I organized my desk - meaning, really, I did nothing at all, because all the mess is not on my bedside table. But I did throw a few things away, and the desk looks better, which might help me feel better, emotionally. It actually is a lot cleaner, in fact, because while I had everything off it I wiped it down and came up with a black paper towel, so maybe this will help me feel better physically, as well. :P (have had a slightly sore throat forever, but in the past week it got worse, I think because I got myself so run down.)
I balanced my checkbook and wrote out the rent check and my credit card payment, and moved some money to my savings account.
Also wrote some vapid ramblings on a card for
bravecows. I desperately wish they could have been something terribly witty and wise, but I just don't have it in me at the moment, so I just filled up the back so I could send you the picture.
I did not, however, pick up my next month's birth control patches. I'll have to somehow fit that in tomorrow morning.
I did some dishes, but of course created others. I tried to be conservative, and ate leftover pizza for breakfast, but that still meant a plate and a pan (I heated it in the oven because I thought it would taste better. It probably did. I'd hate to have eaten that stuff microwaved.)
I'm not going to work eleven hour days all this week, just Tues/Wed/Thurs. Today
eor needs the car, and Friday I'm going to the book club breakfast. I wonder if we'll be able to look the waiter in the face and admit we didn't like the book he suggested? It's over-the-top in a way that would be camp if it had a sense of humor about itself, but it doesn't. The hitchhiking boy, in quick succession, is running into every stereotype of the worst, most horrible, people you ever imagined a hitchhiking kid might possibly run into - the pervert psycho Christian fanatic, the druggy motorcyclist, and now he's just spotted The Black Van ('Dnn-dnn-DNNNNN!' as
camwyn might say). The bartender Vampire wanders into a random (to him) hick town (where he's destined to meet the hitchhiking boy, who he delivered and left on a doorstep fifteen years before, just to make it that much more over the top) and the first person he speaks to is a profoundly retarded girl swinging a dead rat.
Interestingly, to me, one of my fellow book-club-members says she asked her son, who is a writer, if he likes Poppy Z. Brite and he loves her, and he has to go lie down after reading one of her books. It strikes me that, if beauty is a series of successfully strung together cliches, then she's gorgeous. (Which I think is a bad paraphrase of a line from The Great Gatsby which Mr. Pink quotes every now and then.
oh crap - leaving in 20 min, must shower.
I balanced my checkbook and wrote out the rent check and my credit card payment, and moved some money to my savings account.
Also wrote some vapid ramblings on a card for
I did not, however, pick up my next month's birth control patches. I'll have to somehow fit that in tomorrow morning.
I did some dishes, but of course created others. I tried to be conservative, and ate leftover pizza for breakfast, but that still meant a plate and a pan (I heated it in the oven because I thought it would taste better. It probably did. I'd hate to have eaten that stuff microwaved.)
I'm not going to work eleven hour days all this week, just Tues/Wed/Thurs. Today
Interestingly, to me, one of my fellow book-club-members says she asked her son, who is a writer, if he likes Poppy Z. Brite and he loves her, and he has to go lie down after reading one of her books. It strikes me that, if beauty is a series of successfully strung together cliches, then she's gorgeous. (Which I think is a bad paraphrase of a line from The Great Gatsby which Mr. Pink quotes every now and then.
oh crap - leaving in 20 min, must shower.
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And then I read this one novella by her, and it's essentially thinly disguised John Lennon/Paul McCartney (she fessed up in the end notes, not that you wouldn't have been able to tell, from both the story and the illustrations). Not only did that make me go "ew" (publishing slash about a living person just strikes me as being in ill-taste), but she basically was saying that George and Ringo were worthless to the band. So then I want, "OH NO YOU DIDN'T" and have refused to read a book by here ever since, the end.
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A) So then I want, "OH NO YOU DIDN'T" and have refused to read a book by here ever since, the end.
You crack me up. :) I doubt I'll ever read another story by her. I did read that fantasy she wrote about her with Matt Stone and Trey Parker which Peak directed me to. It wasn't my kind of thing, I didn't think it was well written and I just kind of stared after it was over with a sort of "huh?" expression.
B) But then again, in this one you find out that ______________________. (I can't remember if you find out that detail in the beginning or not.)
I's confused.
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I'm sorry; there was a spoiler I wasn't sure you'd gotten to yet in Lost Souls. Are you finished with it?
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