Aug. 1st, 2010
song meme pt 2
Aug. 1st, 2010 04:41 pmDay 26. A song that you can play on an instrument: Love Me Tender - Elvis Presley
No one needs a video of this.
Day 27. A song that you wish you could play: Ecstasy - Crooked Still
Day 28. A song that makes you feel guilty: Cousins - Vampire Weekend.
Smells like TERRIBLE WHITE FRAT BOY PRIVILEGE, and yet I like bopping around to it. imma part of the problem yay.
No one needs a video of this.
Day 27. A song that you wish you could play: Ecstasy - Crooked Still
Day 28. A song that makes you feel guilty: Cousins - Vampire Weekend.
Smells like TERRIBLE WHITE FRAT BOY PRIVILEGE, and yet I like bopping around to it. imma part of the problem yay.
Chatty for sure
Aug. 1st, 2010 07:06 pmReading for July.
A Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin. Book 3 in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. Holy cats, guys. So good. I had been spoiled for two out of the four major happenings of this book (Thanks internet -___-) and I totally didn't see them coming until the second they were happening. Martin is so good at misdirecting; you totally buy action 1 at facevalue, then KABANG, something else wretched and horrific was going down RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.
Pioneer Women by Linda Peavy and Ursula Smith. Non-fiction about women pioneers. For the most part pretty good; I liked the discussion on the isolation of women on homesteads, and the celebration of their accomplishments. Too bad most of the accomplishments were based on the male sense of accomplishment, pretty much doing guys stuff either in drag or bloomers. Like keeping 6 kids and a husband and various farm animals feed, clean and clothed and alive in a dirt hovel in January without any fucking help isn't a worthy acheivement.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Ugh. White girl solves all the problems for the black help in 1960's Mississippi. Did you know leaving the husband who beats you is as simple as going to stay with your sister? People who are fat and don't wear short skirts are obviously evil. Lots of !fail without seeing it, so much that I don't even want to get into it.
***
Writing.
Yesterday, I woke up with a headache and I was laying there half-way awake, thinking about a story in early draft (I try to use that open brain time for creative purposes), and I don't know if it was the headache or what, but in the middle of it, I snapped into total awakeness and thought "Who cares?"
So I took it as a sign of a failed project. Which, I mostly was fine with. I'd been picking away on the idea for the past couple of months and each sentence in it was the result of a weeklong dramafest, and ugh, I was tired of fighting with the damn thing every word of the way.
Then yesterday afternoon, I'm fooling around the house, and a line of dialogue just pops into my head. It's a pivotal line, storywise. It gave the whole abandoned lump a nice sturdy spine. And I was like damn, why couldn't this have came when I cared. But, I opened the .doc for the story to throw it in there, just so I'd have it if I ever wanted to fool around with the story again, and while I was in there, I realized I had a major run of dialogue written-- IDK, upside down? Backwards? assbackwards, IDK. Out of order in any sense. So I moved it back to front, and the front to the back and it's like 343759745x stronger, hipper, meaner. Again, why couldn't this have happened when I cared.
Now I'm waffling on my okay-fine stance. I have other projects I can wander into to, but now this one feels like maybe it has a chance again. Yet, I'm sick of it. I'm mad at it. And I feel like the litle run of writing I got on it was its way of jerking me over one last time. Ugh.
A Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin. Book 3 in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. Holy cats, guys. So good. I had been spoiled for two out of the four major happenings of this book (Thanks internet -___-) and I totally didn't see them coming until the second they were happening. Martin is so good at misdirecting; you totally buy action 1 at facevalue, then KABANG, something else wretched and horrific was going down RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.
Pioneer Women by Linda Peavy and Ursula Smith. Non-fiction about women pioneers. For the most part pretty good; I liked the discussion on the isolation of women on homesteads, and the celebration of their accomplishments. Too bad most of the accomplishments were based on the male sense of accomplishment, pretty much doing guys stuff either in drag or bloomers. Like keeping 6 kids and a husband and various farm animals feed, clean and clothed and alive in a dirt hovel in January without any fucking help isn't a worthy acheivement.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Ugh. White girl solves all the problems for the black help in 1960's Mississippi. Did you know leaving the husband who beats you is as simple as going to stay with your sister? People who are fat and don't wear short skirts are obviously evil. Lots of !fail without seeing it, so much that I don't even want to get into it.
***
Writing.
Yesterday, I woke up with a headache and I was laying there half-way awake, thinking about a story in early draft (I try to use that open brain time for creative purposes), and I don't know if it was the headache or what, but in the middle of it, I snapped into total awakeness and thought "Who cares?"
So I took it as a sign of a failed project. Which, I mostly was fine with. I'd been picking away on the idea for the past couple of months and each sentence in it was the result of a weeklong dramafest, and ugh, I was tired of fighting with the damn thing every word of the way.
Then yesterday afternoon, I'm fooling around the house, and a line of dialogue just pops into my head. It's a pivotal line, storywise. It gave the whole abandoned lump a nice sturdy spine. And I was like damn, why couldn't this have came when I cared. But, I opened the .doc for the story to throw it in there, just so I'd have it if I ever wanted to fool around with the story again, and while I was in there, I realized I had a major run of dialogue written-- IDK, upside down? Backwards? assbackwards, IDK. Out of order in any sense. So I moved it back to front, and the front to the back and it's like 343759745x stronger, hipper, meaner. Again, why couldn't this have happened when I cared.
Now I'm waffling on my okay-fine stance. I have other projects I can wander into to, but now this one feels like maybe it has a chance again. Yet, I'm sick of it. I'm mad at it. And I feel like the litle run of writing I got on it was its way of jerking me over one last time. Ugh.