What Was Your PastLife?
A NUN?! Was I bollocks.
Saturday, August 24, 2002
From Betty Woo (currently woozilla!)'s LiveJournal
"I think the Gothic Short Bus stopped here tonight."
I have got to remember that one.
"I think the Gothic Short Bus stopped here tonight."
I have got to remember that one.
Friday, August 23, 2002
Can you see my sidebar?
Apparently some folk with Netscape 6 are having probs viewing this page. If it looks odd to you, would you be a love and email me? Ta.
Apparently some folk with Netscape 6 are having probs viewing this page. If it looks odd to you, would you be a love and email me? Ta.
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
Oh, yeah...
For those of you messed up in the head enough to care: my putative novel is a fantasy yarn, but with this, like, rilly rilly feminist angle, yeah? It's got this rilly rilly strong female lead. She won't let you touch her tits with your claw unless you give her a magic sword first. So there.
For those of you messed up in the head enough to care: my putative novel is a fantasy yarn, but with this, like, rilly rilly feminist angle, yeah? It's got this rilly rilly strong female lead. She won't let you touch her tits with your claw unless you give her a magic sword first. So there.
The oncoming train
I have got to stop messing about and get some serious writing done. Partly this is due to the fact that if I don't I'm going to rupture something, but I have to confess that a lot of my current drive is down to the fact that I cannot carry on in my current existance much longer before I start wearing my knickers on my head and talking to a luminous orange pixie called Mildred.
I know, I know-- I shouldn't complain so much. It could be (and has been) a hell of a lot worse. But, dear morons, I spent seven-and-three-quarter hours today in an underventilated work space with not enough chairs, putting bloody silver pendants onto bloody plastic cards. I must have done about five thousand of those suckers. And then there's the flat; I like it here, but the place is falling down around my ears. The latest disaster is the bathroom ceiling: it's riddled with dry rot and will need to be ripped out and replaced. I mean, there is scaffolding in my bathroom that is holding up the ceiling.
This unnerves me somewhat.
Typical of these Victorian terraces-- oh, sure, they look picturesque, but the renovation is a nightmare. My landlord is a great bloke but he gets all the repairs done on the cheap, which means that nothing ever stays repaired for long. I don't know what the hell's going to happen if me and Mandy have to vacate while the work's being done. I'm just sick to death of the cheap rented places that I've lived in ever since I left home. I'm sick of the insecurity, I'm sick of the half-baked repair work, I'm sick of it all.
It's time I got myself dug in behind the keyboard to get some serious work done. I'm still tweaking a couple of articles that have, to all intents and purposes, been finished for weeks-- I just can't bear to stop fiddling with them and punt them out. That kind of thing has to stop. On the plus side, I finally bit the bullet and started work on a novel that I've been laying groundwork for over the last few months. It's going to be hard work, but potentially it is a very strong story.
Since all my other avenues have been cut off, I must get my writing career underway. I must get out of this life, or at least have some hope that I might get out of it one day. I need a to see a light at the end of this tunnel. Even an orange one called Mildred.
I have got to stop messing about and get some serious writing done. Partly this is due to the fact that if I don't I'm going to rupture something, but I have to confess that a lot of my current drive is down to the fact that I cannot carry on in my current existance much longer before I start wearing my knickers on my head and talking to a luminous orange pixie called Mildred.
I know, I know-- I shouldn't complain so much. It could be (and has been) a hell of a lot worse. But, dear morons, I spent seven-and-three-quarter hours today in an underventilated work space with not enough chairs, putting bloody silver pendants onto bloody plastic cards. I must have done about five thousand of those suckers. And then there's the flat; I like it here, but the place is falling down around my ears. The latest disaster is the bathroom ceiling: it's riddled with dry rot and will need to be ripped out and replaced. I mean, there is scaffolding in my bathroom that is holding up the ceiling.
This unnerves me somewhat.
Typical of these Victorian terraces-- oh, sure, they look picturesque, but the renovation is a nightmare. My landlord is a great bloke but he gets all the repairs done on the cheap, which means that nothing ever stays repaired for long. I don't know what the hell's going to happen if me and Mandy have to vacate while the work's being done. I'm just sick to death of the cheap rented places that I've lived in ever since I left home. I'm sick of the insecurity, I'm sick of the half-baked repair work, I'm sick of it all.
It's time I got myself dug in behind the keyboard to get some serious work done. I'm still tweaking a couple of articles that have, to all intents and purposes, been finished for weeks-- I just can't bear to stop fiddling with them and punt them out. That kind of thing has to stop. On the plus side, I finally bit the bullet and started work on a novel that I've been laying groundwork for over the last few months. It's going to be hard work, but potentially it is a very strong story.
Since all my other avenues have been cut off, I must get my writing career underway. I must get out of this life, or at least have some hope that I might get out of it one day. I need a to see a light at the end of this tunnel. Even an orange one called Mildred.
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Sunday, August 18, 2002
Figgy Rolls.
21st Century Fig Fest
So you like figgy rolls, yes? But deep within your being you sense that there may be unexplored regions of figgyness, hitherto undreampt of combinations of pastry and fig? Wonder no more, for the good folk of nicecupofteaandasitdown.com have sought out new figilizations, and boldly gone where no interweb site has gone before (well, France anyway ). Figtastic!
Asda! Sainsbury's! Jacobs! Figolu! Newton! Crawfords! Figgy rolls, head to head. Who shall triumph as the most figolicious?
21st Century Fig Fest
So you like figgy rolls, yes? But deep within your being you sense that there may be unexplored regions of figgyness, hitherto undreampt of combinations of pastry and fig? Wonder no more, for the good folk of nicecupofteaandasitdown.com have sought out new figilizations, and boldly gone where no interweb site has gone before (well, France anyway ). Figtastic!
Asda! Sainsbury's! Jacobs! Figolu! Newton! Crawfords! Figgy rolls, head to head. Who shall triumph as the most figolicious?
Saturday, August 17, 2002
No!
FFS, Mordant, don't click on that link. You've just seen a lengthy quote from the site, and it's obviously going to more of the same homophobic, misogynistic, all-around-bigoted drooling from beginning to end.
Don't click on the link. You know the site is just going to piss you off, make your blood boil for hours afterwards. Go and look at B3TA, or something. They will have some funny kittens.
Don't click on the link.
Profitable Doctrines in God's Word.
GODDAMMIT! You clicked the link! Now you're going to be in a perfectly foul mood all day.
FFS, Mordant, don't click on that link. You've just seen a lengthy quote from the site, and it's obviously going to more of the same homophobic, misogynistic, all-around-bigoted drooling from beginning to end.
Don't click on the link. You know the site is just going to piss you off, make your blood boil for hours afterwards. Go and look at B3TA, or something. They will have some funny kittens.
Don't click on the link.
Profitable Doctrines in God's Word.
GODDAMMIT! You clicked the link! Now you're going to be in a perfectly foul mood all day.
Oh, for God's sake.
Are you guys back again? How many times do I have to tell you: Stop reading this site. Stop it. Now. Point the mousey pointer at one of the links on the sidebar; a news resource, perhaps, or the New Scientist. For crying out loud, go anywhere-- just elevate your sights! Inform yourselves! I know, it's hard work at first: reading stuff that actually forces you to engage your brain, rather than allowing you to soak up the words without ever actually having to think too hard about what they mean, but it'll be worth it in the long run. Maybe you might actually learn something. Maybe you might just find yourself questioning some of those cherished prejudices that you clasp to your bosom like wrinkly grey goblin fetuses. Maybe you'll be inspired by new and mindbending concepts, your jaded soul refreshed by the glory and granduer of the Universe.
I notice you're still here.
Are you guys back again? How many times do I have to tell you: Stop reading this site. Stop it. Now. Point the mousey pointer at one of the links on the sidebar; a news resource, perhaps, or the New Scientist. For crying out loud, go anywhere-- just elevate your sights! Inform yourselves! I know, it's hard work at first: reading stuff that actually forces you to engage your brain, rather than allowing you to soak up the words without ever actually having to think too hard about what they mean, but it'll be worth it in the long run. Maybe you might actually learn something. Maybe you might just find yourself questioning some of those cherished prejudices that you clasp to your bosom like wrinkly grey goblin fetuses. Maybe you'll be inspired by new and mindbending concepts, your jaded soul refreshed by the glory and granduer of the Universe.
I notice you're still here.
Thursday, August 15, 2002
Godzilla v Davezilla: When Copywrite Holders Attack
(From the Barbelith Underground, via fridgemagnet, via Tony.)
Hence the temporary namechange, folks. Go now and do ye likewise.
Hey... what's that noise in the distance?
Uh, oh. Sounds like it's coming this way...
Sounds like...
Sounds like....
GIANT FOOTSTEPS!
(Yeah, why not get the Blue Oyster Cult's lawyers on my case while I'm at it?)
(From the Barbelith Underground, via fridgemagnet, via Tony.)
Hence the temporary namechange, folks. Go now and do ye likewise.
Hey... what's that noise in the distance?
Uh, oh. Sounds like it's coming this way...
Sounds like...
Sounds like....
GIANT FOOTSTEPS!
(Yeah, why not get the Blue Oyster Cult's lawyers on my case while I'm at it?)
ThinkGeek :: Shower Shock Caffeinated Soap
According to the blurb, this is "a gently envigorating soap" (sic). You absorb the caffine through your skin. It smells of peppermint, too.
Now you know what to buy me next Christmas, don't you?
According to the blurb, this is "a gently envigorating soap" (sic). You absorb the caffine through your skin. It smells of peppermint, too.
Now you know what to buy me next Christmas, don't you?
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
S.N.A.F.U.
Okay, the bad news is that I had a fit this morning and had to miss work. First time in ages that's happened. I don't think it's very significant-- I've come down with a rather nasty bug and my sleep patterns have been odd, which probably accounts for it. The good news is that I didn't lose the booking, which would have sucked.
Meant to finish polishing my housing article today, but I was too tired and out of it. I'll definately do it tomoz. Maybe google up the figures I need in the morning, make a few corrections over lunch, type the sucker up when I get home... Yeah, that sounds doable. Then I'll FINALLY have something meaty I can sling out to prospective employers.
Things have been a little dry on the story front for some reason. Well, actually I do know the reason, but I don't like fessing up to it: my creative side is suffering because I've been a bad wee chaoette, and I've been letting my magick homework pile up a bit. No psyballs for a few days, and I've been neglecting my dream diary. This must and shall be rectified.
I plan to start configuring a new sub-personality soon, a sort of hero figure. I'll be needing it over the next few months.
Okay, the bad news is that I had a fit this morning and had to miss work. First time in ages that's happened. I don't think it's very significant-- I've come down with a rather nasty bug and my sleep patterns have been odd, which probably accounts for it. The good news is that I didn't lose the booking, which would have sucked.
Meant to finish polishing my housing article today, but I was too tired and out of it. I'll definately do it tomoz. Maybe google up the figures I need in the morning, make a few corrections over lunch, type the sucker up when I get home... Yeah, that sounds doable. Then I'll FINALLY have something meaty I can sling out to prospective employers.
Things have been a little dry on the story front for some reason. Well, actually I do know the reason, but I don't like fessing up to it: my creative side is suffering because I've been a bad wee chaoette, and I've been letting my magick homework pile up a bit. No psyballs for a few days, and I've been neglecting my dream diary. This must and shall be rectified.
I plan to start configuring a new sub-personality soon, a sort of hero figure. I'll be needing it over the next few months.
Monday, August 12, 2002
Tales of the Plush Cthulhu
(Spirited away in the loathsome light of a gibbous moon from the blasphemous depths ofYou May Like This.)
(Spirited away in the loathsome light of a gibbous moon from the blasphemous depths ofYou May Like This.)
Weblogger In "Having a Social Life" Shock
Had a fairly hectic weekend-- pubbing and clubbing on Fri. with a Mandy and a few of my mukkers, then boozing on Sun. at fridgemagnet's farewell bash, bitchiekittie having lured him Stateside with her feminine wiles. I wish them both well. (No, I'm not going soft-- I still hate you.)
I'd recovered enough to start my new temp booking today. I spent the entire day putting earrings in ickle pickle plakky bags, then put stickers on the front. All day. Earrings. Bags. Stickers. 9 to 5:30.
Still ain't got that regular column; an oversight, I'm sure, which will be rectified in due course. The Grauniad people must have been too busy scoring to contact me.
To those of you who've emailed me with tip-offs about writing gigs: Thanks. 'Preciated.
Everyone else: Gizza job?
Had a fairly hectic weekend-- pubbing and clubbing on Fri. with a Mandy and a few of my mukkers, then boozing on Sun. at fridgemagnet's farewell bash, bitchiekittie having lured him Stateside with her feminine wiles. I wish them both well. (No, I'm not going soft-- I still hate you.)
I'd recovered enough to start my new temp booking today. I spent the entire day putting earrings in ickle pickle plakky bags, then put stickers on the front. All day. Earrings. Bags. Stickers. 9 to 5:30.
Still ain't got that regular column; an oversight, I'm sure, which will be rectified in due course. The Grauniad people must have been too busy scoring to contact me.
To those of you who've emailed me with tip-offs about writing gigs: Thanks. 'Preciated.
Everyone else: Gizza job?
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