moodiness, thy name is dri
Vulnerable today... I don't know why ...
Going home tonight. This is a good thing.
This will be Make Icons Weekend.
I know I've promised lots of people lots of icons ... please feel free to poke this absent minded twit with a reminder. There shall be Gallo, Strange Little Girls, Wet!Jules, Court/Jules, Court/Anton and a whole new set of Dandys bases I've been procrastinating on for months.
And Complete Second Last Assignment of Writing Diploma-That-You-Don't-Need-Because-You-Already-Have-A-Three-Year-University-Degree Course. A plot breakdown, yay. 130 words to each chapter. Chapters??? Chapters are the invention of parents who want to go to bed, said a sage named Terry Pratchett. But I'll do it. Piffling easy, piffling piss. And I'll do it.
Somewhere in there I shall find time to read Wonder Boys and Junky and The Soft Machine and maybe The God Of Small Things.
I went to my first symphony recital last night. Something I didn't realise until about two minutes into it. zooey_wanderer is far better qualified to tell you about Katie Noonan.
I was just gobsmacked by the visual aspect of a symphony. To actually see all the violin bows move in perfect symmetry and unison, to see the precise way they all lift off at the exact same moment, how the trumpeters play, bend and pick up another instrument together. There was a grace and beauty to the sight that I had just never contemplated ... blue light reflecting off the polished wood of the violin bodies, the gorgeous silence of all those black clad people sitting behind their green backed music sheets.
I sat there and ached to be a musician. To be the person who devotes their entire lives to an instrument, arranging their lives and the lives of their families around this thing, this art. To be the person who is so steeped in knowledge of how this instrument works, how to make a pleasing sound out of it, all the intricacies and theories and jargon and personalities of that art. That's why I'm fascinated by people like christinafairy and wont and xcallusheartx. They do what I dream ...
And then I realised, "Wait a minute. I'm a writer. I know all these things about writing."
Truth is I don't want to be a musician. Might have something to do with the fact that I can't hit a note to save my life. I want to be an artist ... or more prosaically (hahaha), a professional.
Today seems to be my day for quiet wankery. As opposed to shrieking wankery. *g*
Going home tonight. This is a good thing.
This will be Make Icons Weekend.
I know I've promised lots of people lots of icons ... please feel free to poke this absent minded twit with a reminder. There shall be Gallo, Strange Little Girls, Wet!Jules, Court/Jules, Court/Anton and a whole new set of Dandys bases I've been procrastinating on for months.
And Complete Second Last Assignment of Writing Diploma-That-You-Don't-Need-Because-You-Already-Have-A-Three-Year-University-Degree Course. A plot breakdown, yay. 130 words to each chapter. Chapters??? Chapters are the invention of parents who want to go to bed, said a sage named Terry Pratchett. But I'll do it. Piffling easy, piffling piss. And I'll do it.
Somewhere in there I shall find time to read Wonder Boys and Junky and The Soft Machine and maybe The God Of Small Things.
I went to my first symphony recital last night. Something I didn't realise until about two minutes into it. zooey_wanderer is far better qualified to tell you about Katie Noonan.
I was just gobsmacked by the visual aspect of a symphony. To actually see all the violin bows move in perfect symmetry and unison, to see the precise way they all lift off at the exact same moment, how the trumpeters play, bend and pick up another instrument together. There was a grace and beauty to the sight that I had just never contemplated ... blue light reflecting off the polished wood of the violin bodies, the gorgeous silence of all those black clad people sitting behind their green backed music sheets.
I sat there and ached to be a musician. To be the person who devotes their entire lives to an instrument, arranging their lives and the lives of their families around this thing, this art. To be the person who is so steeped in knowledge of how this instrument works, how to make a pleasing sound out of it, all the intricacies and theories and jargon and personalities of that art. That's why I'm fascinated by people like christinafairy and wont and xcallusheartx. They do what I dream ...
And then I realised, "Wait a minute. I'm a writer. I know all these things about writing."
Truth is I don't want to be a musician. Might have something to do with the fact that I can't hit a note to save my life. I want to be an artist ... or more prosaically (hahaha), a professional.
Today seems to be my day for quiet wankery. As opposed to shrieking wankery. *g*