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

04.01.03 - 9:14 a.m. It should be me I said it last night in the LJ and I'll say it again now. Go see Bend It Like Beckham. Now. I'll wait. Absolutely wonderful movie. Touching, funny as hell, true. Plus Jonathan Rhys-Meyers. Pretty pretty. ~*~ Remember yesterday I said I wasn't superstitious? I may have lied. I broke a mirror this morning. As today is Tuesday, and Tuesdays historically sucketh like unto hoovers, and well, there are things going on that lead me to believe today will be another in a long line of really BAD Tuesdays, I can't help but think breaking a mirror I used for the past 12 years is ... an omen. I know it's not. I know my dropping the mirror is more about my being worried and distracted because of certain things, but I can't help but feel a chill whenever I think about it. And I realize that I would, once again, prefer the bad luck to be mine. It should be me. It should. That it's not upsets me. Which is one of the most selfish things ever. Because the bad things should happen to ME. Because then I could be all noble and suffering. Or actually, be whiny and angry, but still. It'd be me, which means they'd be safe. I hate that they're not safe and I can't keep them safe. I hate it. I also hate that I'm a pessimist and I can't think of any other explanation, and that I know too much about it and.... The cryptic doesn't suit me, but it's not my story and it's not confirmed and I hope to god it's something else. Because as cosmic April Fool's jokes go, this one is NOT funny. ~victoria link [current mood: upset] [current music: Thunder Road - Bruce] [random quote: what else can we do now but roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair] ~*~ 03.31.03 - 3:45 p.m. Inheritances, mach 3 Aragorn's worldly possessions, take 3 (take 1 and take 2 for comparison.. Note, takes 2 and 3 are not the complete story; take 1 is complete but sketchy on the deets): Aragorn accumulates heirlooms the way he accumulates names. He hasn't much he thinks of as his own, though the others would laugh if he said that. But his possessions are as such: --Boots, well-made black leather fitted by the hand of a master cobbler and worn from walking the Wilderness lo these many years. --Bow, small and ungainly compared with the bows of the Galadhrim, carved by his own hand and as useful as it is unprepossessing. He is a passable archer, though none would ever mistake him for a bowman of the Elves. Elladan (possibly Elrohir? Check and see if either is a better archer than the other) taught him to shoot in his youth in Rivendell, and his time in Mirkwood under Legolas' tutelage made him confident in his ability to both bring down enemies and hunt for food. --Pipe, also hand-carved over lonely nights in the wild, the sole pleasure he allows himself while on the road. --The ring he wears on his forefinger, a tangible remembrance of his mother. It was his father’s, and his father’s father’s before him, all the way back to Beren Erchamion. But he remembers it hanging on a delicate silver chain around his mother’s neck, and the way the emerald eyes of the twined serpents caught the light, bringing them alive momentarily, to a small boy. She used to let him play with it, much to Elrond’s consternation. It is all he has of her now, and more precious to him for that association than because of its high and ancient provenance. --The clothes on his back, though he has occasionally had to borrow or work for them when need arose, for there are many in these troubled times who look askance at the strange, grim Men who walk the wild, and not all people are willing to help a stranger in need. His sword is his own, plain but well made, wrought by the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. He commissioned it several years ago, when the sword he'd been given in his service to Echthelion had been broken. The sword has no storied past, no name sung in ancient tales of Elves and Men and evil overthrown. Any fame accrued to it belongs to him, as a Ranger of the North, and nothing more. He is becoming reconciled to the hunting knife Celeborn presented him; it is a thing of lethal beauty, and useful besides. He tries not to think of the long years of warfare it has seen in the hands of Elf-lords of legend. He tells himself it has naught to do with his past, but it comes out of fallen Doriath, realm of Thingol, father of Luthien. Regardless of where he goes or what he does, Aragorn is surrounded by his past, his family. His heritage. These are all his worldly goods, as far as he's concerned, and they sit lightly on his shoulders. *** Details on the sword and hunting knife/curved dagger thingy are my own (Celeborn is from Doriath. It's a possibility), and the Ring of Barahir being worn by Gilraen is also my own, but the ring really did pass down from Barahir through one of Feanor's sons to Beren, and all the way through his line. You can see it on Aragorn's hand in numerous shots, so why wouldn't Gilraen wear a memory of her dead husband? Hmmm? And yes, the precious reference is deliberate). I haven't even *begun* tackling the rest of the story. Aragorn's list of possessions keeps growing, but I'm cutting it off there: clothes, boots, pipe, bow, sword, knife, ring. Obviously, the accoutrements (arrows, quiver, belt, scabbard, his leaf clasp from Lorien etc.) are his, but even I'm not that anal. In other news, my hair? FABulous now, thanks to this woman Natalia who cut it and spent forty minutes blowing it straight. And they're playing "The Ballad of John and Yoko" which I will now forever associate with Viggo Mortensen and Karl Urban. "The newspapers said, hey what you doing in bed I said we're only trying to get us some peace" ~victoria link [current mood: FABulous] [current music: The Ballad of John and Yoko - John Lennon] [random quote: christ you know it ain't easy you know how hard it can be the way things are going they're gonna crucify me] ~*~ 03.31.03 - 10:30 a.m. morbidity, X2 and Opening Day I woke up this morning to the image of myself dead on the LIRR. It wasn't a dream. It was definitely an image after I woke up. From natural causes. Just... dead. ::shakes head:: Luckily, I'm morbid, not superstitious. Lots of people are getting their Remix/Redux stories in, which, as today is the deadline, makes me a happy camper. After I get them all, I will be putting them up on the site. Most likely, in order to satisfy those who wish to guess who wrote what, I'll white out the authors' names and then after a few days, change the stylesheet to reveal them. That way, people who want to know right away can know, and people who want to guess can guess, and I can keep as many people happy at one time as possible. Yeah, I'm a pleaser. ::snicker:: I'm also a lousy, lousy archivist. I don't even deserve the name. I meant to reopen XMMFFA as a hrmm... not panel-reviewed, but not an open submission archive, but more as a collection of good XMM fic. And meh. I suck. Too easily distracted, and also, just not at the place where I really want to be heavily involved in infrastructure. I just don't want the responsibility of updating and keeping people happy and dealing with it. I was hoping to have it open and running by the time X2 came out, but with a month to go, I'm seriously doubting that will happen. Especially with my own XMM love on the wane, currently. Who knows? The movie may surprise me and kick me back into high gear, but stuff I hear just doesn't... resonate with me. I mean, look, I never expected to Logan and Rogue as lovers on screen. I never expected more than a deepening of the tentative friendship that was forged in the first movie. And maybe we'll get that. But the apparent adherence to the tired old Logan/Jean/Scott triangle just... meh. It vexes me. I'm terribly vexed. I think I've settled quite comfortably into my BOFQness, sitting in the corner/on the fringes, muttering about how back in my day you had to post to six different lists to get noticed and nobody expected the PTB to hand them the HoYay on a silver platter! Of course, I think I was a BOFQ from the moment I entered fandom, so.... In other fannish news, Opening Day today. I'm annoyed on Al Leiter's behalf that Tom Glavine is pitching today. I'm pretty sure, from what I've seen of Leiter, that he doesn't care, but as a fan, I think that even though Glavine is allegedly now the 'ace' of the staff, I'd rather have the guy who's been with the team for the past few years pitching. But that's just me. I could be wrong. Also, I have no recollection of Opening Day ever being in March. It's way early. And too damn cold for baseball. But that doesn't stop the little thrill I get from knowing that sometime this afternoon, the ump will call out, "Play ball!" and the season will begin. ~victoria link [current mood: rambly] [current music: Who Do You Love - George Thorogood] [random quote: \"Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this!\" Tony Soprano] ~*~ 03.30.03 - 10:27 p.m. strange nostalgia spoilery Alias thoughts up in the LJ. Just got an email that one of my old college friends and his wife are expecting a baby. I... This is weird. It was weird when he got married and it's weird that they're going to have a baby. I really haven't been in touch with him in ages - I get all my news second-hand through Jean, and I've seen his brother more often than I've seen him in the past few years, but... Weird. In a way that Diana having babies, or Maria having a baby, wasn't. Lee will understand when I tell her. Glenda probably will too. Because they know, and in Lee's case, probably feel similarly. I dreamt last night that I married an old childhood friend, one I know has been married for ages, and who I have not seen in oh, a good ten years. My head hurts. ~victoria link [current mood: weird] [current music: Dragnet in the background] [random quote: \"The place got hit by lightning and World War Three started in the lounge? Fuck you, pay me.” Henry Hill, Goodfellas] ~*~ 03.29.03 - 4:21 p.m. weird searches, weird dreams Last night I dreamt about a Notre Dame-Michigan football game. Notre Dame won in the last seconds because they intercepted what would have been a touchdown for Michigan. The dream flashed forward I don't know how long, and the Michigan quarterback was dead and the Notre Dame cornerback (or was he a safety?) sent the wide receiver in front of whom he cut to catch the ball a cake with a nasty message on it. Something about how he'll never be a winner now. ::shakes head:: Why am I dreaming of college football? Though I have been a Michigan Wolverines fan since I was 9-10. Then I had another dream, that had to do with LJ, but I can't remember what it was, so I'm not writing about it over there. In a few minutes, we'll be leaving to go to Anthony V's birthday dinner. I'm just going to drop this in here for Bethy and other random freaks searchers: necrophiliac prawn fellatio. Also, combustible comestibles and dishevelled rhinoplasty. If people are gonna search for weirdass shit, why shouldn't I just give it to them, eh? ~victoria link [current mood: amenable, also, goofy] [current music: Levon - Elton John] [random quote: \"God have mercy on the man who doubts what he's sure of.\" - \"Brilliant Disguise\" - Bruce Springsteen] ~*~ 03.28.03 - 10:25 p.m. PSA-Updates Things you should know about. Well, a thing you should know about: March recs are up at Bright Shiny Objects. If you're looking to read some good fic, you ought to go and check it out. 61 stories in 19 fandoms, gen, het and slash. I think that manages to hit something for everyone. In slightly less important news, Stray is up on my site now. I've finished my remix fic and can now get back to Aragorn and his gauntlets and his bath. Aren't you glad? ~victoria link [current mood: helpful] [current music: Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe - Barry White] [random quote: I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them. ~Jane Austen] ~*~ 03.28.03 - 3:01 p.m. Stray, v1.0 Little unbetaed ficlet, written on the fly for DD. Stray Rogue found Logan in the woods, as far from the house as he could be and still be on Xavier land. He was sweaty and dirty, and he was patting down fresh dirt with a shovel. "Hey." "Hey," he said without turning around. "I'm sorry about the dog." “She was old and in pain. Better off this way.” “Maybe, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.” He stopped, dropped the shovel. “What are you doing here, kid?” “I don’t like it when you hurt.” He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. “Don’t. You may think you hid it from everyone, but I saw you putting food out for her every night, and I know you played with her when no one was looking.” “She was a good dog.” “She loved you too.” “You think?” “I know. You’re pretty lovable, Logan.” He opened his arms and she fit into them like she was born to it. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Let’s not spread that around, huh?” “My lips are sealed.” He broke the embrace and picked up the shovel. He took her hand with his empty one, and they walked back to the mansion. “You think Chuck would mind having a dog around?” he asked when they were almost there. “You gonna let it stop you if he doesn’t?” He smiled, finally. “No, I don’t think so.” “Atta boy,” she said, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “Besides, the kids will love you for it. The big bad Wolverine and a little puppy dog.” He growled. “I’m not getting a little purse dog, Marie.” “Of course not.” “I’ll get something manly, like a Doberman, or, or a Rottweiler.” “Of course you will,” she said, knowing he’d go to North Shore and pick out the raggediest, cutest, most needy dog they had. “Kids oughta have a dog.” “Yeah.” “We’ll go tomorrow.” She nodded and he squeezed her hand. He no longer looked so sad. Mission accomplished. *** I seem to be in this mood today, because I just read Small Soldiers by Cori Lannam and almost lost it at my desk. Boromir and Faramir and their mother's death. ::sniffle:: I think I'm still riding the verklempt feelings from this morning. I'm feeling the fragility of life right now, and how everything is very close to breaking, me included. ~victoria link [current mood: shaky] [current music: While My Guitar Gently Weeps - Beatles] [random quote: “We’re just two lost souls living in a fish bowl year after year.” Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd] ~*~ 03.28.03 - 10:30 a.m. "I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back" I dropped a wad of cash the other day on Ultimate Spiderman comics for Victor's birthday, per his request. Well, he just requested Spiderman. Pete and Jen suggested Ultimate as being pretty good for a kid just starting out, and it didn't look too mature/adult, so I went for it. Nicki gets on the phone with me yesterday and in the middle of the conversation, she whispers, "Did you get Victor's Spiderman comics yet?" She's four. I tell her I'm not going to tell her. She persists. She says Victor's at school, so it's okay, I can tell her. This is about three minutes after she told me he was sitting at the computer playing games. I say, "I thought Victor was on the computer?" and she says, "No, *I'm* on the computer." She is such a little fibber in her quest for information. Finally, I said, "Did Victor ask for Spiderman comics?" "Yes." "Then do you think I got him what he asked for?" "Yes." "Well then..." And she had to be satisfied with that. She'll find out a week from tomorrow, at his birthday party. He's going to be seven. God, I remember how he didn't get to have a first birthday party because he was so ill. But the doctor said he'd be in remission by his birthday, and by god, he was. Thank god for the pediatrician who picked up that something more was wrong, and who saw the deformed white blood cells, and sent him to the oncologist. THank god Dr. Weinblatt et al. went with the most aggressive course of chemo they could, even though it made him desperately ill and he spent more time in the hospital than out of it those first three years. Because he's fine now, and healthy, and he wants to be Spiderman when he grows up. And now I'm getting all verklempt, so I'll leave you alone. ~victoria link [current mood: thankful] [current music: Jeremy - Pearl Jam] [random quote: clearly I remember picking on the boy he seemed a harmless little fuck] ~*~ 03.27.03 - 11:11 p.m. 100 words Updated the site tonight with the two new drabbles: Caesura and Choosing Sides. I like drabbles. They make me feel productive, even though I rarely manage to hit 100 words right on the nose. Drabbles are hard because they ought to be a whole story (scene/vignette) in 100 words, not 100 words from a larger story. Though I suppose that sometimes that's what a vignette is, but the best drabbles work on their own, with a big punch to the gut at the end. Unanon has started The X-Men 100, which, like the Wednesday 100 in Smallville is a community for drabbles in that particular fandom. Should be fun. After all my nattering about music earlier, I seem to be on a big Motown kick tonight. Don't know why. ~victoria link [current mood: accomplished] [current music: I've Got to Use My Imagination - Gladys Knight and the Pips] [random quote: I've really got to use my imagination to think of good reasons to keep on keeping on] ~*~ 03.27.03 - 10:11 a.m. there was a huge inflatable mini-golf course I finally found new music I like. I know, I know, it's sad - pathetic, even - how out of it musically I am these days. I tried the White Stripes/Strokes thing and was, well, disappointed. I think I was misinformed because while they were all right (Strokes more than Stripes), they weren't what I was expecting, which is Kinks-like. That's what I was told. "The Kinks for the 21c." And dude, when you come down to it, very few bands are cooler than the Kinks. But no. However, I have been grooving on that Evanescence song - I have no idea what the name of it is, or where it came from, but god, it's good. Even the lame rapping part isn't that lame. Speaking of which, am I the only one who wishes that that guy in Linkin Park would stop *whining* when he sings? My god, he makes me want to claw my eardrums with that whine. So nasal. I want to like them, I do. I want to put them in my guilty pleasures category with Kid Rock (skanky and disgusting and yet oh-so-hot) and Limp Bizkit (moronic but fun). But no, every time I hear that voice I just want to say, "Grow the fuck up and stop *whining*. Metal singers shouldn't sound like whiny teenagers! They should growl like James Hetfield or howl like Trent Reznor!" Of course, this musical malaise isn't helped by the fact that I can't tune K-Rock in at work, so I listen to Q-104 all day, which means the newest thing I get to hear is from 1988. Okay, that's an exaggeration, because they do play new stuff by classic artists like Bruce and U2, but they barely even play Nirvana. If they can't even unbend that much, you know I'm not hearing anything new and different on this station. Which is fine, except they play way too much Tull and Yes, which ought to be banned from the airwaves and only played once a year. This is what makes me feel old, man, because I used to be on the fringes, I knew new stuff six months before the mainstream. And now? I don't even know the name of the relatively new song I like! Grrr... Arrggh. *** Last night I dreamt that we were being rounded up and put away. I'm not quite sure who "we" were, aside from my family (immediate and extended) or *why*, but we organized and went underground, with the help of Angel Inveestigations and an nameless Elf I'd never seen before. Apparently they didn't all go over the sea ::snicker:: So there was much running, and Angel pretending to be Angelus to scare the soldiers away, and we drove all the way down to Florida, and I was like, "We're running out of South. We need to go West!" And driving down a set of marble spiral stairs, wide enough to fit a big old Buick. Or maybe it was an old Oldsmobile Delta 88. I don't recall exactly. It might have been Aunt Elizabeth's old, old car, the teal blue one with the black satin interior. Little Elizabeth was driving, though. I remember that. And there was a huge inflatable mini-golf course. ::shakes head:: Perhaps I ought to get to work now. Oh, the final version of Caesura can be read here or here. I'll probably upload it to Muse's Fool tonight. ~victoria link [current mood: bemused] [current music: Us and Them - Pink Floyd] [random quote: How long must I suffer? Dear God, I've served my time This love becomes my torture This love, my only crime] ~*~ 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