs Pages have been updated to include everything on the Unfit for Society Recs LJ.
My elbow hurts. I am utterly spent.
::eats another creamcheese snack::
I still want some good Luke/Lorelai, and I want to finish the L/E and the Gilesfic sometime soon.
To do, fic wise:
+Finish writing Giles fic (slodwick's challenge)
+Finish writing Legolas/Eowyn - Done!
+Finish writing the Josh/Donna fic
+Finish writing Nothing Like the Sun (Hermione/Draco)
+Edit lipstick fic
+Edit watchfic
+beta for Bree and for Meg
+work on Remix fic, whatever it happens to be.
Less pressing but still stuff I'd like to get done:
+Dreams in Red
+Bab!Rogue
+Liar's Poker
+Fifth Wheel
+The Prodigal
+Consumption
+A Game of You (I will post what I've got of it on Monday as it is Jenn's birthday fic
+The Day's Hard Light (Logan in Nam)
+Amnesiac!Rogue
I think those are the only ones of my WIPs that will ever get done. Unless I get really inspired by the sequel, of course, and want to go back and finish things. Though I have a feeling I'll be inspired to do *new* stuff. Never can tell, though.
Things I'd like to write but haven't started yet:
+Legolas/Aragorn bathing fic, in which Aragorn is washed and made pretty
+Shrek with Logan/Rogue
+The Thin Man with either Ron and Hermione or Xander and Anya
+His Girl Friday with Chloe and Lex
Or maybe I could do Mr. Blandings Builds His Dreamhouse for Ron and Hermione (I'd say for Xanya, but Foreman!Xander would never stand for what Mr. Blandings goes through on that construction job). Or even better, some twisted version of The African Queen, with the two of them on the outs and then having to travel together and finally admitting their love for each other, after he accuses her of being a frigid bitch and she accuses him of not caring about anything but Quidditch.
Hmmm...
I resolutely promise not to write the Boromir's mourning fiancee/Legolas fic that amuses me so much in my head. I don't do well with OFCs, and it would only end badly for all of us.
~victoria
link
[current mood: spent]
[current music: Gypsy - Stevie Nicks]
[random quote: you could be my silver spring, blue green ocean flashing]
~*~
01.25.03 - 3:16 p.m.
I am so suggestible. Sigh.
Boys and girls, I'm here to tell you that waiting a *year* to update your recs pages on your website is a bad idea. I mean, it's up there on the scale of bad ideas with the Edsel, Smell-o-Vision, tying a cape to your pajamas and jumping out the window like Superman, and polyester leisure suits.
Bad.
I spent about 5 hours last night on it, and I'm still not done.
Sigh.
This will teach me to be so lackadaisical.
And now, for voleuse, a snippet of Legolas/Eowyn, as it appeared in my head at 2:30 am this morning...
{set at Helm's Deep before Aragorn returns}
He rests his head in the crook of her neck. Their golden hair mingles, gleaming in the dim light, and for a moment he wonders where he ends and she begins.
A madness is on him - a madness of grief.
Now he understands why the race of Man so often fails to live up to its potential. The overwhelming sorrow he feels at Aragorn's loss threatens to reduce him to a mere shadow of himself.
He has lived many long years, and he fears little that walks on the earth or under it, but this gnawing horror in the pit of his belly terrifies him. He clings more tightly to Eowyn.
"How," his voice is an unsteady, hoarse whisper, "how do you stand this?"
She cups his cheek, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Wise she is, and full of woe. "Because we must," she says.
"That is no answer."
"It is the only one I have to give," she replies. Her thumb caresses his lower lip, and she kisses him again. "Hope is lost, my lord, but we carry on even in the face of defeat. We must, or honor is lost ere the battle has begun."
***
Dammit. I have lipstick fic and watchfic and J/D and Hr/D and betaing to do! I can't be distracted by pretty, pretty Legolas and pretty Eowyn comforting each other in the caverns at Helm's Deep.
Sigh.
I'm so suggestible, it's not even funny.
~victoria
link
[current mood: busy]
[current music: On the Radio - Donna Summer]
[random quote: 'Cause it don't bleed and it don't breathe It's locked its jaws and now it's swallowing]
~*~
Disclaimer: Reading this diary is not required by law. If you do not like or agree with the contents herein, or find them to be offensive on more than one occasion, please go elsewhere and don't come back. Management is not responsible for any adverse reactions to content within.
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.
This site is best viewed with IE4+ | 1024x768 | true color | verdana | tables