slashy dream.

i don't completely remember my dream, but there were these two rival african type tribes in a desert and i was just a narrator. one of the tribes used tons of that body art--you know, where they make scars on themselves and embed stuff in their skin. the other didn't. and there was a slashy relationship, and one of the guys said, "it is aesthetic--for appearance. you would not understand." and the other said "let me tell you a secret." and turned over his arm and there was this elaborate worked metal sphere sticking out of his wrist, which i (being the narrator) understood to be the hilt of a knife. he wasn't bleeding, and it didn't hurt. it had been put there by his mother when he was a baby.

the narrator sentence (mine) was something like: there she had placed it, staking her primary claim on him as Mother, long ago, and it was not to be removed until his blood flowed on the sand and she took it herself to claim the lives of his murderers.

whoa! to wake up then!

...despite all appearances, though, it was not a nightmare; it seemed sort of cool at the time, counting the slashy relationship, of course.

how lame is it to get a paid account JUST for the icons? in other news, this is my "dead" icon. i love ophelia. can i go to london, please, and see this painting?

bwahahaha

You're that evil little piece of jewelry that corrupts almost
everything it touches and recites poetry in the
Black Tongue on its days off. Cool.
Advice: You'd have been better off with Gollum.

natural beauty

weather update. haven't seen a day this gorgeous since sunday. the sky looks white but when you stare it's really blue, so bright it glares between the bare black arms of the trees and blurs their outlines. the breeze makes leaves dance, clinging to the branches. there's not a trace of snow, just broad flat expanses of lawn that were brown yesterday, but today they're glowing green. just the right amount of breeze, too, to swirl your sweater around your knees when you walk out and blow your hair back away from your face--and you're wearing a long sweater, because it's far, far too hot for a coat. there are lovers leaning against the trees on the quad, no matter how muddy the ground, and there are boys with the sleeves of their shirts cut off playing frisbee. you can't look at the cars in the circular drives for the sun shining off them, and all the columns on the front of the snobby buildings have long slender lines of highlight on them, and the shadows make little pools on the stairs, and the flagstones are still wet from rain and melted snow. the squirrels, fortunately, are little in evidence. i hate the squirrels.

bouncy. er. disjointed. paynoattentiontome! *vibrates off to make a mess*

naked editor update: you guessed it--shirt and pants. ugh, someone needs to have a talk with this boy. he's not named "naked editor" for nothing... i hope.

threesome update: have you ever read the starfarers novels by vonda n mcintyre? they're science fiction by a master of the field (responsible for 3 or 4 of the six original trek movie novelizations, and winner of the highest awards in sf and f). set in the future and on a space ship, and not exclusively about any one story, but 3/4 central characters are in a threesome that used to be a foursome before one of the women died in a motorcycle accident. then there's a side romance with one of the men and another man, who gets assassinated before he can be welcomed into their group. --anyway! yes! v. good. a bit mature, rather straightforward stylistically except for pov-switching, most of the awesomeness lies in the sheer speculative power. it's incredibly imaginative and, as mike resnick said, "very human." --i mention this because while i've never had a problem with the starfarer books before, it wasn't until wax's void that i could in any other context really wrap my mind around the concept of a threesome. hm.

temperature update. as soon as it warms up outside, they turn the heat back down to 70 in the museum, the first day i wear a shirt that exposes part of my stomach. wtf?

greek update. professor rocks enough to make up for the uncoolness. her dog is almost as cute as mine. missed great opportunity to garner bonus points by having cat named "orpheus" and dog named "pericles" by forgetting to tell her this.

slash essay?, the precious bartending partner.

one of the paper topics for my class on the gothic novel is as follows. at the beginning of the italian, vivaldi is accompanied and counseled bya friend named bonarmo, who then disappears and is replaced by vivaldi's new sidekick, paulo. thinking about bonarmo's perplexing disappearance, the relationship between vivaldi and paulo, and the ruined friendship between father nicola and schedoni, write an essay about male frienship (its benefits and hazards?) in the italian. okay. so. obviously, i could go slashy places with this essay, and the professor is both a novelist and a lesbian. should i seize the opportunity and do that? i'm not talking about totally making this up, because i think there's a lot of emotional tension between the latter pair, who are both old and monks and villians. the text gives essentially no clue about bonarmo/paulo, but i suppose... if you think about radcliffe's probable motivation, the servant is less of a threat because he doesn't think as much for himself; he's obliged to follow orders. he's devoted too. then he provides comic relief, and it's better to make fun of a servant from the 19th century pov. the threat could be sexualized, though, right? by making him a servant, you remove any inappropriate element in the male closeness, whereas with bonarmo, an equal equally empowered to make decisions, equally intelligent...

hm. so should i do that? there are other topics that'd be rather easier, i think. i might be more enthusiastic and thus articulate about slashiness, but if she doesn't buy my premise... .

...in other news, my roommate's partner from bartending school called with his cute little brooklyn accent. after id'ing himself as david said, "from bartending."

me: oh yes. we all know who david is.
him: you do?
me: yes! you're precious.
him: precious?
me: it's lisa's highest compliment.
him: it is?
me: i'm surprised you don't know this. precious is really good. and you're precious.
him: really? wow. i believe you, it's just. uh. thanks. you just... made my day.

oh with the cuteness! squee!

moving right along, intended to do phonetics exercises. gak. and start writing gothic novel paper. gik. ew. have im'd for approx. 3 hrs. instead. i suck.

but! i did get much walking and talking and shit done today, including ingratiating myself with the greek prof. and talking about dogs and petting her dog. who is unbelievably precious. "my dog is 5 too," i said, "and he's the cutest dog in the world, with the possible exception of your dog." she laughed and said, "thank you, that was very diplomatic of you."

heh.