(no subject)
I think my damn angst muse has packed up and left for fuck knows where. Seriously, I get ideas but just thinking of writing them down has me scowling and just...
It's all been done before, nothing is new and I'm just repeating myself. Making them hurt for hurt's sake with no actual reason behind it. Emotional porn hubby calls it (it's probably called something else in English and I'm just too tired to remember), except not when talking about my writing since he doesn't read it but you know, all those My Horrible Life autobiographies that you should read because hey, pain is real and we need to be reminded of that or whatever. Like Holocaust or Rwanda survivor stories or... Angela's Ashes was on TV last night and I've seen it before and I've read the book and 'Tis as well and they're good stuff but I couldn't watch it again. Too much misery. [ETA. I kinda picked bad examples, I suddenly realised and it makes me sound very callous. IT's not meant that way. It's more about my inability to handlereal misery than anything else, really.]
Emotional porn it's like something you read (or write or watch) just to feel miserable. (I did point out to him that he makes it sound like porn is bad.)
Yeah, I feel like whatever ideas I get I'm just doing that.
Which, yeah, no problem. Focus on my happy silly muse instead, right? Except she's kinda gone too. I'm trying to write The Ultimate Gay Test 3 and I'm Just. Not. Funny. *sighs* I'm thinking both those bitches went together on a Disney BDSM cruise or something. Which is a very disturbing image. *zones out*
I should just stick to porn. Except I'm not really good at that. Anyone ever noticed how little sex there actually is in my stories? Erm... in case you hadn't I didn't just say that. Nope. *shakes head* There's sex. Lots of sex. Hot sex. With cocks and everything. Uhuh. *distracts you with teh shiny*
Oh, and did I mention the annual Gay Pride party at my brother's place is a no go this year? So it's not really an official Gay Pride party it just so happens that my sister's birthday is around the same time so first we eat, then we get drunk and play Singstar and then we go to the Gay Pride dance. It's a tradition, man, and one I was counting on. Except my brother has a 4 month old baby and my sister was invited to a party elsewhere. *sulks* So I guess it's just me and hubby then, getting drunk on our own and then going downtown for the dance, meeting my sis there. Which isn't nearly as much fun. Man, this sucks. *kicks wall*
[ETA. I suddenly got the urge to write some really dirty filthy het sex. Where the hell did that come from? Exorcism! I need an Exorcism! *listens to mp3 file of Dean reading Latin* I think it's working... With someone talking really filthy, growling dirty words and calling her a whore and a bitch while he fucks her hard doggystyle. Help!]
It's all been done before, nothing is new and I'm just repeating myself. Making them hurt for hurt's sake with no actual reason behind it. Emotional porn hubby calls it (it's probably called something else in English and I'm just too tired to remember), except not when talking about my writing since he doesn't read it but you know, all those My Horrible Life autobiographies that you should read because hey, pain is real and we need to be reminded of that or whatever. Like Holocaust or Rwanda survivor stories or... Angela's Ashes was on TV last night and I've seen it before and I've read the book and 'Tis as well and they're good stuff but I couldn't watch it again. Too much misery. [ETA. I kinda picked bad examples, I suddenly realised and it makes me sound very callous. IT's not meant that way. It's more about my inability to handlereal misery than anything else, really.]
Emotional porn it's like something you read (or write or watch) just to feel miserable. (I did point out to him that he makes it sound like porn is bad.)
Yeah, I feel like whatever ideas I get I'm just doing that.
Which, yeah, no problem. Focus on my happy silly muse instead, right? Except she's kinda gone too. I'm trying to write The Ultimate Gay Test 3 and I'm Just. Not. Funny. *sighs* I'm thinking both those bitches went together on a Disney BDSM cruise or something. Which is a very disturbing image. *zones out*
I should just stick to porn. Except I'm not really good at that. Anyone ever noticed how little sex there actually is in my stories? Erm... in case you hadn't I didn't just say that. Nope. *shakes head* There's sex. Lots of sex. Hot sex. With cocks and everything. Uhuh. *distracts you with teh shiny*
Oh, and did I mention the annual Gay Pride party at my brother's place is a no go this year? So it's not really an official Gay Pride party it just so happens that my sister's birthday is around the same time so first we eat, then we get drunk and play Singstar and then we go to the Gay Pride dance. It's a tradition, man, and one I was counting on. Except my brother has a 4 month old baby and my sister was invited to a party elsewhere. *sulks* So I guess it's just me and hubby then, getting drunk on our own and then going downtown for the dance, meeting my sis there. Which isn't nearly as much fun. Man, this sucks. *kicks wall*
[ETA. I suddenly got the urge to write some really dirty filthy het sex. Where the hell did that come from? Exorcism! I need an Exorcism! *listens to mp3 file of Dean reading Latin* I think it's working... With someone talking really filthy, growling dirty words and calling her a whore and a bitch while he fucks her hard doggystyle. Help!]