Ampersand

Also bought this. It's too cute :D Route 99 by Kyle Milne

My shy season is coming up. It's because the literary evenings are nearing. This is always the time I doubt my craft.Not my first rodeo – come the eve of battle, I remember I'm an egomaniac and that I actually love being in the centre of the stage and I start loving the audience again. :D

I do find it difficult to talk to people. And I've been doing this A LOT lately. “Ask him neatly what he thought of me?”.. This is so stupid and shy. But I really really want to know. Am I being normal enough? Am I doing a good job pretending I am a creature of coffee dates and volatile book talk? Fuck coffee, i want to take your naked portrait, man! ... I have a problem with people when they are just audience. I mean I want them. I like them. They prove me right. But the person behind the tools and machines is awkward and delicate. Social butterfly - or my sister, and this is still considered my highest compliment - I am not. 

I meet them, though. Such people. I am so in awe. I would want to keep them all. There was a guy today, that, in the eons before the General – whose intellect equally impresses and frightens me – would have been dearly in danger from being thrown on the cute bed in his cute house and shagged rotten - just so that I could leave him sleeping naked on his back and steal his books. Not those books, from the library. His books. I wouldn’t have to read them, but the memory of the warmth of his body being left behind would read them to me. So that when I would bury them, I would gain closer to the sort of mind that so seduces me. I am a thorough sucker for people who think reading is better than sex. I would wear a man to sleep and press him gently between the pages of the things that he was reading to me moments ago. I would keep them as my book markers.

But that’s where the paradox sharpens its axe. Such men have fractured, delicate souls. They represent erotic fantasies in my mental library, but not in daylight. They are gentle. They do not like the concept of angels having teeth. By the time anyone would straighten them into something bright and powerful, the relationship, even just physical, would be not even remotely fun. Dripping bile from a torn heart, I know this for an iron fact. I’ve bedded men whom I deemed giants and who under fifty-seven-hundred-fucking layers of skin, covered in ink, were lost and tiny.

It is not a coincidence that the man who caught me and has kept me is the one who never questioned the freak in me, not the other way around. 

I've translated this into another layer of skin on Gennonsuke (if I am to build him alongside the general.) from Goose. This is a hard draft. I haven't had the time to refine it yet. Running around. Plotting pancake coups.. :P

Unlike most men I gravitate towards (to which General sets the standard and nigh put a stop), even though – or because of – all had a lovers’ quarrel with fiction, Gennonsuke actually loves to read. In fact he sports a commitment to reading that I find humbling. Example. He never reads more than one book at a time. Magazines, forums don’t go there, but two books in one mindscape – he calls this vulgar. Thou shall not cheat on a book with another book. A poem, yes. A lesson, yes. Book, no. He means it, too. Another– and this I find particularly droll in an interstellar drug smuggler – the books to him are equally an addiction and a reward. “I have done good today. I’ve earned myself an extra five pages.” Because he rations the amount allowing him to consume, you see. Twenty a day is a lot. Five is a blatant tease. Now he loves books, printed on paper, that I have introduced them to him, because they come in different size and he can apply double standards to his own decree. He hates the idea of running out of a good fiction. Unlike alternating factual documents, once a fiction is finished, it is finished. That flavor no more. Regardless of the knowledge there are myriad. Finishing, losing a book represents to him a tiny heartbreak. I’d have kept Gennonsuke without knowing this, but upon learning it, I want to go back, meet him again and become lovers, only just for this undeniably endearing logic.

This shit happens to everyone, right? .... Right?

"Hello, excuse me, but you have been sending text messages to the wrong number for a while now. Just so you won't be waiting for Mr. HotStuff in vain. / No worries. It was quite amusing. Take care. T."

O.o





.....

No, but seriously.
O.o

Updating the theater screen :D

... Pretty impressive stuff, actually. My hands were shaking when I got to touch it :D
Here are some finished stuff documents:

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Here are the individual pickies, just for show..

True Detective

Watching the new (finally, fuck!) HBO crime, kind of like The Bridge, kind of like The Killing. Some of the same elements - one really odd, but ultimately central character, a really really impressive portrayal of the place where they're at, a big shuffle of who's bad, who's good and who's just vastly grey. I find the dialogue to be remarkable and the interaction between the two leads even more so. Gods, I hope this show doesn't go south the way the previous two did. Both aforementioned started so well, their pilots respectively, were amazing. The rest... not so much. But I was watching the Good Wife earlier, "We, the juries", laughing, now I saw this one. Yesterday I tried watching Helix, but that gave me nightmares and it wasn't really very intellectual. Perhaps Hannibal was this good, first seen. Lots of deep digging here, too. Anthropology, meth, infidelity, old shit improperly investigated, coming together, pieces of the puzzle fitting, when they shouldn't be... suspicion of protagonists actually being antagonists.. Excellent, excellent mess of things.
     I hate having to wait the whole week for the next episode. Why do I do this to myself? I always tell myself to wait until the season is over and then just see it all in one go. But noo.
     Pleasure delaying is a bitch.

Another ex in-law..

Well, this is getting stupid.. If some higher force is trying to prepare me for an impending encounter, all i have to say is… Get an update, force. No longer a deal. Today, I ran into my ex mother in law. I will explain why this is so … well… stupid. This lady hated me my entire marriage. When she learnt we got married, she wept into her daughter's room, saying she wants to die. She was very relieved when she found out we are getting a divorce. The weirdest thing is, every time she would see me in town later on, she would give me really dirty looks. At least… I thought she did.

                She caught me in the movie theater restroom today. I was just coming out and she was just coming in and for a very odd second my brain didn't connect – same as it didn't with greeting her spouse a few weeks back. I saw an old lady I vaguely recognized, but wasn't sure she was anyone important. She smells the same my ex did, though, so I tensed up and was about to leave with but a courtesy 'good evening'. But then *she* took another look and recognized me. Holy fuck! The amount of excited friendliness that woman struck me with all of the sudden?! We shook hands, she started asking me a million questions like we've been BFFs since we met! She's heard I wrote a book. Remarried. Am I working here now??!.. I almost told her about the kids. This went on for fifteen minutes. I told her to just go in, free of charge and she texted on her phone vehemently while I served other costumers. She made me write down the titles of all my books and we compared our taste in movies.. She promised to come back many, many times.

Seriously. WTF?

Dunno what to say to you, lady… You woke up one morning and realized I wasn't married by him out of pity, as you told people, after all?

A funny story

LoL: someone sent me a photo of my ex husband when he was young on my email this morning. Their email name was bogus, created especially for this occasion. No idea if the photo was even mine or someone completely else'. Doesn't look like mine. He was still a kid on it. But I say funny, because why anyone would bother to do that. I mean, to what end ? The mail didn't say anything. It was quite purposefully anonymous. If someone who mildly knows me would want to rattle me, they would probably get more rattle by sending me a photo of my dog or something. Then I'd feel odd. But if this is someone who doesn't know me and they just want to see my reaction... erm... That's a little late in the timeline. Like, five or six years late. What the fuck would I make of an old photo? It's a cute photo. He was in his pegs period. That's a good movie, on a poster behind him, too. But I didn't see it, cause it's a bit sad. Anyways. Odd people sending me odd emails, beware: there has to be a really clear message attached to it, a threat or a coffee invitation, because I am too dumb to interpret it otherwise.

Working again :D

On lying

After a coffee talk last night, I saw an interesting Greenland movie (having the balcony all to myself is the only way to fly!!!!) , but thorough the whole plot (maybe, because Greenlanders don’t seem to really use a lot of verbal communication), I kept thinking about what came up during the dialogue: why do people lie about themselves? Not TO themselves. About themselves.

I never got that.

Okay. I understand someone would lie about someone else. You know, weasely, conniving stuff to get yourself ahead. That’s just petty malice. It comes with the default of being a social human. Or why someone would lie at their job. Fuck it, just bullshit through it and take what you can get. Even I did that when they asked me if I can ride a moped. That wasn’t even a lie, it was a temporally dislodged information. I even think I understand why someone would want to keep certain things to themselves, intimate things, like health things or emotional stuff. It’s why the word ‘fine’ was globally adopted as a short version of ‘mind your own fucking business’.

But why would people lie about themselves?

Years later, I would learn from various new acquaintances my first husband did that. He lied all the time. It’s all he ever did, now that I put the pieces together. Not that it made a difference at the time. I just wouldn’t have guessed he felt the need for it. I thought he was kind of cool ... said she, before she ran into a closed door, banged her head and woke up. Not saying actual stuff – but lying to promote himself. And his mom, fuck, but I really don’t want to waste another drop of ink on that issue. My sister, as I notice, does the same. I mean, why would anyone need to lie about how much money they make or their work or their relationship? NOBODY I know right now makes a lot of money. Nobody I know has their dream job (that would actually pay more than a glorified hobby). Every relationships, from the best to the worst of marriages, have bile throw-ups from time to time, some of which I often find liberating to debate upon. If you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t bring it up. But inventing downright lies to make yourself seem … I d.... wha, worthy? Impressive? Interesting? I just don’t get it.

If you are ashamed of what you are or what you are doing it, then why do you do it? Why would you lie about not having a job? I don’t have a job. Doesn’t mean I don’t work. I try. I am grateful for every cent the General brings home to support my crazy earning pattern (sometimes nothing for a year, sometimes I take over the reins of the bread bringer, but these things you never can predict). Never in a million years would I be ashamed of being unemployed. Of whom I love. Of what my pet can or cannot do. Or lie about it. What the fuck would I say? What would impress strangers more than the truth?

Guess it’s a talent only true sociopath possess. The understanding of this particular conundrum.