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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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
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01.31.03 - 1:25 p.m.

I'm cold and damp and I kinda grow on you.

Someone is searching for the teevee show called "Silk Stockings."

Um, that was a movie with Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse - the musical version of "Ninotchka." Great flick.

But I think you're looking for "Silk Stalkings" which was a fun Crimetime After Primetime CBS show on in the late '80s. I always liked it a lot, in the Rob Estes/Mitzi Kapture era.

I am so sad.

::snerk::

Thanks to all for the kind words on Educating Legolas.

I will finish it. I promise. And it will probably only be posted here and on my site. I'm not exposing myself (pun intended) on any lists with this.

I've also got a title for the GG fic I want to write. "Angling." Hee! I love a punny title. Now if I could just be convinced of Luke's voice, I'd write the damned thing. Should be short. Must read some transcripts first.

As for last night, I did not end up going to the movies.

As I was leaving the office, FNG (who really needs a new nickname. He's not new anymore. Maybe FHG for Fucking Hot Guy? That works.), rather, FHG invited me out to drinks with him and a couple of people from his unit (which is separate from my unit, though we're all in the same big department).

So we went to the bar downstairs (I love working in places that have bars in the building. So helpful), and had a couple drinks.

They make me feel stupid, though, with all their finance talk that I don't understand. And they make me feel provincial because I've never been anywhere but Acapulco and various US locations, and they're all from far-flung locations like India and Australia, and have been to even more impressive locations, like Mongolia and the Kremlin and the Arctic Circle.

So I basically had nothing to say except the my Sharpe dvds have shipped and that's like EIGHT HOURS of sexy Sean Bean goodness, but even if they've arrived I can't watch because I've still got no fucking power.

Then the talk turned to LotR and one of the guys said his daughter had a huge crush on Legolas until she saw the Orli's mohawk and that just turned her right off.

::snicker::

I get that. Totally.

That was like the dorkiest mohawk ever. What was he thinking?

They wouldn't let me pay (which was nice, considering as KT said, they all make a zillion times more than I, the lowly Admin, do), so I had three V&Ts for free. Gotta love that.

I went home, had a ham sammidge (sic) and went to bed. Exciting life, eh?

It was a nice buzz, though.

So tonight, instead of seeing TTT, we're allegedly going to Chicago.

Which is good. I wanted to see it. But I also wanted an excuse to go see my pretty pretty boys again.

Yes, I am that shallow. Even my depths are shallow. Cordelia, remember? Real Cordelia, not breathy St. Cordelia of the Glowy Lights and Ridiculous Sex with Connor.

I didn't see this week's Angel and won't until a week from today, probably, so I don't know what-all happened though I have an inkling, and I don't think I like what I've heard.

I haven't read much fic this week, and I'm feeling terribly guilty because I didn't FB last week on silverlake and I got lovely fb on my own stuff, and gah, I hate that I make feedback into a quid pro quo when it's not and it shouldn't be.

I still haven't decided what story I'm going to remix, so I have to do that this weekend.

If you sent me a question/story to beta/feedback in the past two weeks, I will get to it shortly. I just got tied up in Remix admin and then this thing with the lights.

Gah. It's amazing how much of my life is taken away without electricity.

Tomorrow I must go buy a baby shower gift, and maybe then I'll check out TTT again. I called Lee, since Sunday is her birthday, but she hasn't gotten back to me. The good part about living so close is that we could do something spontaneously, should she deign to call me.

I've discussed this thing with my friends before - how we call and cancel and generally leave each other alone for long stretches of time, and how I'm all right with that, and I notice that this model works very poorly with online friendships.

Because online friendships are *based* on that constant communication. so falling behind with one of my 'email friends' as my parents call them, means that I'm totally out of the loop. And it's somehow a much bigger deal than it is when I don't talk to Lee or Glenda or Rita for three months at a time.

I wonder why that is. Is it just that I've know most of my "real life" friends for many years, and even my longest close online friendships only stretch back to August 2000?

Is it a function of distance? I know that I could call Glenda and since she works ten blocks from here, I could see her tomorrow, whereas with my close online friends, most of them are in places that would require at least 45 minutes of flight time to get together?

Anyone else have this experience? Or is it just me?

I admit I'm not the easiest person to get to know or to be friends with. I like it that way. I don't admit just anybody into the sanctum sanctorum, but once you're in, unless you fuck up massively or you choose to leave, you're pretty much in for life.

But no, not an easy person to know or like. That's why they call me Moss. I'm cold and damp and I kinda grow on you.

In more fannish, but still navel-gazing news, me and Julio down by the schoolyard I mean, me on Mary Sue, over in the LJ.

Lunch now.

~victoria



link

[current mood: thoughtful, sleepy]
[current music: The Waiting - TB & the HBs - LOVE THIS SONG!!]
[random quote: the waiting is the hardest part every day you get one more yard]

~*~

01.30.03 - 6:05 p.m.

embarrassingly bad parody

To make up for being so cranky, here's the beginning of the LotR parodyfic. Characterization and tone are equally informed by Bagenders and the VSD and the fact that I find myself endlessly amusing. Please ignore all anachronisms, as they are intentional and meant to be humorous.

It's possible that Tolkien purists might want to not read any further, and I haven't even gotten to the sex yet.

Comments, suggestions, endless praise are all welcome.

***

Educating Legolas

Eowyn Eomund’s-daughter, former shieldmaiden of Rohan, current fiancée of Faramir, Steward of Gondor, smiled as Arwen Undómiel, bride-to-be of King Elessar, formerly known as Aragorn (formerly known as Estel, Thorongil, Strider, and Longshanks) entered her chamber.

Eowyn had only recently been let out of the Houses of Healing, and she was deep in the midst of planning her wedding to Faramir, which would take place shortly after King Elessar’s coronation.

“Hail, Arwen Evenstar, soon to be Queen of Gondor and Arnor,” Eowyn said, rising.

“Hail, Eowyn Eomund’s-daughter, soon to be Stewardess of Gondor--"

“I really prefer Flight Attendant,” Eowyn confided.

Arwen looked blank for a moment, then, “Oh, of course.” She curled up on the couch and said, “Now that the formalities are out of the way, I have a favor to ask you.”

Eowyn was immediately on guard. The last favor she’d done for Arwen had involved helping dress two drunk Halflings in women’s clothing. The hobbits then performed at the barracks of the combined armies of Rohan and Gondor, and Eowyn’s second favorite dress had not survived.

“A favor?”

“Yes. It’s rather delicate.”

Eowyn raised an eyebrow. “I take it Merry and Pippin aren’t involved, then.”

Arwen grimaced. “No, thank Elbereth. I don’t think I could handle them playing another round of ‘hide the sausage’ with Aragorn.” She shuddered elegantly. “No, this concerns our dear friend Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil--"

“I know who he is,” Eowyn interrupted. “I think we can skip the list of his titles.” Arwen inclined her head. “So, is something wrong? He seemed happy the last time I saw him. Well, except for the whole ‘longing for the Sea’ thing. But I thought Gimli was taking it all in stride.”

“That’s just it, you see. Galadriel has had another vision.”

Eowyn felt the cold fingers of fear clutch her heart.

"I thought her Ladyship’s days of visions were over.”

“So did she, so did we all,” Arwen said. “Nonetheless, she has had a vision about Legolas, and it concerns us all.”

Arwen paused, but Eowyn waited her out. The Elves were all such drama queens, she thought. Operative word being ‘queens.’

“Legolas is going to meet with a creature called Mary Sue, and to her he will give his heart.”

“I thought he and Gimli-- wait a minute. *Her*? Did you say, ‘her’?”

Arwen nodded, and she smiled like a cat who’s been in the cream. “Indeed. That’s what makes it so delicious. Ahem. I mean, what makes your involvement so urgent.”

“*My* involvement?” Eowyn was still wary. She knew Arwen had never quite forgiven her for her crush on Aragorn, and even being happily engaged to her dear Faramir hadn’t cleared the Elf maiden’s mind of suspicion.

“Indeed,” Arwen said again, and Eowyn wondered what the penalty was for wiping that smug smile off her future queen’s face. Arwen raised her voice slightly and said, “Aragorn, Faramir, Gimli, please join us.”

The two Men and the dwarf entered the room, followed by Eomer, who hadn’t been invited, but couldn’t be gotten rid of. He’d been following Faramir around for days, ensuring his suitability as a husband for Eowyn. What with all those rumors about Boromir, one could never be sure, and after all, Eomer had squired for Boromir and...

At that point, Eomer always trailed off, leaving Eowyn to imagine very naughty things indeed.

“Have you agreed then?” Aragorn asked.

Arwen nodded but Eowyn said, “Agreed? I still don’t know what I’m being asked to do.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at his beloved, who shrugged one elegant shoulder. “I thought I’d made it clear, but if you must have it laid out in blunt terms--" she paused and it was evident from her demeanor that she thought Eowyn was uncouth for pressing her on the matter. “Legolas has never been with a woman before, and he needs to be educated before he meets his destiny.”

Eowyn stared at Arwen in shock. None of the men, nor Gimli, would meet her eyes.

"And this is all right with you, Faramir?" she finally said.

Her betrothed shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to look at a spot somewhere over her right shoulder. "Yes, darling."

"But--"

"I'll be there the whole time," he continued. "Watching."

She opened and closed her mouth. "I see." All of the men winced at her icy tone. "And Gimli, how feel you about this? Or do you plan on watching, too?"

"Nay, lass. I'll be having an audience with the Lady Galadriel, fairest of all Ladies in Middle-Earth."

Eowyn's eyes narrowed. "Really?" She shot a look at Arwen. "And why have you not remedied this matter, Lady Arwen? Surely a woman of Elf-kind would be more suited for such a task--"

"Believe me, I wanted her to--" Aragorn began, but at a sharp look from Arwen he backtracked, "I mean, I wished to help my dear friend, but it would be unseemly for the Queen to be involved in such a thing."

Gimli leaned over and whispered, "He wanted to play too, but Arwen said no. She's still jealous about that fling he had with Boromir back in Rivendell."

"And you're okay with this?" she asked him.

"I know that no man alive could take Legolas' love from me, but I'll not begrudge him the opportunity to ... broaden his horizons."

"Your king needs you, Eowyn," Aragorn said, taking her hand and going down on one knee before her, ignoring Arwen's daggered glance.

Eowyn thought of Legolas -- his beautiful face, strong hands, hard body -- and when Faramir nodded, she sighed. "As you will, my lord Aragorn. As you will."

***

Next up, the sex, which I will feel much more comfortable writing...

Now, I'm going home.

~victoria



link

[current mood: wiped]
[current music: Paradise City - GNR]
[random quote: oh won't you please take me home...]

~*~

01.30.03 - 12:47 p.m.

"You have to allow for relapses."

Still an emotional wreck.

I feel like crap for being so needy all of a sudden. But the electricity thing, on top of the forgotten thing...

That's like my whole big Issue. I am so sick and tired of being part of the furniture, and occasionally it gets to the point where I end up bitching about it. It happens in real life as well as in fandom. It's something about *me* that makes people see me that way, or *not* see me, to be exact.

And I don't know what it is, and while I could go into a big long thing about *why* it bothers me, I'm not going to. Suffice it to say, that it's not when assholes rag on me that I get upset. Because I don't give a fuck about their opinions. It's when people who otherwise seem to like me/be my friend all of a sudden forget about me that I have a problem, and have had one for as long as I can remember.

And god, I'm going to have to have a big huge crying jag at some point, but I can't right now.

I can't focus enough to write. I've had four different stories open so far this morning, and none is working. I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind for smut or humor, so maybe I'll just edit the lippie fic.

So last night I made a couple of icons to cheer me up. Though the writing is a little hard to read here.

And what does it say about the quality of my monitor at work that the text was easier to read on the screen of my *laptop*?

And let's just take a moment to bow our heads in thanks to whoever came up with the battery, because it surely saved my bacon last night, between the flashlights, the cell phone and the laptop.

Since I had nothing else to do, I read Only Child last night, the latest Burke book from Andrew Vachss and I have to say - the last two or three have left me... unsatisfied.

I don't know if it's that the anger seems to have faded a bit and Burke is now sort of resigned and a little more zen, or what, but the villain in Pain Management turned out to be a huge ho-hum, and I thought the pacing was off in Only Child, though I was thrilled that the old crew was back together, and that Gem wasn't in it.

And this morning I started reading The Long Goodbye, which has been sitting on the shelf next to The Big Sleep for ages, and I kept forgetting I had it.

I almost missed my stop on the bus, I was so into it.

God, someday I wanna write like Raymond Chandler:

"Maybe I can quit drinking one of these days. They all say that, don't they?"

"It takes about three years."

"Three years?" He looked shocked.

"Usually it does. It's a different world. You have to get used to a paler set of colors, a quieter lot of sounds. You have to allow for relapses. All the people you used to know well will get to be just a little strange. You won't even like most of them, and they won'tlike you too well."

"That wouldn't be much of a change."


and
"Alcohol is like love," he said. "The first kiss in magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off."

"Is that bad?" I asked him.

"It's excitement of a high order, but it's an impure emotion--impure in the aesthetic sense. I'm not sneering at sex. It's necessary and it doesn't have to be ugly. But it always has to be managed. Making it glamorous is a billion-dollar industry and it costs every cent of it."

And that's just from the first twenty pages or so. (What? My commute is very short.)

I wonder why noir in novels thrills me so and yet film noir often leaves me cold.

ANd I wonder why I have such a thing for hardboiled detective fiction - Marlowe, Spade, Burke, the denizens of James Ellroy's LA, even the Garrett books by Glen Cook - hardboiled detective in a fantasy setting, though based more on Nero Wolfe than Sam Spade, I'm told. Archie's just not hardboiled enough to be put into this category, and I enjoy watching the new incarnation of Nero Wolfe (is it still on? What time?) more than I enjoy watching some old classic noir film.

Hmmm... I wonder if it's because in my mind, movies are still for fun more than for thinking, and books are for both fun and thinking? Because while I have nothing against books that make me work and think and have lots of depressing/dark things going on, I prefer my movies to be lighter, both in tone and subject.

And now I have to go harass Con Ed again.

~victoria



link

[current mood: upset]
[current music: Highway 61=Dylan]
[random quote: I don't mind if you don't like my manners. I don't like 'em myself. I grieve over them on long winter nights]

~*~

01.29.03 - 10:03 p.m.

Power outage

The morons at Con Edison have turned off my electricity because apparently the fuckwits who lived here before me never paid their bill and never closed their account.

So I'm being penalized.

Fuckers.

More tomorrow, from work, where there is light.

~victoria

[current mood: ]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]

~*~

01.29.03 - 1:22 p.m.

Sadly, no smut yet. Lots of Draco thoughts, though.

I was hoping to have some porn to share this afternoon, but as I just spent the last two hours sending out Remix...Redux match-ups, it didn't happen.

Poor Logan. Poor Rogue. Poor Eowyn. I'd say 'Poor Legolas' but he has no clue yet what he's in for, and is still probably happily schtupping Gimli.

He hasn't yet found out he's going to have to deal with.... dum da dum dum... icky girl parts!

Well, I amuse myself, anyway, which we've established, and this parody will have hot Legolas/Eowyn sex and lots of laughs. I hope. I can never tell if I'm funny, because of course *I* think I am, but ... too many repressive, "You think you're funny but you're not" looks from siblings and parents over the years have eroded my confidence in my ability to entertain.

Anyhow, before I forget, some clarification on the Remix...Redux Challenge, and as always, feel free to e me if you have questions.

In other news, olekumi took me up on my offer "to discuss the concept of unreliable narrator and Draco's character".

Here’s my take on it, through GoF.

I find fanon redeemed!Draco... unbelievable, for the simple reason that nothing yet in canon tells us he's done anything good or for the benefit of someone other than himself.

A lot of people argue that since the books are from Harry's POV, Draco is always portrayed in the worst possible light.

And they're not wrong.

However, and this is what I mean when I talk about the unreliable narrator, Harry generally always portrays Snape in the worst possible light, and the narrative goes out of its way to show us that he's wrong. Numerous times.

Therefore, if JKR *wants* to redeem Draco, or show that he at least *wants* to be redeemed, she's a skilled enough writer to do it even while keeping him looking like a prat in Harry's eyes (and thus making Harry’s narration even more overtly unreliable, and not just where Snape is concerned.

To me, she has not yet done so, which is why a number of redeemed!Draco characterizations I've read feel off to me.

Of course, I'm a big canon-whore, and I like my fic to at least start out close to canon before veering off into weirdness. *G*

She reminds me in response to this comment that Draco does warn Hermione to 'keep her head down' in CoS, and yeah, he does.

I don't think Malfoy is pure, undiluted evil... yet.

I think he's a spoiled brat who looks up to his father and has had his head filled with nonsense about the great Malfoy name and prestige/place in history and destiny and all that crap that fathers use to screw up their sons.

I also think he's a little boy who has no *idea* what the hell he'd be getting into.

He's also a bully and a sneak and a tattletale.

So yeah, I do think he *can* be redeemed, but I don't think he'll ever be sweet, contrite Draco who just wants to cuddle with Harry under the blankets.

I also don't think he's much misunderstood, necessarily. Or not yet, at any rate. Because he hasn't done anything yet to rate clarification.

All that said, I'm not writing him as evil. I'm not really writing him as good. I'm writing him as self-centered and with a touch of rueful self-awareness of what he is, and I hope that characterization works.

Huh.

I think maybe I'll go have lunch now.

I've been toying with other thoughts on showing v. telling and such, but later for that...

~victoria



link

[current mood: productive]
[current music: Lonesome Day - Bruce]
[random quote: Men believe women are hopeless gossips, but women *know* men are. ~Amelia Peabody Emerson]

~*~

01.28.03 - 11:25 a.m.

#143 from the "I amuse myself" files

This morning on the bus, the only seat available was the center seat in the back. Of course, I took it.

My feet didn't reach the floor.

Even with the extra inch I seemed to have gained somewhere over the past couple of years (making me a whopping 5'4 instead of 5'3 as it says on my driver's license), when I sat back like a proper young woman ::snicker:: I could swing my feet without touching the floor.

This amuses me to no end.

I have to say that last night, I did a pretty damned phenomenal job typing up those first lines, because I had quite a nice buzz going for a while. Three Absolut and cranberry (which were 3/4 Absolut and barely 1/4 cranberry) and a teeny shot of Grand Marnier (in a little chocolate shot cup) gives a nice buzz.

The wonderful thing? Still have all the meeting planner skills. Stood in the corner of the reception and did a head count, made sure everything ran smoothly (they really didn't need me for that, but shh, don't tell G or MW) and a good time was had by all.

It's times like these that I miss meeting planning, a little. NOt the hassles with the hotels and the annoying people who didn't want to pay $129 a night for a room in a decent hotel ("We can stay at the Motel 6 for $69!" Go right ahead, fuckers, but the Society is not going to hold meetings at Motel 6, and don't even *start* questioning me when I tell you I got you a great rate of $159/night in NYC, 'cause good luck finding *that* on your own outside of Juan's Roach Motel), but the planning parts - the finding the good hotel, picking the meals, doing the resume and the BEOs and watching the event come together.

That's a nice feeling of accomplishment most of the jobs I've had never provided.

And ooh, speaking of accomplishments, I found the draft!

The makeshift cover I put over my air conditioner in my bedroom wasn't covering the whole thing - there's a gap between the sleeve in the wall and the wall (which should have putty or caulking or something in it to prevent these kinds of drafts) and goddamn, it was making my bedroom *freezing* even though the heat was gurgling in the pipes.

So with some duct tape, aluminum foil and plastic garbage bags, I managed to close it off so that my bedroom will no longer feel like the freaking Arctic Circle whenever the wind blows.

Of course, it was 2am when I finally got this whole thing done, and my back is killing me, but still... I am the motherfucking MAN (metaphorically speaking, of course).

~victoria



link

[current mood: amused]
[current music: Thunder Road - Bruce]
[random quote: tonight we'll be free, all the promises will be broken]

~*~

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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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