failure to thrive
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "beatgeek" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
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10:31 am
[Link] | I have a sore throat. Baby Doe’s has ice cream. I need ice cream for my sore throat. I thought about this a bit and came up with a plan in which I would go to Baby Doe's and get some ice cream. It was quite a clever plan if I do say so myself.
So I go to Baby Doe's to get some ice cream, some nice plain, preferably vanilla ice cream. I do not want things in my ice cream. I do not want candy in it. I do not want cookies in it. I do not want cake dough in it, or kiwi fruit, or sausage, or automobile parts, I want some plain, ordinary, normal ice cream that has nothing in it except ice cream. And of this, of ice cream that is ice cream and nothing else, they have none. They do not carry ice cream for the sake of ice cream, in fact they seemed rather befuddled that I could possibly want such a thing. What I actually wanted was to start shouting at people but I refrained from doing so because a) even if I am rapidly becoming a grouchy old lady I can still try to hide it, and more importantly b) my throat’s sore. See above.
Tags: bad place, damn you kids get off my lawn, whining
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01:19 pm
[Link] |
WoW fic, again: Rain of Frogs
( Rain of Frogs )
Current Location: not in SSC
Current Mood: insufferable
Tags: fanfic, wow
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08:38 am
[Link] |
drawing from random photos on the internet ftl
( Three men. )
Tags: sketchbook
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09:13 am
[Link] |
livejournal.com/users/kaelthas01
Tags: fanfic, wow
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09:14 am
[Link] |
Post of generalized bitching
I.
"In Spotlight this week:
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) thinkpositive30
Every day for at least 30 days, come post a positive thought."
There is pretty much nothing I can say about this that could be any worse than the community description in and of itself.
II.
It has a Hunter's Mark on it. It is not yours. It is mine. That's my mark, that's my mob. MINE. NOT YOURS. Let’s go over this. It's marked, it's not yours. It's sheeped, it's not yours. It's slept or banished or trapped or shackled, NOT YOURS. DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU. DO NOT TOUCH IT. What part of this are you failing to understand here? Is there some sort of visual aid that would help explain it to you? Such as me coming over to your house with a rolling pin and smashing your keyboard into sixteen different pieces? Would that do it? Because I’d be perfectly happy to help you out with this. More than willing.
III.
I do not know the status of your application. I do not know what the admissions committee is doing this year, but "deciding on applications" is not high on its list. I could ask the committee chair but for some reason when I dial his number I get a reception desk at some hotel in Cabo San Lucas. So no, I am not deliberately playing keepaway with your admissions decision, no, I am not making you dance like a puppet by not telling you. I do not know. And I will not know in the next half an hour when you call me again. I do not know the status of your application.
IV.
My boss goes through my trash. She goes through my trash and says "No. Recycle this. No, don't throw this out here, take it to the can outside the north door because it might attract mice. No, why are you throwing out that folder that is torn almost in half, put tape on it". What are you, practicing to be a bag lady? MY TRASH. STAY OUT. Here, I've put a Hunter's Mark on it. MINE. NOT YOURS.
Current Mood: surly
Tags: bad place, wow
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08:59 am
[Link] |
NEED MOAR KITTEH
Tabby kitten
Originally uploaded by insufficiently leet
Tabby kitten
Watercolor, 3.5" x 2.5"
Tags: atcs, omg a cat, watercolor
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01:42 pm
[Link] |
rotten worthless demanding little gits
As in, the campus is full of them today. It is possible I do not have a good attitude about the beginning of the semester any more.
I seem to have forgotten to schedule making any New Year's Resolutions, having only some vague notions like sleep and remember to watch tv before DVR fills up. I did have one goal of doing a daily painting blog and, while I am doing daily paintings and learning a lot, they are not postable. So I have no proof and you probably don't believe me.
Kitty cat cards for an iATCs swap:
Small cat, large dog
Two blue cats think you should sleep on the couch tonight
Three blue cats do not want to pose for their picture
Five blue cats want you to give them their dinner now
Tags: atcs, bad place, colored pencil, omg a cat
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08:33 am
[Link] |
harassed by dead singing guys
who sing harassing things at me. John Lennon on the bus, And so this is Christmas, And what have you done? *dead guy smirk* and at home Frank Sinatra mocking me on a commercial, If other people do it why can't you?
SHUT UP SHUT UP YOU WRETCHED TOADS YOU'RE DEAD YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING THIS YEAR EITHER YOU CAN'T TALK OR FOR THAT MATTER SING
Ahem.
Anyway, ( sketchbook pictures behind the cut )
Current Mood: surly
Tags: notebook, pen and ink
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08:40 am
[Link] |
My Epic Poem About AV
or "Why I'll Need To Make Another Journal For the 50 Things Community Because Now They'll Never Let This One In"
( It's like the Illiad only BETTER. )
Current Mood: metric
Tags: artistic poem, wow
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09:44 am
[Link] |
Hypocrisy = survival
I'm a Red Sox fan. I live in Metro Denver. I am smugly happy but I have to do a very very good job pretending I'm not. hypocrisy ftw
Tags: dem bums, trivia
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09:39 am
[Link] |
Well, I'm convinced
She is indeed God and must be worshipped appropriately.
Tags: link spam
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08:18 am
[Link] |
Donkeylock
Donkeylock
Originally uploaded by insufficiently leet
Donkey warlock. Pen and ink [Lamy Safari M, Noodler's blue-black] in Moleskine, 5" x 8".
Current Music: "The Body of an American", by The Pogues
Tags: notebook, pen and ink, wow
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08:04 am
[Link] |
Trivia
It's Columbus Day but we don't have it off cause that would be silly.
I saw pigeons soaring on thermals over the stadium this morning. Pretending they are crows, I thought, working up a mental LJ post, then no not crows, vultures. Vultures? Screw vultures, hawks. Pigeons pretending they are hawks... and then I thought This is pretentious bullshits. They're just being fucking pigeons. My thought patterns are rather prosaic these days, which prevents a lot of bad poetry.
I've signed up for NaNoWriMo this year but I am dubious, as the community seems to consist entirely of bouncy bouncy twenty-year olds who introduce themselves in posts full of "*giggles*". I'm still not sure what the type "my kind of people" consists of but it's definitely NOT that one.
Current Mood: prosaic
Current Music: Dead Man Walking [the opera, not the soundtrack]
Tags: trivia, writing
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04:45 pm
[Link] |
Who is your anti-muse?
A field guide to the Anti-muses
Tags: artistic poem, link spam, writing
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10:20 am
[Link] |
Notebook a gogo
On the bus
Mechanic
Man on bench
Two women at a bar
Current Music: The Pogues, Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash
Tags: pen and ink, sketchbook
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10:32 am
[Link] |
"Bust-a-bility, bust-a-bility, com-bust-a-bil..." "QUIET!!"
Lighting the Way to the Literary Underground
From the article:
In recent years a very hard-edged underground literary movement has emerged on both English-speaking sides of the Atlantic. Writers as geographically distant and stylistically diverse as Canada's Matthew Firth, New Jersey's Mark SaFranko, London's Lee Rourke and Tony O'Neill have found a common ground based around an honest, no nonsense kind of writing and a philosophy that largely rejects both mainstream publishers and the academic world in an attempt to create a vital literature that exists entirely on its own terms. Though the individuals who make up this movement claim many different influences and certainly acknowledge no leader, the work of Dan Fante seems to have had a significant effect on all of them...To summarise it briefly, Dan Fante's universe is one in which frustration, impotence, alcohol, sex, and the search for an artistic dream freed from the massive falsehoods of contemporary American culture fuse into a highly combustible whole that at times threatens to engulf both reader and author alike...
Mike curled miserably around his peppermint mocha latte and would not speak.
"Come on," Henry coaxed. "It's not that bad."
"It is," said Mike. His iPod lay on the table between them, inert.
"Everyone can't be dysfunctional, Mike."
"You don't understand." Mike gave a despairing glance at his ultralight laptop, its brushed chrome case gleaming faintly in the light from the espresso bar. "My work has no value, Henry. I'm not combustible."
"Who said you had to be combustible?"
"Everybody. The reviewers. The publishers. The Guardian's book blog." Mike hid his face in his hands. "You know what, Henry? I've never been homeless. I've never had a drinking problem. And, God help me --" He looked around for a moment, as if fearing literary ninjas in the shadows -- "Henry, I've never, not once, shot off heroin. How the hell am I ever going to get tenure if I never shot off heroin?"
"I think it's 'shot up'."
"Whatever. Listen, Henry, my entire life is futile. I have a good job and a loving family. I'm mentally and emotionally stable. I've got to face it. I'm never going to be a writer."
There was nothing to say to this. They sat in silence for five minutes before Mike lifted his head and gazed at Henry's biscotti. "You gonna eat that?" he said.
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05:49 pm
[Link] |
It's funny because it's TRUE
BEST USE OF WEB PAGE EVER: The Postmodern Paper Generator. Refresh it a couple times too. Go ahead, do it.
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Amy was always the most equitable of them in facing the new semester, the most patient, the most affectionate towards the most impossible of undergraduates, and was as a consequence always assigned the freshman overview courses. All seemed fine with this arrangement until that fall term when she barricaded herself in her office and refused to come out.
"Amy," said Henry, tapping gently on the door. "Amy, your class started half an hour ago. They're wondering if they should leave."
"They're all postmodernists," she said. "They don't need my permission to leave. They don't need anything."
"They're just kids."
"They turned in their first essays last week." Amy's voice started to climb steadily, like a trapeze artist ascending to the wire. "Did you know, Henry, that there was actually no such thing as the Civil War? Did you know that it only exists because we acknowledge it happened?" Henry heard scratching sounds behind the door. "Did you know that there is no such thing as history? Did you know, Henry, that it's all a conspiracy?"
"It can't be that bad," Henry lied.
"They're everywhere, Henry! They're in my classes! They're on the faculty! They run the journals! Even my own CAT has gone pomo on me!" Her voice rose to an impressive shriek. "He catches mice and he chews the heads off them and lines them up on the kitchen floor. He's DECONTEXTUALIZING them!"
Miles hurriedly arranged for the rest of the term to serve as an emergency "research semester" for Amy, which she spent in the Botany department looking at pictures of orchids. Save for one bad setback (she had run across a team of psychology grad students in the department greenhouse doing a project based on the theory plants did not grow if people did not look at them), the time away calmed her enough to return to her job in the spring. Henry adopted her cat who, deprived of his mice, settled down to a theory-free existence of naps and cuddling in front of the television. He did make one attempt at deconstructing the arm of the sofa by choosing to believe it was his scratching-post, but Henry's counter-example of "spray bottle with water in it" overrode that theory. It worked so well that Henry seriously considered using the same argument on his students.
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01:41 pm
[Link] |
I love the Guardian's book section
no really, I do.
The digested Booker shortlist
Tags: link spam, snark
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02:36 pm
[Link] |
No sir, I didn't like it
So I was up half the night scratching my arm and my neck where I was mugged by wasps yesterday morning (little bastards moved into a hole directly over my front door and then had the temerity to get offended that I used said door) and the places where I got stung were red and swollen and itchy and it made me more surly than usual, which as you are no doubt aware is quite a lot to begin with.
So since I couldn't sleep I read a book about the Lindow man that was written by two people who seemed to have archeological cred in the beginning but turns out they were fucking high or something when they wrote it because they kept spinning off speculations that half a paragraph later they'd be asserting were facts, and I would have thrown the book across room but I had to keep putting it down to scratch my arm instead. The "D" word should have tipped me off right from the beginning. What we truly know about the Druids can be written on one side of a 3x5 card with enough room left over to draw a pony in the margin. Or, of course, we can write an entire book and make shit up. Did I mention I was a little surly?
The Unsuggester told me to go read some Salinger instead, or a cereal box. Either would be more historically accurate.
Current Mood: still itchy
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11:38 am
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Drat insomnia anyway
I got up way too early this morning and, while on most days I can play WoW for a little bit until either I fall back asleep or it's time to actually get up, on maintenance days I can't. So I spent the early morning hours hanging with my homies on the forum and making fun of locks.
Lifetap
Instant cast
The warlock gets all emo and superficially cuts itself, producing an AOE Whine for Attention of "HAEL ME" that puts a ten-minute Mood Debuff on all healers within a fifteen-yard range.
Improved Lifetap
Lifetap will now automatically post screenshots of the warlock's self-injury to its LiveJournal.
I hear that a guy killed a lock once and won the game.
For the sake of clarification to my entire friendslist which has no idea what I'm talking about -- no, I don't play a lock. And you better not either.
Tags: wow
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