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Consider it kismet, perhaps, or an aligning of the planets in some esoteric pattern. Call it the luck of a well-placed wish, made on a falling star, a plucked eyelash, or a digital clock burning 11:11 into the darkness. God's work, the devil's work, the work of some amorphous personification of the fates--
It doesn't matter how you parse it. Something has happened, and it has come about in such a complicated turn of events that the only way for most people to accept its occurrence is in calling it chance.
--
what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? I don't even know. as a bonus, two small writing-y things from oneword.com originally--you know, the site where they give you a word and a minute, and in return, you type? they aren't good, but I feel like holding onto them anyway.
( this is a junk drawer of a post )
It doesn't matter how you parse it. Something has happened, and it has come about in such a complicated turn of events that the only way for most people to accept its occurrence is in calling it chance.
--
what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? I don't even know. as a bonus, two small writing-y things from oneword.com originally--you know, the site where they give you a word and a minute, and in return, you type? they aren't good, but I feel like holding onto them anyway.
( this is a junk drawer of a post )
It's a snippet from a TCLS fic I'm never going to finish. The main point was to get Cal and his niece (because as we all know, when in doubt, I write next-gen fic) into a bit of a verbal spat, but I couldn't get it to there. So let's give up for now, et cetera. This is from end-of-April-beginning-of-May; Jean and I sat by the river and it was blinding and beautiful and instantly reminiscent of Fun Home for me. All this blah blah blah to stall on something that isn't very good and isn't at all done, but sometimes one wants just to put it up and forget about it for a while, et cetera.
( up to sunset, the hudson glittered )
( up to sunset, the hudson glittered )
Mistakes in the way of syntax and typos and etc can be blamed on the fact that I am not wearing my glasses right now. Mistakes in the way of logic, voice, canon, and et cetera can be blamed on the fact that I was getting to sleep and was viciously attacked by this idea and am now typing it directly into this post in hopes of getting it down now and getting it down good later. I don't know when it's set, but since probably no one reading this knows the source material and also, it's late, who cares?
( I lay on my back on the lumpy couch, staring up. )
I have been ravenous for thinks lately, but the problem with that is that you have to write something (and it would help if it didn't suck) before you can get feedback on it. SIGH self is lazy and also is writing a shitty Jess tonight. The problem with first-person books is that it's really obvious when you're Doing It Wrong. DX Maybe in the morning I will fix it up some.
( I lay on my back on the lumpy couch, staring up. )
I have been ravenous for thinks lately, but the problem with that is that you have to write something (and it would help if it didn't suck) before you can get feedback on it. SIGH self is lazy and also is writing a shitty Jess tonight. The problem with first-person books is that it's really obvious when you're Doing It Wrong. DX Maybe in the morning I will fix it up some.
"That which doesn't kill me makes me a badass, huh, Cyrano?"
"Keep up the quips and we're running ten miles today instead," he said mildly.
"You're shitting me."
"Only one way to find out, little brother."
--
...Yeah, I got nothing (lies--there's a setup and I'm too tired to write it, but the main point of the whole thing is so I can use Cal's line >>). But in a week and a half or so, I'm starting up at my summer job again, and I will have just stupid amounts of time for writing terrible fic. /o/ In the meantime, go easy on me, I graduate tomorrow. XD
eta: Did I just accidentally plagiarize half that conversation from the books? Because I'll feel really dumb if I did, but I really wouldn't be surprised. >> Sleepy AR is sleepy and useless as fuck, man.
"Keep up the quips and we're running ten miles today instead," he said mildly.
"You're shitting me."
"Only one way to find out, little brother."
--
...Yeah, I got nothing (lies--there's a setup and I'm too tired to write it, but the main point of the whole thing is so I can use Cal's line >>). But in a week and a half or so, I'm starting up at my summer job again, and I will have just stupid amounts of time for writing terrible fic. /o/ In the meantime, go easy on me, I graduate tomorrow. XD
eta: Did I just accidentally plagiarize half that conversation from the books? Because I'll feel really dumb if I did, but I really wouldn't be surprised. >> Sleepy AR is sleepy and useless as fuck, man.
So I tried to write out something that I mentioned to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thereoncewas, that I've had in mind to write but haven't found a way to do well yet. I still don't think I succeeded here, and posting this is actually making me kind of skittery, but. It's a try, and so be it and et cetera.
Niko/Promise, like everything I write in tcls fandom is turning into.
( try number 1 )
thereoncewas, that I've had in mind to write but haven't found a way to do well yet. I still don't think I succeeded here, and posting this is actually making me kind of skittery, but. It's a try, and so be it and et cetera.Niko/Promise, like everything I write in tcls fandom is turning into.
( try number 1 )
She sighed and leaned her head in her hands, elbows on the kitchen table. I'd knocked all the wind out of her sails. Without looking at me, my mother replied in a tight, small voice, as if she was trying not to cry. "Goldberg. Her name was Jess Goldberg."
With her name in my ears, my memories suddenly felt as clear as when they first happened. Everything about Jess--her smell, her laugh, the way she looked at the eagles at the zoo the day she told us she was leaving--came into focus.
Jess Goldberg.
I was going to find her.
--
When we have time again, let's write Stone Butch Blues fanfic with Kim as the narrator on the search for Jess. Please, please, please. I need for that story to occur.
...Don't ask why I'm half-trying to mimic Jess's narration when I want to set it in Kim's POV. I just want to.Besides, questioning why I wanted to write Stone Butch Blues fic in the first place is probably a smarter place to start.
With her name in my ears, my memories suddenly felt as clear as when they first happened. Everything about Jess--her smell, her laugh, the way she looked at the eagles at the zoo the day she told us she was leaving--came into focus.
Jess Goldberg.
I was going to find her.
--
When we have time again, let's write Stone Butch Blues fanfic with Kim as the narrator on the search for Jess. Please, please, please. I need for that story to occur.
...Don't ask why I'm half-trying to mimic Jess's narration when I want to set it in Kim's POV. I just want to.
Was going to be a story about small!Niko and small!Cal having to go and retrieve Sophia from a bar. Was kind of a stupid idea, but it fit with the music I was listening to and I wanted to write something. Dunno if I'll bother trying to finish it--the voice sounds off to me, and the storyline's kind of dumb. Felt like posting it anyway, because I was literally typing it into this box and was worried it would end up accidentally disappeared if I didn't. Blah, blah, blah.
( as most alcoholics weren't )
( as most alcoholics weren't )
She leveled a glare at me that could've peeled the paint off our trailer and took a swig of gin. "Seven years since I was stuck with you, Caliban. Seven fucking years."
And here I'd only come into the kitchen to see if we had any more bargain-brand cereal left. That year, the fact that dear old Mom was up before one in the afternoon without moaning about a hangover was a minor miracle--but it still made a shitty birthday present.
--
This is why I hope nobody is missing me--because they're definitely not missing much at all. XD Hi, my name is AR, and I can't really write Sophia worth shit.
Hopefully I will have the longer story I've been working on intermittently finished by the time I get home. It's going to be be kind of the stupidest thing I've ever written, and if you don't believe me, ask me what it's about. >>
...I love how my blah-blah-blah is longer than the shit I've actually posted. XD
And here I'd only come into the kitchen to see if we had any more bargain-brand cereal left. That year, the fact that dear old Mom was up before one in the afternoon without moaning about a hangover was a minor miracle--but it still made a shitty birthday present.
--
This is why I hope nobody is missing me--because they're definitely not missing much at all. XD Hi, my name is AR, and I can't really write Sophia worth shit.
Hopefully I will have the longer story I've been working on intermittently finished by the time I get home. It's going to be be kind of the stupidest thing I've ever written, and if you don't believe me, ask me what it's about. >>
...I love how my blah-blah-blah is longer than the shit I've actually posted. XD
It isn't good, and I don't feel I did a good job at all with the voices--but hey, it's been a while. >> I was being all stalky with cal_sitter, as you do, and Jen had mentioned right about here the most fantastic idea evar. I feel bad for not asking before stealing wholesale, but. There we go. >>
Anyway, it's set around when Niko is...fifteen-sixteen?...and Cal is however old Cal is. It's shameful how hard I find it to keep their ages straight. But I think it's being told in retrospect--again, as you do. And it's also terrible, but that goes without saying, et cetera.
( What the hell are these? )
cal_sitter, as you do, and Jen had mentioned right about here the most fantastic idea evar. I feel bad for not asking before stealing wholesale, but. There we go. >>Anyway, it's set around when Niko is...fifteen-sixteen?...and Cal is however old Cal is. It's shameful how hard I find it to keep their ages straight. But I think it's being told in retrospect--again, as you do. And it's also terrible, but that goes without saying, et cetera.
( What the hell are these? )
...The fact that writing more than a few sentences of fiction seems to absolutely drain me is depressing the fuck out of me tonight. But on the off-chance that something can someday come of it for me, here it is.
V for Vendetta, movieverse. Post-torture, pre-leaving. It was originally going to involve cryptic attempts at past-sharing on V's part. And it's shit and I've mixed up words, I know it, but hey. Shit's what we're here for.
( by force the bloody arm of )
He's quoting Frederick Douglass's autobiography. Quotation in context is this:
( the day had passed forever when I could be a slave in fact. )
V for Vendetta, movieverse. Post-torture, pre-leaving. It was originally going to involve cryptic attempts at past-sharing on V's part. And it's shit and I've mixed up words, I know it, but hey. Shit's what we're here for.
( by force the bloody arm of )
He's quoting Frederick Douglass's autobiography. Quotation in context is this:
( the day had passed forever when I could be a slave in fact. )
The return of marginalia! Or, why AR should not be allowed to draw pretty much evar. ^^;;;
My prof in American Writers today mentioned how, in Nam Le's The Boat, he saw a pattern of feelings--or rather, the lack thereof. The characters in the stories we've read have been in situations where allowing themselves to feel anything more than the very surfaces of emotions would just destroy them. They have to live on the surface, or they won't be able to live at all.
And that made me think of the quote scrawled across the top of this, and that got me a-doodling, because my attention span was low due to huuuuunger, and there I was by the end of class, hoping no one was seeing how ridiculously low-quality my geeky creation was. XD
I left part of my notes because I'm just that enamoured of my own handwriting. I'm so self-interested. >>
( the dangerous business of feeling )
...Fuck, I miss pretending to be Evey. ^^;; The fact that she did allow herself to feel again, despite the dangers--God, how amazing is that? Really fucking amazing. I still think it's beautiful.
My prof in American Writers today mentioned how, in Nam Le's The Boat, he saw a pattern of feelings--or rather, the lack thereof. The characters in the stories we've read have been in situations where allowing themselves to feel anything more than the very surfaces of emotions would just destroy them. They have to live on the surface, or they won't be able to live at all.
And that made me think of the quote scrawled across the top of this, and that got me a-doodling, because my attention span was low due to huuuuunger, and there I was by the end of class, hoping no one was seeing how ridiculously low-quality my geeky creation was. XD
I left part of my notes because I'm just that enamoured of my own handwriting. I'm so self-interested. >>
( the dangerous business of feeling )
...Fuck, I miss pretending to be Evey. ^^;; The fact that she did allow herself to feel again, despite the dangers--God, how amazing is that? Really fucking amazing. I still think it's beautiful.
DAMN IT, family.
I was writing something, and then you all had to go and come down here and do things and then I lost my entire thread of thought. It was the first exercise from the bookgreyfable recommended, The 3 A.M. Epiphany, and it was supposed to be Niko and it wasn't really going anywhere or being at all good, but DAMN IT I WAS WRITING OKAY.
...I'm putting it up here anyhow, so I can maybe try and rescue it when I can retreat somewhere silent and laptop the hell out of it (MAYBE TOMORROW OMG). This is why I'm so desperate for the ability to move my computer around lately. >> Because no one can shut up around here.
( in which there is more evidence that ar can't write mr. robin )
I was writing something, and then you all had to go and come down here and do things and then I lost my entire thread of thought. It was the first exercise from the book
greyfable recommended, The 3 A.M. Epiphany, and it was supposed to be Niko and it wasn't really going anywhere or being at all good, but DAMN IT I WAS WRITING OKAY....I'm putting it up here anyhow, so I can maybe try and rescue it when I can retreat somewhere silent and laptop the hell out of it (MAYBE TOMORROW OMG). This is why I'm so desperate for the ability to move my computer around lately. >> Because no one can shut up around here.
( in which there is more evidence that ar can't write mr. robin )
Spoilers for V for Vendetta. Except you've all probably seen it and it's only a few sentences and planny thoughts, anyhow. Sound and fury--it doesn't say anything exciting and there isn't any real shred of analysis or original idea. Not actually worth reading.
( I wish I had the time/inclination/ability to write actual fandom essays )
( I wish I had the time/inclination/ability to write actual fandom essays )
