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

02.05.03 - 5:11 p.m. Others ought to be pleasing me. Still no comments. Grrr... Am looking for more artwork to turn into iconnage, and goddamn, I have *such* bourgeois taste. O'Keeffe. Monet. Manet. And the Pre-Raphaelites. Ansel Adams. I like art that looks like something. Preferably something pretty. Paintings of flowers and pretty girls in pretty dresses are guaranteed to make me happy. here are the ones I've got so far. Maybe a pinup girl or two would work. But even though it's the recs LJ, I want to avoid anything recognizably fannish. ~*~ My horoscope: From NY Press’s Sign Language Cancer (June 21-July 22) Rich folk of previous centuries commissioned the most famous and talented artists of their times to paint their portraits. This mutually beneficial arrangement guaranteed some form of immortality for those old-school aristocrats, supported and added to the culture that made their wealth and civilization meaningful, and also made sure the talented visionaries of their time had money with which to eat and live. Have loftier goals than fulfilling one or two people. This week, mimic that (admittedly imperfect) system at its best, and discover ways to help yourself while helping and pleasing others as well. Bah. Feh. Others ought to be pleasing me. ~*~ New West Wing tonight. Did you know Joshua Malina is 37? ::boggles:: I thought he was in his early twenties during SN. I thought he was younger than I. Huh. ~victoria link [current mood: skeptical] [current music: five to one- the doors] [random quote: no one here gets out alive, they got the guns, we got the numbers...] ~*~ 02.05.03 - 1:17 p.m. disappearing comments AARRRGH! All my comments have disappeared! What's *up* with that?!? [current mood: annoyed] [current music: I've Got A Feeling -- Pearl Jam] [random quote: ] ~*~ 02.05.03 - 11:38 a.m. frail and bedazzled - I love that phrase. so evocative. More first lines up in the LJ, and god, do I have the most mainstream, bourgeois taste in books or what? Oh well, I comfort myself that although I've gotten rid of Sartre and thus lost any existential/indie cred I may have had (and in a spectacular bit of selflessness, actually gave away Les Enfants Terrible, a book I actually quite liked but knew I'd never read again), I also don't have any craptacular Anne Rice anymore. There's a woman who should have stopped after her first book, or put under the charge of a very strict team of editors. Gah. I'm working on the Giles fic, or rather, not working on it. I'm completely unaware of what I'm planning to do, which sucks, because well, okay, after he exits his nightmares, something has to happen, or it's not a story. It's just a collection of interesting (I hope) images that haunt him. For a story to be a story, it requires praxis (one of the few Greek terms I still remember. God, I loved the classes in the Epic and Greek tragedy (one class on the Epic and one on tragedy, just to be clear) that I took in college. If I had had any facility for languages at all, I might have been swayed to be a Classicist. You can't beat Euripides. You really can't. My big paper/writing sample for when I was going to go to grad school was on a comparison of the three Electras and how the triptych of plays was sort of an early precursor to the narrative kaleidoscope provided by authors like Faulkner 2500 years later, in books like The Sound and the Fury and filmmakers like Kurosawa in movies like Rashomon. One story, three different versions, and taken together, they form a narrative of the evolution of Greek society. God, that was an interesting paper.) And man, this is a big tangent. What was I talking about? Oh yeah - for a story to be a story, something has to *happen*, even if it's just a decision being made or in some cases, not made. (If you choose not to decide you still have made a choice. And hey, where else can you go from Euripides to Rush in three sentences? Huh?) So Giles has to *do* something. Ooh! And I think I know what he's going to do. I mean, I kinda knew, but... yeah, I think that'll work. Now I just have to write it. And pick Pete's librarian brain a little. And look something up when I get home tonight. I hope this works. I don't think I'm being very ambitious at all. Just... I dunno. I'm also trying to figure out what comes next. I need to finish this, I need to pick a story to remix (already gotten two of the stories in! Whee!), possibly put together some recs... I did almost all the betaing I had sitting in my inbox. One left, which I will get to shortly if Giles remains uncooperative. Also, thanks to Mhari, who pointed me there, I read some lovely Eowyn/Faramir stories last night, thus restoring my faith in this earliest of my ships. Of course, the stories are book based (explicitly referring to Faramir's raven hair and grey eyes. I have nothing against David Wenham. He actually looks like he could be Sean Bean's brother. But he is NOT Faramir.), and if you haven't read the books, I've just spoiled RotK for you, but hey, whose fault is that? Get thee gone and read LotR all the way through like the rest of us! And now I'm totally lost on what I was originally posting about. I'm sure I have actual work to do, but god knows if I can remember what that is, either. Oh, and Haloscan appears to be out, so if you want to comment, you can use the LJ. Which is called 'frail and bedazzled'. I wish I'd come up with that phrase. I love that phrase. So evocative. Also, I need to write a story called "The Weight of Heaven." Also, one called "Hard Eight." Don't know why or what they'll be about, but those are two of my must use titles. ~victoria link [current mood: ditzy] [current music: touch me - the doors] [random quote: Gondor has no King. Gondor *needs* no King.~Boromir, FotR] ~*~ 02.04.03 - 10:57 p.m. fbfs and tuesday tv My list of fictional boyfriends and thoughts on tonight's Buffy and SV eps are up in the LJ. The money porn is with DD now, and I feel all accomplished. Daddy taped GG for me, the hot water is back and I didn't have to call my assweasel super, so life is good. Oh, and Sean Astin directed tomorrow night's Angel. Who knew? What's next? ~victoria link [current mood: tired] [current music: can't hardly wait - replacements] [random quote: jesus rides beside me, he never buys any smokes] ~*~ 02.04.03 - 3:56 p.m. Damp!Logan money-porn takes a turn for the serious Okay, whoever keeps reading my poetry page on my site, please stop. I really need to take that down. ::shudders:: In other news, the money!porn just took a really serious turn, which is bad. I mean, yeah, logically, Rogue is right to be pissed, but... it's supposed to be a fun little PWP. No Important Issues allowed. So I'm cutting/rewriting this part: He woke suddenly, when cool air brushed over him in the spot where Rogue had been curled against him. She was bent over the night table, legs straight, ass high in the air, and he was immediately ready for round three. He got up and walked over to her coat, which lay on the floor. He had only one thought in his head, and it required the condoms in her jacket pocket. When he straightened, he noticed what she was doing. She had the roll of hundred dollar bills in her hand. “I’ll just take two, sugar,” she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Is that the going rate?” “What?” “When Sonia approached me down in the bar, she said I’d get paid--" He was across the room like a shot, pulling her around and upright to face him. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She held up the money. “You want to get paid for --" he couldn’t even say it. He gestured angrily at the bed. “Obviously, you’re only interested in a one night stand, Logan. If it hadn’t been me tonight, it’d would have been someone else, right?” His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He couldn’t think of anything to say, because he couldn’t deny she was right, and he didn’t want to lie. But now, things were different. “I followed you because I thought you cared, I thought you left because you were afraid of commitment, that you loved me but weren’t ready to settle down. I didn’t think all you wanted was a quick fuck with a whore.” She rubbed the money between her fingers. “I guess I was wrong.” She stared at him and her eyes were serious. ‘This can’t be happening,’ he thought. ‘It’s just another nightmare.’ He finally found his voice. “Rogue, please--" and damn, he sounded whiny. That wasn’t good. He cleared his throat and started again, pushing away the fingers of panic that had begun to clutch at his heart. “This has nothing to do with money.” She cocked a hip and crossed her arms, which did amazing things to her breasts. She huffed and snapped, “Eyes up here, Logan.” “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Look, you’re right. I don’t want to be tied down. Not even to you. But if I did want to, you would be the only one I want to with.” He felt a little proud of that bit of logic, but her face didn’t soften. “You want to be with me so much you left without word half an hour before we had a date.” “Oh. That.” She drummed her fingers against her arm and tapped her foot impatiently. “Yes. That.” “Okay, see, I needed to do this job. And, and you’re driving me crazy!” “*I’m* driving *you* crazy?” He loosened his grip on her arms so he could rub her arms, and took a step closer. “Yeah. I’m not in love with you. I’m not.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly covering yourself in glory, here, Logan.” “I’m not in love with you,” he repeated. “But, uh, if you want to be a couple, I could go for that.” “Oh you could, could you?” “Yeah. I mean, you’re not in love with me, either, right?” “Logan?” “Yeah?” “You’re a dick.” He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” *** A little more Josh/Donna than Logan/Rogue with the banter, as well, which reminds me, I need to get back to them. So I have to rewrite the end of the money!porn, get Logan off the hook and keep it light. Sigh. DD, you better appreciate this. ~victoria link [current mood: annoyed] [current music: hey hey what can I do? - zeppelin] [random quote: 'Cause if he ever saw it, it was through these eyes of mine And if he ever suffered it was me who did his crying] ~*~ 02.04.03 - 9:34 a.m. just call me Quivering Blancmange Passion Has Red Lips is finished, posted, coded and up. Go me. I spent most of last night reading Gilmore Girls transcripts. In fact, I ended up staying up until 3am reading Gilmore Girls transcripts. I still have no in to Luke's head, and I really think I ought to see the episode again, but since I don't have it on tape, that's not very likely. I wanna finish DD's money!porn and then get back to other important things, like Draco/Hermione and Josh/Donna. And of course, the eleventy million L/R WsIP I have. Plus Giles. And my Remix fic, whatever it ends up being. Unfortunately, I think it's going to be another bad week, since there was no hot water last night or this morning. I don't want to call my fuckhead of a super about it, but I suppose I ought to. Even though I heard someone talking to someone else about it last night, since I don't know who-all the conversants were, I can't rely on them to fix my problem, right? Maybe I'll get the wife when I call. She seems nice enough, if sullen. I just need to eat my bagel, drink my coffee, and screw my courage to the sticking place. Sigh. Stupid grown up things. I wish I could call my dad and *he* could take care of the super. When do you get that confidence and that ability to just demand what's owed you in terms of service/support? I mean, at work I can do it. But in my own life? I'm a quivering blancmange when it comes to this sort of thing. I *hate* it. Meanwhile some people need to get a clue and realize that their literal interpretation of everything not only makes them total wet rags, it also precludes anything in the way of a sense of humor, and that, in my opinion, is one of the few Unforgivable Sins in life. ~victoria link [current mood: tired] [current music: Young Americans - Bowie] [random quote: Climbed over mountains Traveled the sea Cast out of heaven Cast down on my knees / I've lain with the devil Cursed God abov] ~*~ 02.03.03 - 11:52 a.m. I should just shut up and get to writing, right? More first lines, chosen at random off my bookshelf: The big kitchen of the Murrys' home was bright and warm, curtains drawn against the dark outside, against the rain driving past the house from the northeast. ~A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Madeleine L'Engle The night before he went to London, Richard Mayhew was not enjoying himself. ~Neverwhere, Neil Gaiman "Really," I said, "Cairo is becoming overrun with tourists these days -- and many of them no better than they should be! I am sorry to see so fine a hotel as Shepheard's allowing those male persons to hang about the entrance making eyes at the lady guests. Their behavior is absolutely scandalous." ~Seeing a Large Cat, Elizabeth Peters It takes a second to shoot a man. Thinking about it takes the rest of one's life. ~The Knowledge of Water, Sarah Smith Robert Cohn was once middleweight boxing champion of Princeton. ~The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway I went back to the Devon School not long ago, and found it looking oddly newer than when I was a student there fifteen years before. ~A Separate Peace, John Knowles It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. ~Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through the woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof. ~Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross carried letters from a girl named Martha, a junior at Mount Sebastian College in New Jersey. ~The Things They Carried, Tim O'Brien When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. ~To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee ~*~ Am trying to finalize the lipstick fic and am now daunted by reading some truly wonderful first lines. Sigh. You wouldn't think such an easy story would be so hard to edit but ::cuts eyes at DD:: there were some plotholes that needed spackling. After this, I think the money!porn is going to get written, because it's PWP. It should be easy. Then I'll contemplate the longer/more intricate stuff, and also the Lukefic (and speaking of Luke - that's one of the names in the running for the baby, and when it got mentioned yesterday we all had different pop culture references relating to it. That's when Tim threatened to name a second kid Bo. God, I hope someday to find a Tim of my own. Maria is one lucky woman.), and speaking of Luke and pop culture references, I still keep thinking I need to write that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan break the bed fic, simply because it should be hilarious (exasperated Qui-Gon! Snarky Obi!), as well as a Qui-Gon is Han Solo's father fic (though Obi-Wan being Han's father would be hilarious, and so appropriate, if we stick with canon!Obi who likes to do shots while on the job and hang out in seedy diners, instead of fanon!Obi who's either prissy or whiny. Gah.), and well, too many ideas, too many WsIP, so I should just shut up and get to writing, right? Sigh. ~victoria link [current mood: frazzled] [current music: 32 flavors - ani difranco] [random quote: I'm beyond your peripheral vision so you might want to turn your head 'cause someday you're going to get hungry a] ~*~ 02.02.03 - 10:32 p.m. regency romance top ten first lines The shower was fun, but Monica has cats. This was bad because I didn't know it (or I knew it once and forgot), so I didn't take any benadryl. I was fine most of the day, but then we went to Maria's, and she also has a cat, and well, by that point, I was having itchy eyes and sneezing and after about half an hour breathing was becoming a problem. But it was a nice brunchy kind of shower - Monica is very Martha Stewarty - she made quiche and brownies and such, and it was small, so the gift-opening wasn't interminable, and the games were relatively painless... well, painless for me, as I refused to taste the ugly smelling babyfood. That was one of the games - identify the babyfood flavor by taste. Let me tell you, babies should band together and see this stuff outlawed, because except for the bananas and the apples'n'pears, it was all foul. And I mean foul in the very worst sense of "oh my god, I can't believe you made me taste that!" especially in regard to the greenbeans. ::shudder:: Then we went to Maria's and Jill and I counseled Tim on what the name of the child should be if it's a boy. I told him no Ferdinand and no Wesley. Because as much as I love Wesley on Angel, you know it's the name of a kid who gets rolled every day for his lunch money. Same with Ferdinand and Maurizio. I hope they go with Nathaniel, or Eamon, both of which I like a lot. If it's a girl, I think they're leaning toward Julia, though apparently Julia is the new Jennifer, and it's way trendy. Who knew? Then I came home and crashed, missing most of the Gilmore Girls ep that was on from 7-8. But I still think I'm going to write pining(angling)!Luke fic. Oh yes. Eventually. When I get my writing swerve on again. And I may have to figure out more Legolas/Eowyn, since many many searches lead people here. Interesting, because really? Not the most obvious pairing. It's got to be mainly, Legloas/Aragorn and Aragorn/Eowyn by proxy, right? Because I don't think Legolas and Eowyn speak two words to each other the whole time... Or, it could be Gimli/Eowyn and that could sort of be Eowyn/Legolas and Legolas/Gimli by proxy, because the elf and the dwarf haven't worked out their romance yet, and Gimli is quite the charmer. I still am going to write Legolas/Aragorn bath fic, as well. Because my stories always end up in the bathroom, somehow or another. ~*~ In a slight twist on the First Lines meme, here are the first lines of my Ten Favorite Regency Romances (well, ten that I own. There are two or three that I don't have, like The Sugar Rose, and Scandal Broth and one or two others whose titles I can't recall). Francis William Arden, fourth Marquess of Warne, entered the breakfast room of his house on Upper Brook Street on a wet March morning, knowing he would find Cornelius Bellaby ahead of him and wondering how he was to tell his friend that he had decided to marry. ~An Improper Widow, Kate Moore Like a shadow come to life, Ashley Hawkes Castleford, fourth Earl of Henley, detached himself from the deep, early morning shadows where he watched, with cynical interest, the house he leased in Heddon Street. ~The Silent Suitor, Elisabeth Fairchild There was a heavy rain falling on the dusty, dry road between Winchester and London. The parched, rutted road drank the moisture in thirstily for a few moments, then tired of the bounty and sullenly gave over the potholes to the rapidly collecting rain. A crack of thunder, a jolt as the ancient landau hit a water-filled rut, and the dark-clad woman was thrown roughly to the side of the carriage. She was traveling alone, as she had for the past two years, and allowed herself the luxury of a good, solid, English "damn." ~The Spinster and the Rake, Anne Stuart There was only one occupant of the coach, a gentleman who sprawled very much at his ease, with his legs stretched out before him, and his hands dug deep in the capacious pockets of his greatcoat. ~Devil's Cub, Georgette Heyer Not until the third morning out of Boston did Hannah Whittier discover that she cared whether she lived or died. ~~Miss Whittier Makes a List, Carla Kelly The news of his wife's death caught the Earl of Everdon in his mistress's bed. ~Deirdre and Don Juan, Jo Beverley When a virtuous man performs an act of valor, soon all in his acquaintance are marveling at the deed. In truth, even virtuous men enjoy the well-deserved acclaim of their peers. However, if the man in question is of a dour, taciturn nature, then the deed often goes unannounced, and thus, unacclaimed. ~Lord Monteith's Gift, Nancy Butler The thunderstorm was entirely to blame. Without it, all the problems that developed later just would not have happened. Without it she would never in a million years have taken him for a lover. ~The Notorious Rake, Mary Balogh Roxanna Drew was not a lady to trespass on anyone's property, even if the landlord was out of the country, but she had a blister on her foot, and the grass in Moreland Park looked so inviting. If she took off her shoes and stockings, she could cross that field barefooted and cut three miles off her return route. ~Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand, Carla Kelly "You make such a charming bride, my dear," her father whispered from his position in the receiving line. ~Scandal Bound, Anita Mills "So the day of reckoning has finally arrived." A wicked glint brightened Sophia Tremayne's sharp old eyes. "You have danced to your own tune for thirty years, my lad, but the time has come to pay the piper." ~The Duke's Dilemma, Nadine Miller Now I want to reread all of these. Sigh. ~victoria link [current mood: sleepy] [current music: perfect circle- rem] [random quote: drink another, coin a phrase, a perfect circle of acquaintances and friends...] ~*~ 02.01.03 - 10:32 p.m. Fiat Lux I've got the power! When I got home last night, still no power. I was a wee bit tipsy, but I called Con Ed and they said they'd done their part, now my super had to flip the switch in the basement to give me the juice. I stumbled into bed, and when I got up this morning, called the super. Who proceeded to tell me that "it's not my job to touch the circuit breakers and if you paid your bills you wouldn't have this problem." Which, needless to say, was not the appropriate tack to take with me, as I was hungover and had been without power since Wednesday, due to Con Ed's fuckwittage. I should have told him it was none of his damn business when or whether I pay my bills, to shut the fuck up and turn on my power. But I let him distract me for a moment, and then got on point again. And five minutes later, I had lights. Fuckers. I hate them all. Of course, as soon as I turned on the lights, the radio and the television, I heard about the Columbia disaster and well... sometimes being in the dark is better. So sad. Still haven't actually processed the whole thing, because I was out all day shopping. The watchwords for the past two days have been anger, avarice, gluttony and sloth. Saw Chicago last night. Loved it. More spoilie version of my thoughts will be up in the LJ soon, but mainly, loved it. Thought CZJ and RZ were wonderful and was satsified with Gere's performance - he'd been the big question mark in my mind, as I couldn't imagine him singing and dancing. But he did well. Then we went to dinner and I had two chocolate martinis (nummy treats!) and a glass of pinot grigio, so like I said, I was kinda sleepy/buzzed when I got home, and very, very full. Then this afternoon Leslie and I met up and I bought a gift for the baby shower I'm going to tomorrow, and spent the rest of the big gift certificate I got for Christmas from my bosses. Instead of buying something for the apartment, which is what they suggested, I got the baby things (layette stuff and basic things like t-shirts and onesies) for Maria, a birthday gift for Helen (whose birthday is next week), plus some very cool earrings, a few lipstics (Media and Mystic from MAC, plus one called Pinstripe from Lancome that I can't pick up until March because they're doing some kind of promotional thingy and if I wait, I'll get the free gift. So I'm waiting. *g*), an oily skin skincare regimen from Origins, and some new bras and underwear. Leslie encourages conspicuous consumption, especially in the lipstick area, which is one of my weaknesses, anyway. Then we had pizza and hung around Dylan's Candy Bar, waiting to go see The Recruit, because Colin Farrell = mmmm..., but then we figured we'd spent enough money in the past 24 hours, and headed back to my apt., where we watched Fellowship of the Cast and the first half of FotR with the cast commentary on (she didn't love Dom like I do. But she's all about the Sean Bean love. I told her when my Sharpe dvds come, she'll have to come over and watch. *g*) and then went to the diner for dinner. So it was a long, enjoyable day with lots of money that wasn't mine being spent and god, I ate more than can possibly be healthy. I didn't really - I had two slices for lunch, and then an iced mocha latte at Dylan's, then we had microwave popcorn while watching the movie and then chicken fingers and a vanilla shake for dinner. Yet I feel like I'm going to explode. I also feel like I'm a little tipsy, which is odd, since I didn't drink at all. Could be coming down off the adrenaline high of having lights and power again. Or it could be that since I've been sleeping like crap, I'm just tired and woozy from that. And I have to go to Brooklyn tomorrow. ::sighs dramatically:: Oh, the funniest thing - in Only Child, Burke meets a girl who looks Puerto Rican, until she opens her mouth. Then he knows she's "pure Ozone Park Italian." Hee! I'm in a book! Unfortunately, I know exactly what he's talking about, and it's not really a compliment. Then today, the woman helping us out at the Lancome counter - I got one earful of her and leaned over and said to Leslie - "Italian. Brooklyn or Staten Island." And I was right. Denise from Brooklyn. Leslie was amazed, but I know my people, because god, I've spent so much time trying to get away from them and never being mistaken for one of them. I almost bought this gorgeous suit, and there was another skirt - a chinoiserie gold embroidered flowers on black silk number - that I really wanted, but both would have been a bad length for me. I am unfortunately a hair taller than necessary to be petite, and yet not tall enough to wear 'regular' length clothes. I hate that. I have to get everything hemmed, and skirts that hit the knee on slightly taller women hit me at that deadly just below the knee length that no one - and I do mean NO ONE - carries off well. Sigh. At least Lands End will do the hemming/cuffing for free. It's so unfair that men get their suits and such altered for free and women usually have to pay. Fuckers. Just like women's haircuts are so much more expensive than men's. So. Wrong. And now I'm rambling. So let me just leave you with one last, but not least, item: I updated the site, adding Heaven Dissolved So, the Legolas/Eowyn comfort fic. ~victoria link [current mood: wiped] [current music: Homeward Bound - Simon & Garfunkel] [random quote: You must never be cowed by authority. Except, of course, in this instance when I am clearly right, and you are clearly wrong.] ~*~ previous - next DiaryLand 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