In which our intrepid protagonist talks about animals and writing and very little else.

Today started pretty awfully. Slept until almost 3pm (because I hadn't gone to bed until almost 7am. Sleep schedule is ruined at the moment), woke up cold and tired and grumpy. One of my triops had mortally wounded another one, too, so I'm down to two three-eyed mutant space-crustaceans now. When I let my puppy out, she attacked one of the young chickens and got her cornered into a tight little space under the house. Bruised/scraped my arm all to hell rescuing the stupid bird while the dog kept trying to pull out her feathers. When the puppy is intent on something--like chasing animals--she completely stops listening to commands, including "No." Frustrating enough that we're talking about muzzling her while she's outside just so she can't bite things. She'll probably still chase them and get them stuck, though... I don't know. Later, I felt exhausted and almost had a panic attack just because I utterly couldn't concentrate. I probably need to be on ADD meds again, but that means going to the doctor, which means making an appointment and finding some way to get to it and... nng. I just need a car. Or a motorcycle! But the motorcycle got given away and the two cars sitting out there don't run. We just have non-running cars parked in front of the shed like proper rednecks.

Things got a little better in the evening, pretty much after I had my first dose of caffeine for the day.  Got the Dreamwidth account and screwed around with it, rp'ed the Magnificent Bastard a little bit and drank more tea.

I'm really behind in my writing. I've been working through some writing excercises from a book, but skipped doing it yesterday and I still haven't done it today, either, even though it's nearing 3am. I have a novelette (Chosen Duties) likely sitting in the slush pile at Asimov's at the moment, so that's good, but my other "completed" story (Sanctuary, which is kinda... uh... post-apocalyptic romance) is still in draft stage. There's plot problems that I'm not sure how to fix and while other people really like the concept, I'm still not that fond. If anyone out there wants to give it a readthrough and see if you notice anything that others have missed, let me know.  I always appreciate critique.

I have a couple more stories on the drawing board. One is taking a lot of research which I'm slowly but surely getting through, the other just stems from a character (Simon) that really grabbed me. I just need to sit down and write. And not get distracted by shiny things or frustrated by... frustrating things.

Feeling physically  a bit better today, though, aside from fatigue. Maybe whatever's wrong with me is going away again?

N.G.S.

Going to be a 12-year-old fangirl and post song lyrics now, because I just looked up the lyrics to an Asian Kung-Fu Generation song I liked a lot. Like it even more now.　I probably won't do this that often, but it's 5am and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Sleeping now (after I write).

また途絶えた記憶
辿り着けば無常
それは感情論のSOS
現在、回答先延ばし

君の声がして
響きあえば無情
それが感情論のSOS
存在、回答先延ばし

つまりそうだよ
続く曖昧、劣等、感情論
往々にして繋ぐ緩衝剤、妄想インターネット

仮想現実を

つまりそうだよ
続く現状、感傷、感情論
往々にして繋ぐ緩衝剤、妄想インターネット

仮想現実を
仮想現実
妄想
回答先延ばし


( Rough English translation under the cut... )

Wolfram Alpha WINS.

Ask it the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow...

This was pretty much just an excuse to see how this icon looks with my layout, since edgeraven has me worrying about aesthetics now, damn him.  ;)


It still totally sounds like the kind of thing that, if we were living in science fiction, would develop sentience and take over the world. It even has a cool name.

Brian's Wish

Figured I could probably post some drabbles here, since I'm probably never going to try and publish them. This one's been posted online a couple times, so couldn't give anyone first rights, anyway. Still my favorite, though. Sometimes I think I should expand it into a full-fledged short story, but my first attempt failed when I realized it meant I'd have to research really depressing topics like child oncology and Oprah.

...

“Dying Boy, Eight, Seeks Prayer Answered.”

All the networks covered it: his inoperable brain tumor, his unspoken wish. Debated, it lingered on lips, filling stadiums with candles and Brian's name.

Last night, the angel came down, unexpectedly glorious. Dozens claimed the first photo of its unnatural symmetry, were brushed away till only we staff remained. It happened quickly, hushed, but still we heard.

“What did he ask for?” My girlfriend asked as I stepped out, shaken.

“He said.... he didn't want to die alone.”

The bombs took bloom like hospital roses, the night sky shattered by the threat of wings.

Art!

So while I was procrastinating and not writing, I drew (well, digitally painted) the weirdest thing I've ever drawn. Ever. This from the guy who draws cyberpunk centaurs,  vegetable-octopus hybrids, and chibi cyborgs cuddling spines.

( Image under the cut... )

I made it into a wallpaper, too, if anyone's interested. Similar but not identical background.