the brothers upwright probably didn't believe in angels. but they believed in b.s., and were the type to admire it when it was delivered with panache

I'm reading Going Postal again, and I have to say, it's thoroughly enjoyable the second time around, too. I'm catching all the little intertwined minor threads that I missed the first time, which is a good feeling.

Why is it that practically every adult I know thinks I need to be lectured about dating? Today one of our regular customers decided he should preach to me about the possible evils of dating and expound on the wonderful example of his niece who's just hangin' on to her faith tight and trying to be a better person and has determined not to date until she's 25. I mean, he's cute in his pride and all, but it was a long lecture, and I got bored. Especially since I've made it clear that, thank you all the same, I'm not dating anyone right now, and no, I'm not interested. And they repeat themselves! I like to think that after hearing a thing two or three times I remember it. Grar. This is me thinking I know everything because I'm a semi-educated young adult. = )

And also, the people I work with keep asking me how old I am as if the answer is going to change. No, for the fifth time, I'm not 21. I'm 19. Yes, actually, I'm still 19, just like yesterday. Thanks for asking.

My family, all four of them, are leaving next Wednesday. That means I'm all by myself, really all by myself, for five days. I have to remember to feed the dog and the cats and cook and lock the door... and I'm going to be by myself. At night. I'm going to have to turn all the lights off. The prospect of this, I think, is what's making me want to complain at lot right now. So, because I'm a weak human being, I'm going to complain a lot. Like maybe being whiny will make me not afraid of the dark? Anyway, I'm going to have to get over it, because there will come a day when I'm out of college and won't have a roommate and I'll have to cope with going to sleep all by myself (since, as I made clear earlier in this post, I'm not dating anyone nor do I intend to and that includes me not looking for a husband! Thank you! No, it's not really that odd, remember that dude named Paul? Founding father of the church? Singleness is just as much a gift as marriage, and you won't be as conflicted? Thanks for stoppin' by, have a good evenin'!).

Also, my computer's broke. Grar.

But I do love Terry Pratchett and he makes me in a better mood. So yay. Be excellent to each others (and when you're old, don't lecture strangers about dating, OK?).

electro-spazz post-hardcore music

I'm spending some time re-reading through the archives of my favorite comics. I guess because I ran out of Terry Pratchett books and don't feel like reading anything that's actually good for me. Like, you know, T. S. Eliot or essays or something. A gal's got to draw the line somewhere, and it's summer, so I draw the line at actually learning more than ten facts a week.

I think "Shells and Cheddar" would be a great exclamation.

"Shells and Cheddar! That dude stole my car!"

"Shells and Cheddar! That test was hard!"

Doesn't it have a ring?

I started trying to read Neuromancer today, but I sorta gave up on it. I mean, it's an amazing invention considering that the dude didn't even own a computer (and I don't think he'd even used one) at that point, but it's silly. I couldn't really find motivation for any of it to be happening. You know? Why did they need Case? Nobody knows. Why Molly? Nobody knows that either. Why was Case so obsessed with Linda Lee? I mean, if it was just sex then he should've got over it quick, because he was sleeping with Molly before you could say "shells and cheddar." Maybe he just fixated on her as a result of witnessing her gruesome death. In which case I feel like he wouldn't have slept with her in his hallucination. Anyway, I just feel like everything was sorta frayed around the edges. Maybe it was intentional, because it was all avant-guarde or something. Who knows. The eighties were a weird decade. And sci-fi can be a super-weird genre. So eighties sci-fi? Weird Beyond All Reason.

Writing is going kind of crappy now. I just don't got every piece fitted into place yet. I think I found the last corner piece, and I've sorted the pieces all out into piles based on color-similarity, but I'm definitely missing some. Or maybe I just need to change the shape of the pieces I already have. Anyway, it's moving forward at a snail's pace. Today, though, I feel like it will evcentually work itself out. It's just going to take me a few years, you know? My goal is to have the rough draft all written out by the end of the summer. If I can do that, then I can pick it up and start rewriting it next summer, maybe. If I don't get everything down, though, I'm afraid I'll be lost when I go to finish it. So, that's the plan, loves! And now I'm going to go eat lunch.

So... if I work at a coffee shop, does that make me a barrista? That would so be the coolest job title I've ever had.

A private eye (supposedly) stopped by the coffee shop the other day. Basically she told me not to call the cops on her for hanging around because she used to be one and it would not go well with me. I tried not to laugh. It was fun to think of noire sentences relating to the coffee shop and stakeouts. Unfortunately no one was around to bandy these extremely witty constructions around with. See, this is why we need colleges.

Buh-bye loves. Stay sober (as one particularly weird customer said to me last week).

P. S. I have newly decided that "bathos" is my most favoritest word evar. As of right this very second (9:27 p.m. on June 26, 2006).

and the day was a great big fish

I read a book by Terry Pratchet yesterday (unfortunately the only one the hartselle library has) and I have to say that he's totally amazing. He's going on my list of favorite all-time authors. Monstrous Regiment is the one that I read, and it's hysterical. He's so good that I didn't have to think about craft at all, the whole time I was reading it (and lately, my inner critic just won't shut up). So. Everyone, go read Terry Pratchett! Now! = D

Also, it's fathers day! Woot!

poetry doth soothe the savage beast?

...or not, y'know, whichever fits in better for the cosmic powers that be.

I'm not sure if my sleeping schedule is getting messed up because I'm so grumpy, or if I feel grumpy because my sleeping schedule is messed up. And what to do in either case.

And yes, I'm blogging mostly to complain, because I know my family's tired of hearing about my frustrations and mood swings, and oh wait, they're the only ones I see in the summer. Now, I love my family, but right now I have no social life, and I'm horribly, tragically bored.

I'm thinking of dying my hair blue or something. Or maybe that would get me fired. Maybe I could dye just a little bit of it. In, y'know, a fun accent color? (the season's greatest flavors, now in hair dye! Hey, it's no dumber than 10 ways you can help prevent the end of the world)

The X-files is kind of eerily fascinating. I keep wondering if there's a meta-plot, and if it ever reached resolution, or if the show got cancelled before it could. Anybody know?

'K loves. I guess that's all. I miss everybody.

So, maybe I was overreacting about the whole creativity thing. I mean, hecks yeah, it's hard to make a living at creative things, but lots of people do anyway, right? It just takes pig-headedness enough?

The dragon lady is now apparently fueled by pixie-power. I'm not sure I like it. And the evil cats might be shape-shifting-type-things? Strike anybody else as a literary cliche?

Also, I figured out a way to fix the narrative problem for one of my poems, but stylistically I don't think I like the solution. Which leaves me with a weird hybrid of problems. Yes, I'm complaining.

And no, apparently my crazy moodiness does not stop when the stress stops (there goes my excuse). I just have breakdowns less often. Which, you know, I guess I'm in favor of. But I don't really want the moodiness to keep going forever.

Grar. Me = grumpy with all creativity. I've decided I'm going to chuck it and become an accountant. Yes, thank you, I remember that I mis-added my own SAT scores, and that I hate numbers, but you can earn a living as an accountant. So there.

10 ways the world could end! 10 ways you can prevent it!

Is it just me, or is that the dumbest preview you've ever heard? Courtesy of the sci-fi channel. It's like the end of the world is equated with decaying teeth or something. Plaque is something I can handle with simple tips from the TV. Somehow the end of the world seems a little different.

Not much happening. I'm just updating for no good reason, really. Celebrating the fact that my words aren't dried up, that I'm finding the narrative stream pretty easily. That definitely doesn't mean that what I'm dredging up is any good at all - in fact I'm pretty sure it's not, and I flatter myself that I have good artistic judgment - I'm just excited that it's happening, you know? That even when I psyche myself out, the words are still there, waiting.

If only I could stop psyching myself out. = )

P. S. The dragon lady is actually turning out to be quite clever - now if only I could figure out how old she is, and what her personality is like. She's vague and then suddenly brilliant. Are there actually people like that?

"good news, sam! you've been accepted for admittance into my unholy army of the night!"

Yes, a quote from another online comic. But you know, they're just so amazing.

I'm taking this weekend off. Seriously off. No reading, no writing, no working, no nothing that I don't actually feel like I would enjoy. Supposedly this is going to help me be less cerebral and cure my writer's block. Even if it doesn't, though, I'll have had one heck of a relaxing weekend.

Cheerio, loves!

"i believe in the sentence"

"And today, thousands more evacuees as the most active volcano on earth spews more gas and lava. Why are they worried? We'll explain when we come back." [emphasis not mine]

This is why I hate Fox News (and also, I confess, why I watch it. These stupidity moments are sometimes hysterical). It staffs irritating news anchors who ask stupid questions, make stupid statements, are angry, argue with their interview-ees, and don't even bother thinking of seeking objectivity. Of course, they're not the only network. They're just the one that's on every evening at our house, so I get to see all the stupidity. The 'explanation', by the way, of why people were worried about the active volcano spewing gas and lava right above their homes took less time than the preview of the story did.

Ooh! And I saw a book today at the library that was all about Chuck Norris and Zen. I have to say, if there is one person on this earth who seems un-zen-like, it's Chuck Norris. Although he does apparently have supernatural sheriff-powers and absurd good luck.

There's also apparently a magazine called "Cleaning Business." And yes, they only publish things 'of interest' to those in the cleaning and maintenance professions. As a janitor, I'd have to say that there's not a lot there to talk about.

My favorite magazine name so far? The Comfusion Review. The Brobdingnagian Review is a close second.

Do you know who has published in more literary magazines than anyone else on the face of the earth? Virgil Suarez. I swear, he's in almost every one of the listings in this poetry market book I checked out from the library.

T. S. Eliot is both seductive and repulsive. His rhythm always just escapes predicatbility, pattern, the language is always on the edge of form, always on the edge of unmarred beauty. His image sequences are perpetually on the verge of making sense. I find that a little bit of Eliot goes a long way. It's all very well for the absurdly well-educated individual, who can decipher all the french and latin and obscure literary quotations. But for me it's like trying to put together an Anne Geddes puzzle with all the pieces of the baby are missing. I think I might skip through him and go straight to Pound. I mean, he's supposed to be more imagistic, right, so maybe more accessible and less cerebral?

My favorite quotes of the day (sorry this post is turning out so long):

"and you do get, if you're not careful, the illusion that you are a competent person."

happiness is a kind of ripply road

"When you're receiving the Nobel Prize, you can say things like that out loud."

- Doris Betts

the horsemen are sleeping, / the warriors underground; what was is no more

Today the dragon lady found a body. I'm as surprised as you are. But it's going to be a cool scene. Very cinematic. = ) I better stop talking before I give away the whole plot (that is, the only plot that I know so far). I just get really excited when I sit down to write and things actually happen.

Also, I finished Beowulf today. The second time I've read it. And I found myself loving it. They (the norse heroes) hold things so loosely. There is no grasping onto. They give away gold like water, view death nonchalantly (although they view it as oblivion and not the gate to another life), and seek only glory, making formal boasts and treating these boasts, their word, as worth more than their lives. And when Beowulf goes "under the crag / no coward's path," although "it was no easy thing / to have to give ground like that and go / unwillingly to inhabit another home / in a place beyond; so every man must yield / the leasehold of his days" I got a little choked up.

Alright, loves. Did I tell you Forte caught a mouse yesterday? He came into our living room, proud as punch, with a mouse in his mouth. So apparently we have mice in the house, but we also apparently have good mousers in the family.

P. S. This comic is hysterical.

Mwahahaha....