Where to begin . . .

There's too much.

Suffice to say, Rasputina was a great show, but I got my car towed in the meantime, and I now owe Trisa around a hundred bucks. We wandered around, frightened that my car'd been stolen before we finally figured out that we'd parked in some silly private parking area that only welcomed giggling young men who ineffectiually kicked at each other (it's true, I saw them).

Paradoxically, I do feel a lot more comfortable driving around L.A. now. Or at least that part of town, which I believe is actually Hollywood. I knew we'd be better off if I didn't bring any directions. Yahoo! maps gave a frilly, over-complicated route when all we needed to do was take 5 to 10 to La Cienega to Santa Monica. And done. No tricky intersections, no nonsense. Well, except that there wasn't apparently any good parking.

Yesterday also marked the first occasion where I sent a short story to a magazine (Azimovs). I confidently expect a rejection, but at least I'm not afraid of the mailbox anymore.

I'm broke 'cause I gave all my money to Trisa who, poor thing, had to be at class at 7am--just two hours after we arrived back in San Diego. She had a big test thing and I wish her luck. And sleep.

"I doused a friendly venture with a hard-faced, three word gesture." -Morrissey

Aeryn: You are Aeryn Sun. Some might call you cold,
or even tight-assed, but it's okay, 'cause you
can take 'em! Cool, calm, and collected you
work well under pressure and aren't afraid to
take on the boys.


Who the FRELL are you? A Farscape Personality Quiz.
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Your ultimate Farscape sex toy is Chiana. Have a
frelling fantastic time!


Who's your ideal Farscape sex toy?
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So to-morrow Trisa and I go to L.A.

I must admit, I'm rather nervous, especially after reading this.

Looks like we'll be arriving at night again. All we need is a rainstorm and visibility shall be as bad as last year . . . Oh, I do wish we could arrange to arrive during daylight, but apparently that's out of the question. Driving in L.A. is, for me, in case I have yet to make this clear, kind of intimidating. And certainly nerve-wracking. And it just has to be at night, doesn't it?

sigh.

Well, blog, I hope we see each other again . . . To-morrow's not Sunday, after all.

Eh . . . To-day, I will get an oil change . . . for my car.

I'm surrounded by fascists. Go 'way fascists! I really think I am surrounded by them.

Reason takes a back seat to "feelings" these days. It's cloying and it gives me stomach ache.

Woke up with a bad stomach ache this morning. And a headache. I dreamt I was part of a team of teen vampire hunters. We were all drving about in old Buick--there was me, another guy who had shoulder length black hair and glasses, a chubby blonde guy with a buzz-cut, and a guy and his girlfriend. This guy had glasses and short, oily black hair, and his girlfriend had mousy brown hair and wore big sweaters.

We regularly drove to the graveyard to hunt vampires who were rapidly taking over the world. One night, we were over powered. The guy and his girlfriend were making out in the back seat so they never saw it coming. The other two guys vanished into the crowd of blood-suckers, and I was the last one fighting. I finally lost consciousness, and when I awoke, I was in a regular looking hospital. My friends were there and we were all okay. Only we were all vampires now, of course. As was everyone in the world. But it turned out that it didn't matter at all--everyone was exactly the same as a vampire, only we had pointy teeth.

. . . Just watched the last episode of Evangelion. Am I a sap for feeling terrifically better about reality for having watched it? Maybe. Maybe it helps to be reminded of very simple things now and then. It certainly seemed to help Shinji.

The last episodes of Evangelion are always better than I rememeber them. I almost don't wanna watch the Evangelion movie, afraid it'll spoil the vibe . . . maybe I'll wait on it awhile.

Hideaki Anno was right. How the last episode went was truly better than how a lot of people thought it should have ended. The series really was about being human, and not about big robots. Kudos to Anno.

On a side note, it becomes very apparent in the last episode that the voice of Rei, Megumi Hayashibara, is also the voice of Lina Inverse. And Girl-type Ranma. And . . . well, lots of people . . .

I feel like shit. Like Spangler said at the end of Ghostbusters, I feel like the bottom of a taxi cab.

But I shall press onward . . . I managed to get some laundry done last night, finally. And I drank copious amounts of Cherry Coke.

Talked to Cryptess on ICQ last night. Our first real time conversation since I left Seattle. She has sung in an opera thing.

Also last night, I spent a lot of time plotting the trip Trisa and I are taking to Los Angle-lease on Wednesday. It can't possibly go as bad as last time.
I have class to-day . . . But first I will have coffee.

"Now where am I?"-Ryoga Hibiki

Last night's episode of Justice League was surprisingly enjoyable. It really surpassed any previous episode. Even though there technically wasn't anything wildly original in the plot . . . It rather firmly held my attention. Perhaps because the animation is not only good but also, unlike it's counterpart X-Men: Evolution, it's very sensitive to how people actually move. Unlike most American animations, this one seems close to that typically exclusively Japanese knack of knowing what to animate and, when you don't have a massive budget, what not to animate.

X-Men: Evolution is a good example of this widespread folly as it is a show with good animation. The problem is that, the characters, when in conversation, or casually walking about, give one the sense--from the unnatural, overwrought gesticulations, and at times, outright bizarre walking frames (witness the Sirens episode and you'll starkly see what I mean)--that the people working on these animations have never actually witnessed a human being in motion.

And it's also true that the writing is a little better on Justice League. The premise of X-Men: Evolution, which attempts to pander to the Britney Spears-ish teen crowd, makes several miscalculations, most notably the absence of the Wolverine/Cyclops/Jean Grey love triangle.

So now I'm hungry . . .

It's definitely blue beach-ball time around here.

I bet you all know what I'm talking about and I bet you all have had the experience of bemusedly shaking your head, sighing with nigh frustrated affection, at the antics of those around you who bring home the blue beach ball that they naturally coinsider tyo be the best thing ever and always (I left my typos in because I liked them).

And what's not to like, really? It's round with a rubbery skin and filled with air. It's bouncible and playful.

Things can get scary though. I once heard of a woman drowning her own children rather than let them be tortured by blue-beach ball Death Collectors.

Of course, that was back in the forties, and to-day blue beach balls are generally deemed something like soma that's okay for kids. Kids even.

Sure, you get the popping accidents now and then. But it's kind of inhuman to deny anyone their basic right to blue beach balls, so whatta you gonna do?

. . . okay.

I'm gonna go for broke.

I'll just say it . . . I DON'T GET IT. WHAT IS SO FRELLING GREAT ABOUT THE BLUE BEACH BALL??!!

Oh! I almost forgot to mention . . . The Pumpkin Smash smoothies at Jamba Juice taste exactly like the vanilla milkshakes at Jack-In-the-Box.


"But answer there came none--And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one." -Tweedledee

Okay, so come 7am I did actually sleep, I think. Ha, eat that, gods. Or whoever you are.

Empty coke can still next to my mouse . . . I ended up watching more Star Trek and not being at all productive. It really is amazing how soothing it was to watch Star Trek. I never realised before what a tonic it is.

I'd made these Star Trek tapes a very long time ago . . . High School, childhood. I wonder if this is why Randolph Carter was so interested in pursing his childhood. Maybe if I keep watching my old Star Trek tapes . . . I'll slip out to where the Old Ones are?

I promised Tim I'd help him get a bookshelf to-day. I also need to buy shaving cream and deordant . . . I'm just so exciting, ain't I?

You may have noticed I added a bunch of links to this page. Go visit all of them repeatedly until you're reduced to a feverishly sweating, meaninglessly giggling little baby with bulging, senseless eyes.

I wanna get coffee . . . but first, I will do some crunches.


"Don't believe in yourself, don't deceive with belief, knowledge comes with death's release." -David Bowie

Halloa. I know this feeling. It's the feeling that says, "Hey, guess what? Yer not gonna get a wink of sleep to-night. And what's more, you probably won't be very productive."

What I need is a sedative (he says as he sips his coke).

As sedatives go, Star Trek is amazingly effective. But it's not enough.

Damn it, I swear to the gods that if I can't sleep I shall, damnit shall be productive.

Your soul is bound to the Fifth Totem, Homid:
The Monkey.

Homid appears as a viridian monkey. He embodies
intelligence, potential, understanding, and
skill. He is associated with the color
viridian, the season of spring, and the element
of fire. His downfall is pretentiousness.

You are most compatible with Owls and Tortoises.


Which Animal Spirit Totem Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Yesterday I encountered a man praying before his meal at the mall food court, a woman calling her boyfriend a retard in cloying, false anger, and a young woman who yelled vaguely near me at no one in particular about lesbian-haters, lazy communists, and fucking tits.

I also, because I was writing a scene in my novel that I was very happy with, felt more at peace with myself, and stronger, than I have felt in many days.

But right now, I'm angry because apparently I've just narrowly missed Trisa. It's the kind of cursed miss that gets thoroughly under my skin . . . So fucking angry . . . Maybe I'll try calling her from the mall. Maybe somehow the gods will allow me to reach her from there.

Old gum is bad gum. Don't try it.

I found some old Bazooka Joe bubble gum in my coin basket, leftover from when Trisa and I went to a nice 50s restaurant a long time ago. I was gonna throw them away but . . . I had to see the Bazooka Joe comics. And once I'd opened them, naturally I had to chew them. It's something I regret.

Oh, but . . .

Iichiwawa!!

I've been flat broke for the past couple of days but now, thanks to my enormous store of pennies, dimes, and nickels, and my patient coin-rolling, I have thirty-four dollars!! Yes, it is all from loose change.

The biggest yield was the dimes, which alone gave me twenty dollars. I was only able to roll two dollars of pennies as I had only four penny roll sleaves, and four dollars of nickels, as nickels seem to be by far the most scarce coin. I wonder why?

Then I found lots and lotsa quarters, and a single coin dollar. I also found British money, Thai money, and Star Wars action figure collectable coins. Not to mention all the movie stubs I found (Divine Intervention, Russian Ark, Wild At Heart). And oh, yes, the gum . . .

Sometimes I wish I had been born an eye. Just an eye . . . A big, annonymous, sensor. I feel that disinclined to generate output. Well, most output. I did do some writing to-day . . .

I have class on Wednesday and I wish I didn't as I'm currently broke. I don't have money for any gas except what's already in the tank.

Hmm . . . Most of the things on my mind right now are things I don't wanna write about here . . .

Life would be better without plastic. I think.

I think I'll just read right now . . .

??

Yup. I want another coke. But it feels like a bad idea . . . Actually, what I really want is orange juice.

To-morrow I'd like to use for getting lots of things done. But I doubt I shall. I have two appointments (hehe) to-morrow. Well, social calls. But social calls are impoitant, very impoitant (that's how Chiana's brother Nerri says "important").

Okay . . . I'll have another coke. I meant to do so much to-night . . . but a single new page of Doll Merchant was all that I managed.

Can't . . . stop . . . drinking . . . cokes! Can't stop! Huah! I'm on my third can in the last three hours . . . Oh, that's bad.

Maybe I'm just trying to get the taste of the Pepsi Vanilla out of my mouth.

Weeks ago, Tim recomended that I try the Pepsi Vanilla, saying that it had a stronger vanilla taste than the Vanilla Coke. My attempts to purchase the Pepsi Vanilla were thwarted by machines lacking the item and by machines bearing erroneous labels.

But finally; a stroke of luck. I got one.

So intense had my expectations become by this point that I could do nothing but feverishly scream/think "eureka!" as that, indeed, indelibly vanilla-ie stuff dribbled down my gullet, impregnating my eye with madness.

To-day, bearing my bottle of Pepsi Vanilla proudly to the home of my mother, I, in an aloof and mischievious tone, asked of my sister, "Have you tried the Pepsi Vanilla, hmmm?"

"Yes," she said. "It tastes like medicine."

Lightning flashed through my synapses(sp?) and I gasped, very like Inu-Yasha, foiled by Naraku. "It is true!" gasped I. For verily did it taste of cough syrup, and mine eyes and throat and the odd eyes in my throat and those things which feel things in things all viciously did attest to mine brain squegee; YES! IT IS BAD! IT IS PEPSI BLUE ALL OVER AGAIN! BUT WITH BLACK MAGIC!

Just when I thought words could not be emphasised in any other way, things got underlined, and I sunk into the despair of Knowing . . .

Later, I had myself beaten senseless by Lizard Man. Or the Lizard Men, I should say, as there were at least five of the bastards. This was at Tim's house, inside a Game Cube and a television, and I made Tim uncomfortable, and he had to leave the room. It was team battle (this was Soul Calibur 2, by the way, in case you hadn't picked up on it) and I was using Charade, Talim, and Taki against Lizard Man after Lizard Man, and not passing that stage for, as the game clock noted 90 frelling minutes. I had used the randomiser option to choose my characters (one of the challenges I set for myself. That, and the fact that I refuse to play on any level other than extremely hard), but it was still what I considered to be a good crew. Not to mention a sexy crew, as Talim and Taki are young, scantily clad women (Charade is a sexless construct/golem. But I bet there're some people who go for that). But having my--their--pretty little asses kicked repeatedly, so very many, many . . . many times began to make me feel I was being subjected to a brutal cruelty towards women. Lizard Man can not afford the ticket back from Suffragette City. Er, does that make sense?

The point is, folks . . . I went farbots in that little battle cage. Yes I did.

So . . . I've decided that I shall get more work done without the air coditioner, and with less light.

AH! I found my copy of Tori Amos's Little Earthquakes! It was in one of my Farscape DVD cases. Of all places! I don't remember why I put it in there . . . If I hadn't decided to watch A Clockwork Nebari to-day, who knows how long it would have been before I found it?

Gods . . . I hear children's voices elsewhere in the house . . .

I'm behind on a lot of things. I've taken the last couple of days for "research into the the arts" *koff, koff*

In the shower this morning, I started thinking about the entirety of my novel . . .