Ugh.
There is no winning in this business.
I can either write porn-for-pay, and get paid what amounts to $10-$20 an hour for stories that are a guaranteed sell but do not generally excite me or test my creativity; or I can write "real" erotica, entertain myself a little more, and make maybe half that, and maybe gain some respect, if my stories sell; or I can write swashbuckling adventure porn, get paid nothing, get no recognition, and enjoy myself immensely.
Hmmm. Which bug do I want to eat today? (No, there are no easy solutions to this problem. It's one'a them there "rat oracle" questions.)
Life stuff has been better, but my mental state is deteriorating like old oatmeal at the bottom of the last bowl in the sink. Yuck. Lack of sleep, Sargon's fuck-you work schedule, no transportation, and my inability to do anything other than sit here and wave my arms around because of my goddamn leg have all combined into a hellish, steaming gumbo of helplessness and resentment, seasoned with stifled rage.
As a stress-reliever, we went to see Fantastic Four on Saturday. Don't ask me to give a thoughtful review, I have no interest in arguing about whether it's good or not - I was entertained, and that was enough. Don't regret paying full price for it, anyway.
And can I just say that Jessica Alba is incredibly hot, even blonde? Michael Weatherly, if you are reading this, you are out of your mind. And I don't mean for reading this. I mean for letting her get away. Don't they have restraints on your planet? Jesus. Though I suppose I can't fault you for not wanting her back. She has slept with Marky Mark since she was with you, and Lord knows you wouldn't want to catch whatever HE had that made him so sucktacular back when he was trying to make music, and is still making him sucktacular now that he has a movie "career." If you can call a headlong plummet a career.
Anyway. Digression.
Jessica Alba = hot. Ioan Gruffudd as a geek = very cute. And with the little grey streaks they put in his hair, he was spanking Daddy/Teacher buttons I would rather the theater had not known I had. ("What are you doing with that yardstick? Oh no! I promise to do my math homework!") I'm still going to pass on the whole "stretchy" thing. That's just . . . oogy.
Anyway, what I wanted to talk about:
I'm sitting there watching the movie, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I have a panic attack. I mean that. Out of fucking nowhere. I was like "Oh, look, Jessica Alba has such beautiful lips! And the kid who plays Johnny Storm is pretty cute, too, even if he looks like a porn actor. Mmmmm . . . Ioan . . . OMGHOLYSHITWE'REALLGONNADIE! RUN AWAY!!! RUN NOW! RUN!!! RUNRUNRUNRUNRUN!!!!"
Stupidest Shit Ever, I tell you. So I sat on it, hard, and repeated this simple mantra: "I will not have a panic attack while I am looking at Jessica Alba."
And it worked.
It works the same way Mandy Moore music works. You just can't have a panic attack when you're thinking about something so fucking cute. For example. Look at that picture.
When I look at that, it knocks at least three points off my inner ennui scale. I go from Sisters of Mercy to Evanescence, and if I look at it again, I can hit Sarah Brightman from there, so it's not too bad.
Mandy Moore shoving a vanilla soft-serve ice cream cone at me. That has got to be one of my ultimate fantasies. Right next to the one with the . . . oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand.
I likewise feel stupid having a panic attack fraught with fear and drama during stupid movies like Knight's Tale or Sinbad. My pride won't allow it. For those of you who may wonder why Heath Ledger movies spent about two years cemented into my DVD player, that's why. That was when I was having these fucking things regularly. Like, sometimes twice a day for a couple of hours at a time. But while that movie was on, I was safe. Heath Ledger is like a big, dumb guardian angel for the part of me that likes to flip out like a rat in a cottonmouth cage for no damn good reason.
Thankfully, I only get that occasionally anymore. Once a month or once a week or so.
Hmm. Didn't mean to meander. I should probably prepare a post about what it's actually like to have to live with something like this, since a lot of people just don't seem to Get It.
I can either write porn-for-pay, and get paid what amounts to $10-$20 an hour for stories that are a guaranteed sell but do not generally excite me or test my creativity; or I can write "real" erotica, entertain myself a little more, and make maybe half that, and maybe gain some respect, if my stories sell; or I can write swashbuckling adventure porn, get paid nothing, get no recognition, and enjoy myself immensely.
Hmmm. Which bug do I want to eat today? (No, there are no easy solutions to this problem. It's one'a them there "rat oracle" questions.)
Life stuff has been better, but my mental state is deteriorating like old oatmeal at the bottom of the last bowl in the sink. Yuck. Lack of sleep, Sargon's fuck-you work schedule, no transportation, and my inability to do anything other than sit here and wave my arms around because of my goddamn leg have all combined into a hellish, steaming gumbo of helplessness and resentment, seasoned with stifled rage.
As a stress-reliever, we went to see Fantastic Four on Saturday. Don't ask me to give a thoughtful review, I have no interest in arguing about whether it's good or not - I was entertained, and that was enough. Don't regret paying full price for it, anyway.
And can I just say that Jessica Alba is incredibly hot, even blonde? Michael Weatherly, if you are reading this, you are out of your mind. And I don't mean for reading this. I mean for letting her get away. Don't they have restraints on your planet? Jesus. Though I suppose I can't fault you for not wanting her back. She has slept with Marky Mark since she was with you, and Lord knows you wouldn't want to catch whatever HE had that made him so sucktacular back when he was trying to make music, and is still making him sucktacular now that he has a movie "career." If you can call a headlong plummet a career.
Anyway. Digression.
Jessica Alba = hot. Ioan Gruffudd as a geek = very cute. And with the little grey streaks they put in his hair, he was spanking Daddy/Teacher buttons I would rather the theater had not known I had. ("What are you doing with that yardstick? Oh no! I promise to do my math homework!") I'm still going to pass on the whole "stretchy" thing. That's just . . . oogy.
Anyway, what I wanted to talk about:
I'm sitting there watching the movie, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I have a panic attack. I mean that. Out of fucking nowhere. I was like "Oh, look, Jessica Alba has such beautiful lips! And the kid who plays Johnny Storm is pretty cute, too, even if he looks like a porn actor. Mmmmm . . . Ioan . . . OMGHOLYSHITWE'REALLGONNADIE! RUN AWAY!!! RUN NOW! RUN!!! RUNRUNRUNRUNRUN!!!!"
Stupidest Shit Ever, I tell you. So I sat on it, hard, and repeated this simple mantra: "I will not have a panic attack while I am looking at Jessica Alba."
And it worked.
It works the same way Mandy Moore music works. You just can't have a panic attack when you're thinking about something so fucking cute. For example. Look at that picture.
When I look at that, it knocks at least three points off my inner ennui scale. I go from Sisters of Mercy to Evanescence, and if I look at it again, I can hit Sarah Brightman from there, so it's not too bad.
Mandy Moore shoving a vanilla soft-serve ice cream cone at me. That has got to be one of my ultimate fantasies. Right next to the one with the . . . oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand.
I likewise feel stupid having a panic attack fraught with fear and drama during stupid movies like Knight's Tale or Sinbad. My pride won't allow it. For those of you who may wonder why Heath Ledger movies spent about two years cemented into my DVD player, that's why. That was when I was having these fucking things regularly. Like, sometimes twice a day for a couple of hours at a time. But while that movie was on, I was safe. Heath Ledger is like a big, dumb guardian angel for the part of me that likes to flip out like a rat in a cottonmouth cage for no damn good reason.
Thankfully, I only get that occasionally anymore. Once a month or once a week or so.
Hmm. Didn't mean to meander. I should probably prepare a post about what it's actually like to have to live with something like this, since a lot of people just don't seem to Get It.