the latest purported sender of spam:

earnest quivoz. ::blinkblink:: well, at least he's earnest.

playing with animation shop. produced one with three frames, of tatu. a kiss, poorly-lit. am quite fond of it despite overall low quality, although i doubt i [or anyone else] will want to use it. however, i'm going to make some more icons tomorrow, or whenever, and...

well, who knows where i was going with that? at any rate.

i watched 3 hours of trading spaces tonight and washed my hair. which seemed to have taken nearly as long. >.

lord malquist and mr moon

oh, also. a bit of web search earlier today revealed the name of that beautifully surreal novel of tom stoppard's (he of rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead): lord malquist and mr moon. it's quite definitely out of print, however, and i don't think i can get a copy for less than about $10, which i haven't got to spare at any time in the near future, so i shan't be buying it.

in other news: hollsk is not a slut; steve is back, back, back; and the word 'wee' is even cuter than the word 'bitch' is satisfyingly versatile.

the final bit of spam:

i'm starting to feel bitchy. that time of the night? perhaps.

(no subject)

my parents can be very scary. in nightmares, anyway. well, actually, in real life too. there was a place sort of like a zoo, or a botanical garden, with a big building in which my dad and i were lost. and we were hiding in this closet type place which belonged to a high school biology teacher (not one of mine) whom we met on the way. and then my mom was forcing me to go to a party for church held at the apartment of someone's uncle, on the river, with ceilings that were only about five feet high, and i kept trying to escape and she was angry. well, i didn't say it made sense.

yesterday--or the day before? unnnh--i removed the comma key from my lovely little laptop and picked bits of dust out from under it and put it back in, but now sometimes when i press it it doesn't work. grrrrrrrr.

(no subject)

i'm having the urge to wear fuck-me boots with a miniskirt to church. the problem is that to do that i think i would have to shave again this morning. and possibly wear hose. neither of which is much fun. i already packed my lovely silk skirt, but it's near the top, so maybe i'll just get it out again? it's the ingathering this week--which is to say the end of the summer, everyone's back home ceremony--so rather inappropriate that i go. but it's a potluck and we've got a new settled minister and it's his first sermon. my mom was on the ministerial search committee, so i have promised to go.

just a very very few days, which i try not to think about more than every couple of hours to avoid too much panicked mind-blankness. well, panic is not precisely the word, but it makes the random surrealism generator look pedestrian.

something's wrong with my computer, i fear.

where, oh, where is my baby. ::sniffle::

(no subject)

the van doesn't have all its seats, so i'm driving to church. wheeeeeeeeeee! my own music! no mom and dad! no banality! ... yeah, this is entirely too exciting, perhaps. but shut up, okay?

tatu icons, including one animated! o.O

i'm happy to customize them for people. names, snappy little phrases, whatever. there's nothing i like better than wasting time by making icons. well, there is, but... yeah.


( Read more... )

because i rock like that,

i made a livejournal trading card and it is ( here )

even if my cohorts have all vanished in my absence and it's t-minus-n-days. however many that is. there's some justifiable confusion.

hollsk, come baaaaaaaaaack.

what, oh, what

has the world come to when i'm checking my college associated email account? [there's nothing.] [hotmail account: the last chapter of waxlet's story, already read, 'hans, live your life debt free' two fwds, 'penis enlargement'.] [and as i wait for it to load i tap my fingers on the keyboard and nearly burst a blood vessel in my temple. sudden burst of irrational impatience. just WHOA.]

i mean, some serious shit has to be wrong for that.

i ate most of a plate of fried rice for dinner and got to that point where you're still hungry but you can't eat any more. and i LOVE peanut butter icecream but have a sneaking suspicion that it upsets my stomach. i feel kind of bleh and think i need to be cuddled. perhaps i can talk a family member into watching a movie and snuggling on the couch. ::sigh::

frailty thy name is--

--cim. maybe more shakespearean insults could cheer me up. previous installments [i] and [ii].

let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house. he is in heaven. send thither to see. if your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th'other place yourself. you tread upon my patience. how now, wool-sack, what mutter you? were't not for laughing i should pity him.

( hamlet and henry iv, part 1 )

andrew and jonathan (not the evil ones)

it may have not been clear for all of july that the owners of slate and the house with plumbing shit wrong with it--bev and dave--are also the owners of the two cutest children in the universe: andrew (8) and jonathan (6), adopted from korea. horrible bad little boys who fight and wrestle and lick me and. my god. they're SOCUTE. they make me want children.

they also owned the monty python dvd's, of which we'd kept 4, so today at church dave said, 'where are my dvd's? you stole them.' and teased me extensively, over all my protests that it was my dad's fault.

(me: i'm just letting you know it's your fault that we don't have dave's dvd's.
dad: no. it's yours.
me: yours, and that's what i told dave.
dad: well, i thought maybe you were forgetting them on purpose to punish them for not paying you enough.
me: ahahaha.
dad: put it this way... it occured to me.)

around five i tore myself from the computer, trusting (unwisely) that my darling would go to bed in my absence, and went over there. returned the dvd's and chatted with bev. eventually migrated over to play slapjack with andrew, the CUTEST boy ever except jonathan. my god, he's so adorable it's scary. he plays havoc with my hormones. he's had me wrapped around his little fingers since they first adopted him and he was, hm, one or less? and i was in sixth grade or something. and i spent years courting him--he was a very clingy baby--being nice but not pushy, and now i'm his favorite babysitter. and it was SO worth it.

jonathan got home and came straight to me for a hug. andrew jumped on my back while bev showed me their photo album from korea; we wrestled a little, then all three of us, and i hugged them goodbye, and left.

next week. i'm leaving thursday. middle of tne night.

it rained today and when i was driving home a flock of birds flew over the road like a veil lifting across the face of the sky.

i love the shape of a candle flame burning in a chalice.

lady ice [poem by eric kimball, which i have on the wall on a lovely poster]

if time is a circle, then in the circling of time
i came to the highway in a midnight of rain,
another soldier of confusion in a murderous clime,
another prisoner of misfortune with no word to explain.

so i made for the border and i watched for a light,
and i was thinking iw as lost when i first heard her voice,
so when she asked me to trust her i thought that i might,
though i knew from the beginning that i really had no choice.

and she said that she could tell i was a desperate man,
but she pleaded she was caught in some bad situations,
and she said that every one of us must do what he can,
and if i did my best for her, she'd return the obligation.

at the edge of the hurricane, only hunger makes sense,
and though i knew i really shouldn't, still i rode where she called,
i surrendered my suspicions to the brittling winds
and the next thing i knew, i knew nothing at all.

she is the lady of diamonds, she is the lady of ice,
mysterious enchantress, the madonna of sorrows,
and when she calls you to find her you cannot think twice
for what she says once will mean nothing tomorrow.

so i came to a tower all of glittering white,
and when i saw her in her window i prayed for control,
her hysterical radiance unravelled my sight
as the fingertips of her beauty touched ice to my soul.

and i stood before her silence like a thief caught in flight,
there was thunder in the road, all the hillsides were shaken,
i said "lady you have called me, i have travelled all night",
and she smiled as she replied "i believe you are mistaken".

and i stood beneath her window like a scarecrow in rags,
with my heart in my hands, with the rain in my eyes,
and when i asked her for mercy she cursed me and laughed,
and her laughter was diamonds and her voice was like ice.

and i stood within her shadow like an angel in chains,
there was a wicked storm coming, i was more dead than alive,
and as i turned to find the highway i asked her for a word,
and as she barred up her window she whispered "survive".

now there's a cold wind blowing and it cuts me like a knife
as i remember her face and i call back those hours,
and i count the man lucky who escapes with his life
from the casual cruelties of ladies in towers.

she is the lady of diamonds, glad lady of lies,
proud mistress of ruins with a conjuror's heart,
and if she calls you to dance you had better think twice,
for in intricate pieces she will tear you apart.

but if time is a circle, then in a circling of time
i expect that that woman is going to call me again,
and as i listen for her voice, still i'm wishing she'd find
some other highway in the midnight,
some other desolation soldier
for her hollow crucifixions,
another rider in the rain.