my regular Tuesday suit
I don't have to be at work till 6:00 tonight, which offers me the longest stretch of downtime I've had since the 4th of July and I am trying very hard not to read HBP, because I want to save it for my plane flight on Wednesday. I'm on page 198, because what was supposed to be "just a little taste" turned out to be not so much, but that still leaves me plenty of Rowling for the five and a half hour flight from LA to Boston on Wednesday, provided I don't crack it open now and eat the whole thing before lunch.
I'm going home for a wedding, my cousin's wedding, the first wedding for any of us cousins on that side of the family, and what's more he's knocked up his hot French fiancee, so he's making an honest woman outta her which means that in six or seven months I get a little BABY cousin right here in Long Beach for babysitting purposes and for molding in my image and grooming to be the next Dread Pirate Roberts. I want a girl. The wedding's in the backyard of my parents' new, long-awaited Northampton home, 120 degrees in Massachussetts' Pioneer Valley and mosquitoes as big as yer fist. I'm gone Wednesday to Wednesday. It's practically a vacation except for all the long-lost relatives packed together in the Noho home looking for kisses and caterers and white folding chairs. It will be a welcome alternative to work. Let Bush name Edith Chambers to the bench while I'm gone. I'm looking forward not to standing in the line of fire, for once.
Four more hours, and HBP is taunting me, all big and purple. Here's a meme I found at pearl_o's house:
1. Name your ten favourite titles from stories you've written (or, if you're not a writer, just name your ten favourite titles).
Pissing in No-Man's Land, Bayliss/Kellerman, written for yuletide
A new device is being tested
Some Books About Crooks
Fan Interference is a Stand-Up Double written with wearemany, about Dan Rydell
Where Have You Gone, Tom Glavine?
Coming Back From the War: "the story was about coming back from the war but there was no mention of the war in it." -- Hemingway
Celebrated Blue Period: "If I'd met you during my celebrated blue period I don't know what I would have done." -- Hawkeye, to Carlie
In bed, I am an astronaut
The Largest Colonial Building in the World
General, dein Tank ist ein starker Wagen (used with permission from runpunkrun and Bertolt Brecht)
2: If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
Well, here's something fun. The start of my long-stalled Remix Redux III assignment, 30k and percolating here on my harddrive. Now's as good a time as any for the great REVEAL; there's an 80% chance I'll finish this thing and post it one day. Until then:
I'm remixing Reconciliation by inalasahl, which is really a lot of fun and full of sneaky inveigling and obfuscating. But for now, just a taste...
The beginning:
This time there were no dead bodies, but the postmaster shoved their mail at them in fistfuls anyhow, nodding and smiling in hyperactive silence and eager to see them gone. Simon slipped out into the corridor while Mal was signing customs reports and stopped under a sign that said THIS AREA UNDER CONSTANT VIDEO SURVEILLANCE YOU ARE BEING WATCHED to read his mail.
The Wu Lu Bai Center for Veterinary Studies wanted money; so did Amity Hospital, The David Wiesenstock Memorial, and -- in a remarkable exercise in audacity, Simon thought, slipping a finger under the envelope’s flap -- so did River’s alma mater, the Academy at Portia. Simon folded each of the other solicitations in half and stuffed them in his pocket. Later, dutifully, he’d send each institution a check. The one from the Academy he balled up and tossed in the trash chute. He got no other mail. He never got any other mail. No newspaper, no journals, no idea if his parents were enjoying the humiliating ruination they'd been promised when River busted free of the Academy Simon's parents had sunk half a mil into, tax-deductibly, the year before.
"Cap’n’s letting us stop for drinks," Kaylee hopped over, extending an elbow for Simon. He took it. "There’s a place down here’s got the best moonrise duststorms outside Felicity."
"And what exactly is in a moonrise duststorm?" Simon asked. "Which planet’s downhome brand of local hooch got the dubious honor of spending the best years of its life trapped in a vat with powderized street smack and food coloring in order to earn such a touristy name and jacked-up price?"
"Ni shi sha gua, Doc, ain‘t you ever just had a good time?" Jayne spat, elbowing past and careening off into the bar.
Kaylee looked up at Simon and he smiled, cutting her off at the apology. "It’s okay," he said. "It’s what Jayne and I do instead of sniffing each other’s asses."
*
And for fun, inalasahl's beginning:
This time when they picked up the mail there were no dead bodies, yet the postmaster was obviously still eager to see the back of them. It had been almost two weeks since they'd been off ship and no one wanted to head back right away.
"We got time to look around, don't we?" Kaylee asked Mal.
"Yeah," he said. He was still looking at the postmaster who kept glancing at them nervously. "How about we all stop for a drink?" Mal suggested. Everyone quickly agreed. Simon could see the disappointment on Kaylee's face and found it hard to stifle a groan. He never should have asked her out last time they'd stopped here. Most of the time he liked hanging out with Kaylee. She was becoming one of the best friends he'd ever had, but sometimes she could be overbearing.
Simon watched as Kaylee struggled for a moment, her inherently sunny nature finally winning out. "They make the best Moonrise Duststorms here," she told Simon as she took his hand. "You've got to try one." Simon smiled down at her. He wished he knew what was wrong with him. She was pretty and nice, and he got along better with her than he had with anyone other than River, but he felt only a slight warmth with her palm wrapped around his.
*Whump.* Jayne's solid mass caromed into Simon from behind, sending the shorter man stumbling. Simon turned in confusion. Jayne clutched a letter in his hand. He must have been reading it rather than paying attention to where he was walking. Jayne looked as startled as Simon, windmilling backwards to put distance between the two of them again and refusing to meet Simon's eyes. Simon sighed. No one had noticed yet, but it was only a matter of time. Things hadn't been the same between the two of them since the Lassiter job. It wouldn't be too long before someone noticed that Jayne, who had always been so eager to harass Simon in the past, had started ignoring him. When Simon had first realized it he'd been relieved, but he was starting to find it annoying. Simon didn't know what to do about it. He didn't even know that he wanted to. It still made him sick to think of what could have happened on Ariel. He still spent too many nights worrying whether River was safe on this ship after all. He turned back away from Jayne without saying anything.
[Read the rest of Inalasahl's "Reconcilation" HERE]
Read the rest of my remix...someday. *g*
Three more hours.
Damn you, big purple book.
I'm going home for a wedding, my cousin's wedding, the first wedding for any of us cousins on that side of the family, and what's more he's knocked up his hot French fiancee, so he's making an honest woman outta her which means that in six or seven months I get a little BABY cousin right here in Long Beach for babysitting purposes and for molding in my image and grooming to be the next Dread Pirate Roberts. I want a girl. The wedding's in the backyard of my parents' new, long-awaited Northampton home, 120 degrees in Massachussetts' Pioneer Valley and mosquitoes as big as yer fist. I'm gone Wednesday to Wednesday. It's practically a vacation except for all the long-lost relatives packed together in the Noho home looking for kisses and caterers and white folding chairs. It will be a welcome alternative to work. Let Bush name Edith Chambers to the bench while I'm gone. I'm looking forward not to standing in the line of fire, for once.
Four more hours, and HBP is taunting me, all big and purple. Here's a meme I found at pearl_o's house:
1. Name your ten favourite titles from stories you've written (or, if you're not a writer, just name your ten favourite titles).
Pissing in No-Man's Land, Bayliss/Kellerman, written for yuletide
A new device is being tested
Some Books About Crooks
Fan Interference is a Stand-Up Double written with wearemany, about Dan Rydell
Where Have You Gone, Tom Glavine?
Coming Back From the War: "the story was about coming back from the war but there was no mention of the war in it." -- Hemingway
Celebrated Blue Period: "If I'd met you during my celebrated blue period I don't know what I would have done." -- Hawkeye, to Carlie
In bed, I am an astronaut
The Largest Colonial Building in the World
General, dein Tank ist ein starker Wagen (used with permission from runpunkrun and Bertolt Brecht)
2: If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
Well, here's something fun. The start of my long-stalled Remix Redux III assignment, 30k and percolating here on my harddrive. Now's as good a time as any for the great REVEAL; there's an 80% chance I'll finish this thing and post it one day. Until then:
I'm remixing Reconciliation by inalasahl, which is really a lot of fun and full of sneaky inveigling and obfuscating. But for now, just a taste...
The beginning:
This time there were no dead bodies, but the postmaster shoved their mail at them in fistfuls anyhow, nodding and smiling in hyperactive silence and eager to see them gone. Simon slipped out into the corridor while Mal was signing customs reports and stopped under a sign that said THIS AREA UNDER CONSTANT VIDEO SURVEILLANCE YOU ARE BEING WATCHED to read his mail.
The Wu Lu Bai Center for Veterinary Studies wanted money; so did Amity Hospital, The David Wiesenstock Memorial, and -- in a remarkable exercise in audacity, Simon thought, slipping a finger under the envelope’s flap -- so did River’s alma mater, the Academy at Portia. Simon folded each of the other solicitations in half and stuffed them in his pocket. Later, dutifully, he’d send each institution a check. The one from the Academy he balled up and tossed in the trash chute. He got no other mail. He never got any other mail. No newspaper, no journals, no idea if his parents were enjoying the humiliating ruination they'd been promised when River busted free of the Academy Simon's parents had sunk half a mil into, tax-deductibly, the year before.
"Cap’n’s letting us stop for drinks," Kaylee hopped over, extending an elbow for Simon. He took it. "There’s a place down here’s got the best moonrise duststorms outside Felicity."
"And what exactly is in a moonrise duststorm?" Simon asked. "Which planet’s downhome brand of local hooch got the dubious honor of spending the best years of its life trapped in a vat with powderized street smack and food coloring in order to earn such a touristy name and jacked-up price?"
"Ni shi sha gua, Doc, ain‘t you ever just had a good time?" Jayne spat, elbowing past and careening off into the bar.
Kaylee looked up at Simon and he smiled, cutting her off at the apology. "It’s okay," he said. "It’s what Jayne and I do instead of sniffing each other’s asses."
*
And for fun, inalasahl's beginning:
This time when they picked up the mail there were no dead bodies, yet the postmaster was obviously still eager to see the back of them. It had been almost two weeks since they'd been off ship and no one wanted to head back right away.
"We got time to look around, don't we?" Kaylee asked Mal.
"Yeah," he said. He was still looking at the postmaster who kept glancing at them nervously. "How about we all stop for a drink?" Mal suggested. Everyone quickly agreed. Simon could see the disappointment on Kaylee's face and found it hard to stifle a groan. He never should have asked her out last time they'd stopped here. Most of the time he liked hanging out with Kaylee. She was becoming one of the best friends he'd ever had, but sometimes she could be overbearing.
Simon watched as Kaylee struggled for a moment, her inherently sunny nature finally winning out. "They make the best Moonrise Duststorms here," she told Simon as she took his hand. "You've got to try one." Simon smiled down at her. He wished he knew what was wrong with him. She was pretty and nice, and he got along better with her than he had with anyone other than River, but he felt only a slight warmth with her palm wrapped around his.
*Whump.* Jayne's solid mass caromed into Simon from behind, sending the shorter man stumbling. Simon turned in confusion. Jayne clutched a letter in his hand. He must have been reading it rather than paying attention to where he was walking. Jayne looked as startled as Simon, windmilling backwards to put distance between the two of them again and refusing to meet Simon's eyes. Simon sighed. No one had noticed yet, but it was only a matter of time. Things hadn't been the same between the two of them since the Lassiter job. It wouldn't be too long before someone noticed that Jayne, who had always been so eager to harass Simon in the past, had started ignoring him. When Simon had first realized it he'd been relieved, but he was starting to find it annoying. Simon didn't know what to do about it. He didn't even know that he wanted to. It still made him sick to think of what could have happened on Ariel. He still spent too many nights worrying whether River was safe on this ship after all. He turned back away from Jayne without saying anything.
[Read the rest of Inalasahl's "Reconcilation" HERE]
Read the rest of my remix...someday. *g*
Three more hours.
Damn you, big purple book.