The fair began! Am butt tired, oddly enough, though other than sitting on the heater Turkish-style and freezing my proverbial testicles off, there really isn't anything strenuous to do. Basically it's just the super cute festive season, super cute little green cottage, a bunch of friends, cool chats, cool tea and coffee and cookies, even some selling to be done. Alas (it's 2am and it's -17°C now...) it can get so cold one could eat forty pancakes and still lose weight from trying to keep warm. I'm wearing so much practical clothing that even when I am wearing sexy lingerie, there's still thing-high wool army socks and an ugly fat winter undershirt underneath it :P

Though I did feel so good at some point (selling my first card to the pair of rich Russians! :D) that I actually wrote a poem  :D  It's crappy, of course, Keats me be not, but it's the principle of the thing!! :P

X-mass set-up and zombie dreams

The X-mass fair begins today and I seem to be a little bit nervous, because I've been scratching the inside of my left elbow - something I do until it starts to hurt - but i do not realize it until it does hurt.. But we've been setting stuff up yesterday and as far as outdoors goes, it's been one of my favorite December days so far.

     Okay, so maybe I do miss the company of people, not all of whom are entirely chosen. Having close friends is a balm, but meeting folk that doesn't seem to want to bother me is also kind of neat. I forget that sometimes. Though time will tell how spot on my radars are. We set up the stuff for two of the wee cottages (both green! yahh!!) and today we'll set the stuff on display and officially start selling it. I wonder if I'll sell anything. Ah, well. No idea if it'll be devastatingly dull and freezing or time will fly and it'll be exciting. But I better make sure the weather is in our favor, because it would just suck if all tho weeks weren't super x-massy-sunny!

      As part of my nervousness, I woke up at 3am today (okay, I actually do that every night, but this time I couldn't go play warcraft, because I needed my beauty sleep.) and it took me an hour to fall back asleep. Then I had some really cool dreams about zombies. three consecutive ones - three consecutive movie sets, in act. The first one was kind of like The Walking Dead and a bunch of us was driving someplace that we assumed was safer. Dunno, some kind of old industry on some hill or something. The General was still in the dream with me, but we got separated. It was night-time. Our car hit some sort of an animal, some large white dog or something,  or the carcass of it already, and we needed to pause. But as soon as we got out of the car, we were followed by a hunting party of hillbillies that were out for food. They mainly looked like the scurvy cast of True Blood's meth family. They were dirty, very thin and mostly quite anemic. They saw the dog (I was hiding in the nettly ditch that General pulled me down into just in time - directly under the dog.) They gutted the dog and put the intestines away, of course directly on me - though that wasn't quite as bad as I would have feared. But because of it, they found me. For a moment the jury was out whether I would be a better meal than the dog.

       They took me to their place and the son of them wanted to take my blood. He was going to use a needle that was almost definitely twice the size of my vain and had no idea how to do it. I tried to show him and do it myself, but he lost interest half the way. We kind of laid down on his bed, which was so worn out that the fabrics of the mattress were tearing if I put too much pressure on one point and he got upset over it. His mother, probably about ten years older than him, wasn't so happy that he was making friends with food, but she didn't have the upper hand on decision making in the house, men did. 

        Then we went someplace. Again, on top of some hill. We got swarmed first by some zombies and then by more - and I didn't have any weapon and didn't run quite as fast to make it count. It was downhill over tiny sideways and neat by-ways, but it was hard going. I fell behind and my new-found meth-head family didn't wait for me - in fact they abandoned me with little emotion. They probably saw me as a decoy bait. I kept thinking that kicking zombies in the face was probably the most effective way to put them off, but they had the upper ground, I am no Mila Jovovich and they didn't quite as insistently fall back on iron railings as I had hoped. Plus there was the constant threat of being scratched - and bitten, if i happened to get my foot stuck in their teeth.

      Another night came. Fucking winters. I remembered an estate I saw in the middle of town, that was mildly secure with a large, lit mansion in the middle, but more importantly: a very large fence around a very large pool in the middle of which (and it was an elaborate, half swimming, half decorative, modern-like-swamp pool), was a half finished villa. I climbed the large fence to meet with eight fat dobermans - I had met them before and six of them were perfectly ready to be tickled behind their ears. Two were giving me trouble, but I think the other six ate them in turn. I jumped across the pool decor and made it to the house. This house was single-handed built by an old Michael Ironside-like guy, frustrated by his marriage (I could hear his wife across the entire estate) and somewhat willing to host me. There was sex involved here also, but as per usual, the damn zombies interrupted us here also. They followed the lights and the wife's annoying voice and were beginning to round the estate. Although the rich guy had supplies for a couple of weeks while he was building his getaway, they were running out. What we really needed, were some hand grenades.

OF COURSE the one time I go out without a camera, there is absolute clarity of the city sky and the shiny sparkly wonder of the decoration - and the waiter brings me the whitest ever cappuccino foam in a pristine white cup, highlighting the flawless brown caramel ring of the brim. Typical. Lesson learned. 

          Also had a curious conversation with a lady who wants to put up my show. If anything becomes of it, it may be an excellent opportunity to show off again :)) (I've had time to forget about the expo pains like people forget labor.)

I have changed the pivotal scene in the compendium short story to Hearsay fifty-seven times. It has gone from the first time the young Seti Sepp and the darling Messenger meet that had no communication between them, to having sex, back again, to touching and talking only once, or maybe a couple of times briefly. It is giving me a headache. Even though this story can stand alone and Hearsay as a book can stand without it, I've always liked this chapter, because it is a little bit more naturalistic and linear and personal than the rest of the book. In this story, which actually takes place only weeks after the Messengers first arrive to Samudra, in the year 3007 or so, and Seti Sepp is just a zealot young SUN graduate, running errands to prove himself. Coincidentally the ship they are both on crashes and events follow so that at some point they are sitting next to one another and thinking it's okay to be alive, but it would be okay to just (finally) die, also. In that scene is later decided the whole relationship that brings about the end of City of Startracker: why did young Sepp decide to hate and hunt down other Literates so personally, and why did Paper always feel like she fucked up before she even started her job. A simple scene, one that both could be without and lives would be easier, but one that did happen and did draw attention and did ultimately make such a big mess of things. I have re-done that scene more often than I can recall lately. I go to the bathroom and think of a new word to replace the old one... Seriously. I feel like a NASA engineer.

Have downloaded the entire 300 episodes of Bleach.. again. It was like solving some gorram mystery, considering they are all over the place and the arcs are entirely unrelated to the chapters, so following them as a whole is a mess. It inspired me to try and paint a comic book, though of course I am nowhere near disciplined enough to do anything of the sort. Perhaps a very small one? As a homework thingie? I like homeworks. I always steal other people's ideas for them. Drejč needed to write a letter-short-story for her recent task. Unfortunately, I cannot bring myself to do that one... My entire first marriage was one long necklace of tiny letter-short-stories, each more desperate and pathetic than the next and then the suicide note. And then the sms after-suicide, saying simply: Amazing. 

        That should have been the end of that, no?

       Anyways, not that I even now understand what a Shinigami is (alive? dead? Twice dead? In the inbetween?), I am somehow warm inside from thinking they are around us and have been neglecting my glorious 'story shepherd' way too long to boot. It should keep me happy for the next four days, while I gather the goodies for the fair. No idea how I feel about that either. I suppose I should be optimistic, but I'm too old to be an optimist. Heck, I'm too old to be an anarchist communist. I'll just remain a fantasist, then, and leave the dog to bark at falling snowflakes. 

       The day outside is more brilliant than I've had in a week, but it is too ridiculously cold for me to consider taking the advantage of it and go for a stroll. No fucking way. 

        My three remaining tasks for this year (the year, that, of course for me ends at March 11th), are: publishing of at least one of the damn books that have been burning my fingertips with neglect for the past three quarters of a year..., making money with the photographs (certainly a summer profession), getting the rooms rented and... okay, perhaps not learning to multitask but certainly learning how to keep a schedule. Winter writing and editing and drawing, summer photographing, traveling and inventing?... 

       Hehe, yeah, right. Like I posses the ounce of that sort of discipline.

       I am the ranger of chaos. You don't believe me, just read this blog :P

Following another of my darling Zem's hints, I came across another good artist. (Again makes me wish I was a painter, but with all that's been going on recently, I am going to be a writer first.)
    The name is Justin Sweet. He's the kid that drew my Drows :P

I finally figured it out: about a month ago somebody posted on the Facebook wall, if we could be anybody, anybody at all, who would we be for 24 hr..? Seriously, there wasn't a single thing I would want to be other than myself. But what sort of imagination am I supposed to have if I am not able to answer such a foolish inquiry? 

         So I got creative... Certainly not God. He has too many problems. Cleopatra, maybe, on one of her glorious days. Or Hadrian. Or Aristotle, staring up at the Greek night sky... But all these are just romantic, I doubt that within their heads, I would find anything so overwhelming that such an opportunity would have me fully satisfied. I needed to go deeper. Marie Antoinette, maybe, or Anne Boleyn... Or Gandalf. I wouldn't want to be someone really evil or destructive, because they don't really have much fun and are often quite in pain during. I wouldn't want to be anyone nervous, or unhappy. Perhaps a Geisha, but just one day might have been boring. Who, who indeed, so that I would live a life entirely like the one I have now - and better?

      It was a conundrum to say the least. The worst of  riddles. 

But I am hyper hormonal and have been reading a shitload of my own porn and then it finally hit me: if i could be ANYONE, anyone at all, I would only want to be the girlfriend of Urahara Kisuke on a very happy day - on a day we have sex at least five times, we bake at least ten cakes and we save the world at least twice. It's not just the man I can't get enough of, cause him I never could, but also the world he represents. That was the question in the first place, wasn't it? It wasn't about the costume, it was about the sensation and I have all  the sensations I want in this life, so this is the only choice I could come up with that would be exactly like my life, only really really high-lit.

:D

Everything these days is about sex. I am so hyped up on the hormones, I've read through two of my adventure tales and only noticed how erotic they are. I am horny ALL the time. Like a maniac, all I do is flirt and harass the General. I am also having the appetite of a horse, it's absurd how much I am capable of eating. And I've had my first wet dreams in ages. (I was a very rich and very hedonistic Nicole Kidman, riding around an old Italian town on a vespa. Between the juicy galleries and the General behind me... well, for as strange the sensation was, it was ultimatelly very rewarding indeed.)  My breasts are like rocks and it hurts just to put a bra on. Then again I think I've bleed everything I was meant to bleed in the past two years and kind of slacked, in these past five weeks, so... I didn't know someone can lose this amount of blood and feel good about it. Doctor said I am finally experiencing what every woman goes through every month. Can't say I am looking forward to the next month....