situation normal, all fucked up. oneko briar had another acronym, a different one...

i only slept six hours last night and i didn't doze off at any time until, oh, like. now. um. and i was online, i know, when wax_jism got on before work, but i didn't notice. how did that happen, i want to know? i wondered if i was having a reverse sleep-debt kind of thing, but it's caught up with me and i'm wilting now, at about the normal time! yay! tomorrow i will take a nap, or go to bed early. ::delicate yawn::

and make some icons, i think.

earlier tonight i was thinking about this great divide i feel between the old me and the me i know now. i'm not on speaking terms with the girl i was growing up. i like her, rather, but she's alien. if we met neither of us would have strong enough inclination, nor guts, to speak to the other, and i'd probably think her interesting and then dismiss the thought entirely, and she'd be intimidated by me in a peculiar way. i was thinking, too, about how painful the, shall i say, watershed? was. i fell over a cliff and lost consciousness and i'm now still in the process of slowly, slowly waking up at the bottom, with shreds of dream fleeing like tattered clouds from me. i'm grimy and sticky and muddy, with shards of the shattered shell of a little girl around me. and the name my parents gave me, the name everyone in RL calls me by, is painted all over the porcelain. >.< i think of myself as 'cim.' (thelionforreal, when i told her this, was extremely surprised.)

surreality finally reaches a kind of watershed too. i feel like quiet music has been building towards a crescendo for a long, long time, and it's not there yet, and for a while it was too faint to make out but now i hear it, but i can't make out the theme. all these horrible coincidences, i mean, and good coincidences too, and life just going on in the midst of them. ordinary things are here--fruit flies on pieces of fruit, and newspapers lying crumpled on the floor, naked barbie dolls underfoot. in the face of so much surreality they're obscenely quotidian. but everything's a cycle, isn't it? and i'm at the horrific nadir where the frenzy of the surreal becomes the horribly commonplace.

i want to go read northrop frye. i want to write or analyze a novel. i've been dreaming for months and i want to wake up.

bookcrossing.com

this book-crossing stuff sounds pretty neat, if i went to coffee-shops.

Sounds easy, right? Well it is. It's also a fascinating exercise in fate, karma, or whatever you want to call the chain of events that can occur between two or more lives and one piece of literature.

and then--so many things are that.

(no subject)

people were supposed to come install cable day before yesterday. didn't come. and not only that, i'd forgotten completely and there was like. no knock at the door and no doorbell and basically just nothing. um. right-o. pissed about that.

things come and go on my mental radar, posts on friendsfriends and other things i've been reading, slow day at fandom_wank, well-intentioned idiots and the intelligent who have no good intentions whatsoever--agents of evil in the way that does not turn me on, and for which no excuses can be made. right. life's surreal, want to wake up.

am feeling very crotchety and irritable and irritated--each new little thing that comes up, i want to stomp on a bug, or maybe burst into tears. time of month, maybe?

la verdad es que también lloro una vez al mez sobre todo cuando hay frío

dominatemeplz, here's the other woodcest i mentioned.

my sweet baby

wax_jism: and if Jack could walk on water, Elizabeth wouldn't have had to do that thing with the smoke.
cimness: AHAHAHAHAH
cimness: ::images of jesus!jack on a pogo stick with dreads bouncing, holding elizabeth over one shoulder::

fruity girly alcoholic drinks

is there any sort of mixed drink that's made with lemonade?

whoa. sortarec.

The natural sensuality of Jack, unleashed, revealed, as Will had always suspected and hungered for. Will stammered, "You're beautiful."

His heart tripped in his chest as a look of startled doubt arose in Jack's face. "Nay, lad. You are, though. Like this." -this piece of glorious trash.

my friends say you're so brave

mmmmmmmmh, johnny depp.

edit: "Will is not a pansy." She responded, seriously considering throwing his arm off her shoulder.

"Yes he is. You know what I ‘ad to listen to for the first coup’la days I was stuck with him? ‘My father’s was not a pirate! Pirates are smelly! My bloodline is above all of that! Oh my, are we going to steal that ship, Jack? But that’s morally reprehensible!’ Like I said. Pansy." -here