THAT IS SOME FUCKING GREAT COFFEE, NORMA
First of all, I think I need to share this with you, because the second letter is worth the read. Also, I just don't read/hear "cooter" enough. Cooter. LOL. Cooooter. And on equally amusing lines is this thread from reddit, in which anons prove that really sometimes, no one knowing who you are can make the best conversations between people, especially when you're talking about having an orgasm from climbing rope.
Secondly, I lost a very good friendship yesterday to mutual asshattery, but every email has been written and sent and now we're at the Mexican standoff part where no one does anything. I think it's a window like the boyfriend window in Coupling. Movement in this time period could mean possible repair, but if enough time elapses, then it's broken irrevocably. I suspect that the window will simply fly by, silent as a drape runner coated with oiled cotton balls, mostly because we are also too stubborn to email each other. Something about pride and crapola. I dunno. I find myself listless and casting about for things in their absence, and that is a strange feeling.
But you know when you reach that point where you send an email or finish a sentence in a conversation, and you literally have no idea what to say next and you realise that that is because it's not your turn to talk? Yeah. That's another window. The pause window. And if you talk during that time then you risk the problem of overplaying your hand, or making the souffle fall or using too many metaphors in one sentence.
Thirddesque, I'm glad that people liked the fic yesterday. It had been eating at my skull, and is one of several almost finished fics that I have floating in the ether. They all pretty much need three paragraphs and money shot, but I've been putting them off for deadline fic, which is dumb, because this isn't professional writing, and I'm not beholden, and the deadline fic is like…well, I was gonna make a joke about blockage that would have ended with a prescribed enema, and no one wants that.
Funny, because the next fic to be done will probably be the enema fic. Just in case you were worried that I'd got all warm and fuzzy. Nope, this…wow I just erased the worst fecal related Dune joke ever. HONEST TO GOD, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS…OMG I HAVE TO ERASE THAT TOO. I AM SO SORRY, PEOPLE.
In the manner of fourth things, while we're on the subject of shit, I deleted my twitter, so you can stop emailing me to tell me that my twitter is gone. It wasn't a good idea for me, and I miss it, but I sense that it's the same thing as wanting to live off pork rinds and skittles. Or have a fish-pony. Think about that-would that really be a good idea? A fish-pony? As Topol would say, "A bird may love a fish, but where will they build a home? No, THERE IS NO OTHER HAND. TRADITION! LASER WOLF!" Ahem.
I know what you're going to say, "Amand-r, isn't the seahorse a fish-pony?" I have an answer for that, reader: fuck and you. You ruined a perfectly good false metaphor by looking for actual meaning instead of chuckling at the combination of the words fish and pony. I'm thinking of some guy standing out in the old west sniffing the air and saying, "The mail is coming." "How do you know?" young Clem, our narrator, would ask. "Smells like tuna," the some old guy would say.
Roll credits. That would have saved this show (and perhaps have got them corporate sponsorship).
Fish-ponies would also have saved this show. Well, no, nothing was gonna save this show.
Is fifthly even a word? If it were, I would say it right now for this:
Okay here's the thing. I love the movie this is from, but it's a 1989 release of Polly! from Disney and that's not everyone's cup of tea. But I need the lyrics to the song, and my google fu has failed me. I am stuck listening to this poor clip, and I don't think I have them right. The clip is below. You don't have to watch the whole thing. The lyrics I need start at 2:03
HELLO AWESOME STOMPING. ANYWAY. Here's what I got:
She's like the morning when the sun comes up (it skips here, but I know that part)
The sweetest sugar in my coffee cup
And every moment, you're elucified
You're my sweet little angel eyes.
You're ELUCIFIED? WHAT? NAAAAW. HALP?
Lastly, I'm a little perplexed as to why more people haven't read lionessvalenti's Caught in the Ashes. A short anti-fix-it that is a fix-it, if you have very thin standards of things being fixed on more than one level. This is a Ianto who is alive and loves Jack, and a Jack who loves Ianto, but sometimes, well, sometimes. I don't want to get into a debate about sadness in fic being unbearable, Legolas, because my theory is that if Ianto's death made you sad, you've already had the worst of it, and this is gorgeous and sweet and sad in some ways, and ingenious in its narration, and so very spot on. The moments between Jack and Ianto are both wrenching and still the sort of affection that I will openly admit now that I always wanted to see from Jack.
And with some really gorgeous lines like Sometimes, you can rouse him with a drink and a strip show, or simply a smile at the right time, and he kisses you like he means it (maybe he does) and the two of you fall back in line. and Jack looks up and he's helpless. He's desperate and you've never seen him like this before. Something in your mind shifts and Jack is a new person., lionessvalenti gives us a maybe-maybe not narrator who isn't sure of Jack even at the same time that you see Jack through their eyes as the man you know. That's charming. Also? A really smooth second person that I rather adore. But then, I'm biased in that department.
So drop your jocks and grab your socks and hie on over to read. To grandmother's house we go. Something about a sleigh and a horse. Oh shut up, you love it, Scott.
Secondly, I lost a very good friendship yesterday to mutual asshattery, but every email has been written and sent and now we're at the Mexican standoff part where no one does anything. I think it's a window like the boyfriend window in Coupling. Movement in this time period could mean possible repair, but if enough time elapses, then it's broken irrevocably. I suspect that the window will simply fly by, silent as a drape runner coated with oiled cotton balls, mostly because we are also too stubborn to email each other. Something about pride and crapola. I dunno. I find myself listless and casting about for things in their absence, and that is a strange feeling.
But you know when you reach that point where you send an email or finish a sentence in a conversation, and you literally have no idea what to say next and you realise that that is because it's not your turn to talk? Yeah. That's another window. The pause window. And if you talk during that time then you risk the problem of overplaying your hand, or making the souffle fall or using too many metaphors in one sentence.
Thirddesque, I'm glad that people liked the fic yesterday. It had been eating at my skull, and is one of several almost finished fics that I have floating in the ether. They all pretty much need three paragraphs and money shot, but I've been putting them off for deadline fic, which is dumb, because this isn't professional writing, and I'm not beholden, and the deadline fic is like…well, I was gonna make a joke about blockage that would have ended with a prescribed enema, and no one wants that.
Funny, because the next fic to be done will probably be the enema fic. Just in case you were worried that I'd got all warm and fuzzy. Nope, this…wow I just erased the worst fecal related Dune joke ever. HONEST TO GOD, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS…OMG I HAVE TO ERASE THAT TOO. I AM SO SORRY, PEOPLE.
In the manner of fourth things, while we're on the subject of shit, I deleted my twitter, so you can stop emailing me to tell me that my twitter is gone. It wasn't a good idea for me, and I miss it, but I sense that it's the same thing as wanting to live off pork rinds and skittles. Or have a fish-pony. Think about that-would that really be a good idea? A fish-pony? As Topol would say, "A bird may love a fish, but where will they build a home? No, THERE IS NO OTHER HAND. TRADITION! LASER WOLF!" Ahem.
I know what you're going to say, "Amand-r, isn't the seahorse a fish-pony?" I have an answer for that, reader: fuck and you. You ruined a perfectly good false metaphor by looking for actual meaning instead of chuckling at the combination of the words fish and pony. I'm thinking of some guy standing out in the old west sniffing the air and saying, "The mail is coming." "How do you know?" young Clem, our narrator, would ask. "Smells like tuna," the some old guy would say.
Roll credits. That would have saved this show (and perhaps have got them corporate sponsorship).
Fish-ponies would also have saved this show. Well, no, nothing was gonna save this show.
Is fifthly even a word? If it were, I would say it right now for this:
Okay here's the thing. I love the movie this is from, but it's a 1989 release of Polly! from Disney and that's not everyone's cup of tea. But I need the lyrics to the song, and my google fu has failed me. I am stuck listening to this poor clip, and I don't think I have them right. The clip is below. You don't have to watch the whole thing. The lyrics I need start at 2:03
Click to view
HELLO AWESOME STOMPING. ANYWAY. Here's what I got:
She's like the morning when the sun comes up (it skips here, but I know that part)
The sweetest sugar in my coffee cup
And every moment, you're elucified
You're my sweet little angel eyes.
You're ELUCIFIED? WHAT? NAAAAW. HALP?
Lastly, I'm a little perplexed as to why more people haven't read lionessvalenti's Caught in the Ashes. A short anti-fix-it that is a fix-it, if you have very thin standards of things being fixed on more than one level. This is a Ianto who is alive and loves Jack, and a Jack who loves Ianto, but sometimes, well, sometimes. I don't want to get into a debate about sadness in fic being unbearable, Legolas, because my theory is that if Ianto's death made you sad, you've already had the worst of it, and this is gorgeous and sweet and sad in some ways, and ingenious in its narration, and so very spot on. The moments between Jack and Ianto are both wrenching and still the sort of affection that I will openly admit now that I always wanted to see from Jack.
And with some really gorgeous lines like Sometimes, you can rouse him with a drink and a strip show, or simply a smile at the right time, and he kisses you like he means it (maybe he does) and the two of you fall back in line. and Jack looks up and he's helpless. He's desperate and you've never seen him like this before. Something in your mind shifts and Jack is a new person., lionessvalenti gives us a maybe-maybe not narrator who isn't sure of Jack even at the same time that you see Jack through their eyes as the man you know. That's charming. Also? A really smooth second person that I rather adore. But then, I'm biased in that department.
So drop your jocks and grab your socks and hie on over to read. To grandmother's house we go. Something about a sleigh and a horse. Oh shut up, you love it, Scott.