ewww.

07.13.05 @ 8:59 p.m.

Is... is this what I think it is?

She moved toward him, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.

Voldemort is looking through Harry's eyes at Umbridge and getting turned on?

Squicked. Just completely squicked.

i haven't done a bit of homework all day, either

07.11.05 @ 10:53 p.m.

I made a fantastic Maximum R & B magnet out of a big square pest control company magnet that was glued to the front of the new phone book. When it's less sticky (covered in decoupage medium) I'll scan it or something.

I'm rereading Harry Potter 5 in vague preparation for the next (and also, a chat with Amy reminded me that I barely remember anything that happened in that massive book, unsurprising since I read it in a couple of days) and something within the first few chapters amuses me. Mrs. Weasley says the curtains are infested with doxies. In Regency slang, a doxy is a wealthy man's mistress, a moderately classy whore, a woman who exchanges sex and affection for rent and gifts. Considering how much time my head spends in the Regency, you can imagine what my first mental image was.

I drove behind a Subaru Brat today. If you are familiar with Achewood, you'd know why that made me laugh when I realized it.

AND: I was urged toward grad school yet again. I took the later bus to sleep in a bit, the bus that gets me to school at about 11:58 for my noon class, and even had time to buy a muffin and tea to sustain me through the day, and still nearly beat Wojcik to class. He accused me of having figured out his schedule, because he's always late to class. Always. I'm actually usually there five to ten minutes before noon. It was pretty funny, though he seems to be concerned that I've taken rather a lot of FLR classes. It didn't seem like that many until I said "three... wait, four." For something outside my discipline, yeah, that might be a lot, though at least one of those WAS for my major requirements.

AND AND: I got 100% on my Sometimes a Great Notion test and was a bit embarrassed that the teacher told the WHOLE GODDAMN CLASS. We were going over the answers, and he asked how many people got #22 right. I was the only person who raised my hand (WTF, people, it was not a hard question at all) and that's when Prof. Tommy Chong said I got 100. Which is also a big WTF in itself, as I completely skipped a goddamn question. I think it must have been curved. And one set of questions had a pair of exclamation points next to the score. Jesus. It wasn't hard, except identifying "Hank's matchmaker" and that was found via elimination.

Well, whatever. It balances the horrendous 62% on my One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest test.

wishing furthur would drive off a fucking cliff

07.10.05 @ 7:26 p.m.

More and more, I'm thinking of switching to livejournal or just discontinuing my internet presence in blog form. I like my actual book diary a lot more, and I don't feel at all inhibited there. I used to not feel inhibited here, but... well, there's nothing much to talk about, either.

I had a whole thing I was going to write about today, mostly about how I FUCKING HATE TOM WOLFE and the pretentiousness that is so irritating when it comes to writing about psychedelia. "Oh god, LSD, it's so great, but you can't even begin to know what I'm talking about if you having taken it, you fucking square, now here is a casual racial epithet EIGHT THOUSAND TIMES PER PAGE and OH FUCK KEN KESEY IS A GOD." Fucking Tom Wolfe! I HATE YOU. HATE.

And really, there's only so much of the history of the Merry Pranksters you can read before it gets really fucking tedious. "And then they did a WACKY THING and FREAKED OUT THE SQUARES and OMG DAY-GLO PAINT." Lather, rinse, repeat. Until you fucking want to kill yourself after a mere 200 pages out of 400.

I'm also in a little bit of a panic re: grad school. Mostly re: letters of recommendation. I think I can get one out of my folklore prof; I sent him an email packed with links to haunted things on eBay and he replied with "You're a natural born folklorist" (<3!!! This makes me unspeakably happy) "and should seriously consider graduate school." Folklore makes me the happiest out of anything. As I said to Glenn, it's like getting a degree in god damn people watching.

NOTE: All the angry might be due to hormones. I did spend like, half an hour crying for no reason this morning.

d'oh

07.06.05 @ 12:02 a.m.

So of course I found Chinese Eyes as soon as I wrote that. Of course.

Nothing is happening in my life. I love and hate Ken Kesey. I think I'm going to try to write a huge long paper comparing Sometimes a Great Notion and Paradise Lost.

You know, I've pissed away an hour. I just wanted to listen to an hour of Rick Emerson. I'm going to run out of old Emerson shows at this rate. Today in the car, somewhere south of Salem, I was laughing so hard that I was beginning to worry about the quality of my driving. It was a thing about some morons giving a birthday party for their chimpanzee that they had to give to a sanctuary after it bit a lady's finger off. So at the party, two other chimps got loose and mauled the fuck out of a guy who was at the birthday party. It doesn't sound hilarious, necessarily, but oh my lord, it was so funny this morning.

you make me feel like i don't care (except... i do, i do care, excessively)

07.05.05 @ 11:58 p.m.

ARRRGHGHGHG I cannot find my copy of All The Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes. The last place I remember seeing it was on my kitchen table when I was making the mix for the Dumbrella CD swap. I think I moved it since then, but it isn't on the table and it isn't in any of the normal CD places and I AM GOING CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY.

slow drag

07.03.05 @ 1:26 a.m.

I'd post more if anything even remotely interesting was happening in my life. I'm home again, hanging out with my dog, trying to read a fuckton of Kesey and hating that class, and I got a new story idea this morning. I'm really pleased with it, but it isn't a standard Regency. I'm setting in in that period because it makes a few things easier, mainly the presence of a female character as the sister of the hero's friend present at a house party.

Two more weeks of school, then I start moving my crap out of Eugene and trying desperately to find somewhere to keep it here. Two more weeks of insufferable torture at the hands of Ken Kesey (fuck I hate this class.) Two more weeks of suffering the pretentious fucks in my Kesey group... "Oh, he's becoming my favorite author!" I am getting to the point where I have no fucking patience with English majors. I cling to the Folklore class. Yes, the people in there are fuckwitted, too, but that fuckwittery isn't as painful.

<<>>

Previously

fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
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