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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the five Ws, or, all about me

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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
  • 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)

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  • Alias

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  • West Wing

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  • The Simpsons

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10.26.03 - 10:14 p.m.

would you like some cheese with that whine?

So my dad has been taping Angel for me. This is a good, right?

Except that there are now three episodes on his TiVo that I have been unable to watch, because they're always watching something when I'm here.

Gah.

Daddy said, "You could get up Sunday morning at eight and watch."

And I was like, "But only until 10, when Sports Reporters is on." (And honestly? My commitment to Angel isn't anywhere near that strong. As you can see by how little I'm bothered by not seeing the last three episodes.)

We did watch Raiders tonight, but only because he wanted to see what it'd look like on his new television.

Which means that there was a whole lot of "Does it look better like this or like that?" going on during the movie. Which drives me batshit.

Sigh.

At least the Giants won today. It was a near thing.

~victoria



link

[current mood: whiny]
[current music: Fields of Gold - Eva Cassidy]
[random quote: I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I've broken]

~*~

10.25.03 - 8:12 p.m.

The Other White Meat

I actually got things done today. This is good. Bought Mommy's birthday present and Nicole's, and a couple items for myself, as well. Two blouses and a skirt/sweater combo. Well, Daddy bought those for me. 'Cause I have the best Daddy.

Also managed to finish and post the next in my series of ficlets, Wounded, Not Even Dead, a Peter rants at Remus piece, set shortly after OotP. It's up in the LJ. Haven't coded yet.

You know what I have to do whenever I add a story?

I have to update 4 indices and the front page. Gah. Why'd I made so many indices?

Oh yeah, ease of use. *snerk*

Meanwhile, You Know You're Right and Before It Grows are both up on the site.

Now I'm contemplating making icons and trying to write more on the nightswimming story. Or the shirt fic. Which will be slightly angsty. Sigh.

I hate making my boys unhappy. Canon does that enough. I don't see why I need to do it, too.

Especially not when they're so hot when debauched...

I really need to learn how to use Paintshop to its full potential. All I'm capable of currently is cropping and sticking text on. And using effects to make things look really crappy.

I have no graphics skills, and this makes me sad.

Otherwise, I have new clothes, and I just had a piece of cheesecake, so life is good.

And there was steak for dinner.

My parents are on the Atkins diet. Have I mentioned this? Which means meals are a meat-lover's delight.

I have this odd relationship with eating meat. I love steak and chicken and burgers and loin of pork etc. But I can't think too much about it, either how they're raised, or killed or anything, or I go off it for weeks.

After reading My Year of Meats, I didn't eat beef for a month.

And let's not think about that, because as I said, I had steak for dinner.

Must go write porn and focus on ... the other white meat.

God, shoot me. I can't believe I just made that joke. Sigh.

~victoria



link



[current mood: silly]
[current music: You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling - Righteous Brothers]
[random quote: you never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips and there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips]

~*~

10.24.03 - 2:33 p.m.

it's a good day

Between the yummy salad I'm eating and the fact that this jacket will soon be mine, I'm a happy woman.

My LJ comment notifications, which have been MIA, are trickling in, both You Know You're Right (and yeah, I know the title doesn't fit, but it stuck and I couldn't change it) and Before It Grows have gotten a fabulous response, and DeeDee found this utterly *perfect* picture of MWPP-era Sirius and Remus, that I've been staring at all day. Plus, I nattered on about my favorite subject (Remus).

Good fic is being written by others, and it's Friday.

What is not to love here?

~victoria



link

[current mood: good]
[current music: Trip Through Your Wires - u2]
[random quote: “Work is the curse of the drinking classes.” Oscar Wilde]

~*~

10.23.03 - 1:14 p.m.

underwear!

So freaking cold again today.

At home, the heat's come on, and I just strip down to my underwear, because it's so warm. Here in the office, it's incredibly cold.

I don't understand why. It's after 10/15, which is usually when they put the heat up.

Speaking of underwear, I bought a bunch last night. The state of my underwear was lamentable. Embarrassing. Or it would be if anyone ever got to see me in it. Sigh.

So I went to VS on the way home and bought some new bras and panties. A necessary expense that also served to make me very happy. I love buying pretty underwear.

And again, I get distracted while writing a post, and lose my train of thought.

Before It Grows, my second person Snapefic for the Two Lines Challenge, is up in the LJ.

Also, brief thoughts on Josh/Amy and why it doesn't work, and songfic, and why *it* doesn't work.

Hmmm... what do I want for lunch?

~victoria



link

[current mood: cold]
[current music: Celluloid Heroes - the Kinks]
[random quote: “Don’t think ‘cause I understand, I care. Don’t think ‘cause we’re talking, we’re friends.” - “6 Underground” - Sneaker Pimps]

~*~

10.22.03 - 3:13 p.m.

productivity leads to carpal tunnel. sigh.

AT&T mail is wonky again. It begins working and what's the first thing that arrives?

Spam.

Of course.

Grrr...

My arm is starting to hurt - my right arm, from wrist to elbow. Carpal tunnel, probably. I've been very productive, writing-wise, lately, and all the typing is taking its toll. Sigh.

Oh well, For Still Temptation Follows, a brief Josh/Amy, Josh/Donna piece, is up on the site, and I'm busily revising my Two Lines Challenge fic, which did turn out to be the second person Snupin I was thinking about. Snupin. Me. What is this world coming to?

New West Wing tonight. I hope it's good. I so want it to be good, after the weirdness of the first three eps with the new team. Let them get into the rhythm. And let them not let it become the Josh/Amy show, or I will stop watching.

Sigh.

Sleepy now. Gonna go distrubute the mail and then eat my chocolate mousse cake.

And think about the plot bunny I sicced on Pru last night, that's been rattling around in my brain for ages. It's too angsty for me to write. Sigh.

I'll maybe work on one of these instead...

And why does "Last Train to Clarksville" always remind me of "Don't Go Back to Rockville"?

~victoria



link

[current mood: achy]
[current music: Last Train to Clarksville - The Monkees]
[random quote: \"In my life why do I smile at people who I'd much rather kick in the eye?\" - \"Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now\"]

~*~

10.21.03 - 1:18 p.m.

The Marriage of Language and Story

*snicker*

They just played "I'll Be There For You" by Bon Jovi, which always reminds me of the day Lee and I began belting that out on the street somewhere here in the city, embarrassing Jessica to no end.

Ah, the good old days, when we could make asses of ourselves in public and were young enough for it to be deemed cute and eccentric rather than sad and strange.

Speaking of how the good old days are gone, another college friend just became a dad.

Scary.

And speaking of college, Marina Rusalka has an interesting discussion about writers loving Language or Story (or both, I guess) (and this relates to college because she is an alumna of the same college I went to).

She writes:

Whenever writers, fannish or pro, talk about writing -- how they do it, why they do it, what got them started on it, etc -- there's always the obligatory mention of being "in love with Words." Or maybe "in love with Language." This always makes me feel left out, because I'm not in love with Language. I like Language. I respect it, and appreciate its fine qualities, and wish it well in its future relationships. But I'm not in love with it. I'm in love with Story. Or at least in serious lust with Story. I'd make out with Story on the kitchen table. If I had a kitchen table.

I wrote, in response:
Story to me, will always lag far behind Language. I love Language in all its twisty-turny, can't-quite-pin-down, but-yes-exactly-that, eighteen million ways to say one thing and you're still not sure you got it *right* because it can all mean so many different things infurating-ness.

Story is nice. Other people need to be in love with Story, so I have something good to read. But when I write, I'm far more into the words/rhythm than I am the story.

I think it's partly because I wrote poetry more seriously and with more facility than I used to write prose.

Of course, I'm also the queen of the Plotless Character Ramble. I can spin out banter or internal monologue for *pages* without a story going anywhere. I realize that for readers, this may be uninteresting, and I do try to cut back on it, but it's the part of writing I like best.

And I do think it comes from thinking like a poet - I'm constantly aware of the rhythm of my sentences and paragraphs. I care that this is a one word sentence or a one sentence paragraph. When I do that (and I do it a lot) there's a *reason*, and it's not just, 'new thought, new paragraph,' though that's some of it. Some of it is emphasis, some of it is visual impact on the page...

OF course, some of that could also be from writing copy and trying to *sell* something. Short! Punchy! More verbs!

Ah Eddie Ed, I don't miss you at all, you crazy boss man.

So yeah, I'd say my love of Language far outstrips my love of Story *as a writer*. As a reader... I'd much rather read a story than a lot of poetic crap on a page that doesn't mean anything.

Double standard, much?

I mean, if it illuminates the character, then I'm all for it. But I read a fic the other day - it was like the girl had opened her thesaurus and found the most obscure, Romantic Poet way of saying absolutely everything - I mean, she could have been writing, "I have to go take a whiz" and you wouldn't know it because it was all high-flown poetic language and it just. didn't. parse.

Not to mention the character would probably not, at the age of 14, be thinking in those terms.

But whatever. I do the same thing.

It can be argued that Josh Lyman would never ever think like this, and I'd probably agree. That didn't stop me from writing it, though.

It's not only my lack of ability to structure a story that gets in my way when writing long stuff, it's my disinterest in the whole process. Language should serve Story. I believe that. I really do. I just prefer things the other way around when I write. The medium *is* the message for me, rather than a vehicle to put the message forth. And don't think it doesn't drive my betas crazy sometimes.

I like to comfort myself sometimes that at least I know what I'm doing - that I'm doing it intentionally - but sometimes I know I'm just being lazy.

Obviously, the best writing, in my opinion, marries the love of Language to the love of Story, each serves the other and carries the whole thing forward.

But that doesn't happen all that often. At least not in my writing. Sigh.

~victoria



link

[current mood: thoughtful. also, cold.]
[current music: Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) - Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band]
[random quote: \"You can hold onto something so tight You've already lost it\" - Dirty Day, U2]

~*~

10.20.03 - 2:40 p.m.

Barrage of ficness! Plus, hatses!

Lessee.

I've been on a fic writing tear. I don't know if I've mentioned that or not.

Ficlet, rather.

So if anyone wants me to write a ficlet for them and wants to provide an opening line or some words or something, I'm game. No laundry lists, though, and no trying to force pairings. I'm talking things like, "angry, elephant, Ron" (I keep using this example; I may just have to write it) or "His mother always said he'd come to a bad end."

Ficlet #1 Sex, Threat, Disguise, is here (Sirius/Remus, MWPP era).

Ficlet #2 The Unkindest Cut, is here (Snape, Harry, narrative present).

Ficlet #3 is forthcoming, Leather and Velvet - Faith/Wes. *g*

Also, Film Theory, my fifteen minute Andrew ficlet is up at the LJ, and so is The More Things Change, a Remus/Sirius pre-OotP PWP.

Eventually, I'll get it all coded and up on the site.

Some days, the caffeine affects me more than others. This is one of those days. I have the shakes. I'm eating lunch now (2:32 pm, pizza, 2 slices) in the hope of ridding myself of them. I hate the shakes.

Whoops!

Got distracted by This: The Fellowship wear funny hatses. Bloody *brilliant*.

Hee!

~victoria



link

[current mood: caffeinated]
[current music: Miss You - Rolling Stones]
[random quote: They'll tell you it's violence. They'll tell you it's sex. And they'll tell you that it's all the]

~*~

10.19.03 - 00:14 a.m.

I'd forget my head if it weren't attached.

I'm really irritated with myself.

I've started writing the "Sirius and Remus investigate a serial killer in between GoF and OotP" fic, and I'm setting up the exposition, trying not to totally info dump at the beginning and intro'ing an OFC who'll only show up at the beginning and the end, and she was saying something to Sirius, and then I got called away to dinner, and five hours later, I still cannot remember what she was supposed to say.

Fuck.

I'm also trying to write Nightswimming fic for Sirius and Remus. I know, I know, it's a trilogy, don't fuck it up, but come on. My boys are *made* for nightswimming. Both the song and the activity.

Though I don't think there will be sex in it. Maybe just cuddling. Or swimming. Or frottage. Okay, that's sex. So I lied. There will probably be sex in it. It's just... considering the timing, I'm still not sure that Sirius or Remus would be, er, up for it.

They're not seventeen years old anymore, you know, and it takes place on the day after a full moon.

And I haven't decided how much contact they'd had between PoA and GoF, though I don't think they're back in a relationship. So it'd be just like first time sex, which you know is my favorite kind to write. Though I'm grooving on this whole reunion business as well.

Speaking of first time sex: The Collar by the Fanwank Avenger. Written for me, and just... guh... I melted. I died from the hotness.

Oh well, back to trying to write.

~victoria



link

[current mood: irritated with myself]
[current music: Dance Away - Roxy Music]
[random quote: You got a lot of good things happening up ahead The past is gone, it's all been said]

~*~

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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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