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Dreams, good ones if weird   
04:54pm 04/10/2015
  Last night's dreams were incredible intricate coherent things like I haven't had in years, not that I've remembered them fully but two I preserved as well as I could.

The first one I kept, I'm calling the physics-superheroes one because the Greeneling and I had somehow figured out how to thwart the Second Law. We were in this immense lecture hall where we were being taught how to teleport common objects, and our desks were designed as receiver-transmitters for the object transmission device the professor had down below. He was using this sort of plastic origami white spherical star to send around, and I had just sent the thing back to him and was wondering if I could just ...use a similar principle to physically alter my desk and just DID. And I thought it was cool but didn't know why it worked when desk material wasn't in the teleportation mechanism, so I went down to the Greeneling's desk to demonstrate, whispering urgently as the lecture continued down below.

I kneeled by his desk, put my hand on the edge, and did it again, added a couple inches to the front white edge, but I got it wrong and had an extra chunk stretching to the right. He was as curious as ever, so he started to work out the math of it while I felt at the right edge to figure out what I'd done wrong. I supposed that somehow I had sent a chunk of desk material back in time from the future to bond to his desk, but had sent a chunk of the wrong size. While feeling it, I could sort of feel the edge of where the desk was supposed to be under where the new section was, and had another little epiphany. "Watch this", I said, and stepped over the backs of one of the lecture rows where no desks were, but some had been or would be, stumbled and landed sprawled on thin air across the nonexistent desks. The Greeneling was staring at me like yet another fascinating mathematical puzzle when I woke up.

Raina was trying to get my attention to feed her and put her outside so I did.

Later, near morning, I dreamed I was at a massive reunion of some kind, and the hotel had sent us on a strange maze-like path to the street, giving us spare radioed instructions. Like "elevator", which released us on train tracks in front of bright blue branching tunnels, with surrounding displays of cerulean animated aquariums. Exiting one of the tunnels, to my right I saw a chamber lined with beautiful cobalt 1-foot tile, covered with white graffiti, arching two stories above me, with seemingly no purpose but to highlight the barred window to the outside where skyscrapers soared like canyon walls. "Oh this is what Detroit looks like," I thought. ...I've never been to Detroit but even I know that dreambrain was very wrong there. Still, I know what it meant.

Leaving, the tunnel now to my left, there was a white bridge and a stairway down to another cobalt tiled section, open to the city, where a few other girls sat at the edge of its trough and dangled their feet in the city like in a sea. The whole place had the feel of a designer sewer, pouring out God knows what into the city, maybe air. Maybe whatever made things blue and beautiful, like creativity.

I chose not to join them, but followed the bridge to a closed stairway, brown stone and carpeted, spiraling down to the street. There were celebrities there, part of the reunion, Joan Rivers and Shatner I think maybe, people who didn't matter to me, as much strangers as everyone else at the reunion. I had a tablet in my hand, with the next instructions, "Top Ten Things to Do in Detroit for No Money" which I explained to Ms. Rivers was where the hotel had been herding us the whole time.

Outside there was a square, with outdoor restaurants, where a girl I knew in high school was eating. I looked at #1 of the top ten, which was "Tip your toes in Naples Fountain", with an image of a 50-foot circle of verdigrised bronze sculpture depicting Poseidon and naiads around steps going down to a light, bright, chlorinated flow of abbreviated river, flowing out of a gap in the green metal artwork over the very square I was in. I looked up and there was the fountain on a roof at the corner of the square, its shining flow disappearing before white marble steps at the top of an approaching ramp. I considered going up, climbing the river of the fountain to where I could dangle my feet at the top, but decided to read the rest of the ten things. I was squinting at #2, trying to read it, when I became aware I was dreaming and awoke.
I guess this is still my place for journals to archive   
11:34pm 08/04/2015
  I sat down on BART for the 8 minute ride home from Dublin and a desire washed over me to just stay, riding in the warm car, hopefully to the end of the line and back. And I might have, I do that sort of thing and it's comforting, a kind of aloneness that skips isolation.

But I thought, as I do, and decided if I were to do such a thing, I would be home late, I would cook no dinner or if I did I would just stay up and be useless come morning from lack of sleep. And I spent that 8 minutes convincing myself, with a hint of mourning, to rise at my town and end the journey.

It is part of something weighing me in general. A desire to be quiet, to be carried, to have no action but life and movement. Oh, it's financial, of course it is, college debt ensures that's my life, the bitter edge of money's allowances and punishments. But I think it is also me, and the draw of just walking away from everything, without words or warnings, would remain entrancing regardless of my estate.

Selfish, and paired with laziness and yet it drips its tears onto a wider pool. The world should be gentler, and it is not, and it is at least partly in our power as a species. Our failure is more one of falling short of critical mass than one of individual cruelty. One can see the draw of inventing a religion.

Wander out into the hills, leaving all but your shirt and shoes. One note saying "Sometimes, the most important thing is to follow God. But he is not here, so I go to find him." Lose some of your humanity - some of your fear - and gain nothing to fill the space before you can reshape it forever.
MFU movie trailer is out   
09:56pm 11/02/2015
  And the reactions are pouring in.

Overwhelming existing fan response: "I have immense doubts but I am going to watch the f*ck out of this."

Cavill fan response: "abjfjegaiiwghwkdi HOT" (there was even one literal actual "my pussy is so wet right now")

Externals: Mad Men comments.

Me: We have confirmed one-chop knockout, Napoleon's verbal tic, Illya trying not to be sexy, and Napoleon flirting madly with the enemy while openly telling her he stole an invitation to her party. Promising enough.
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10:59am 16/09/2014
Künstliche Welten - Praha-Edit

Ah, God. I have loved, oh.

This particular mix of this particular song became my greatest musical obsession in the summer of 2002. It was on a CD mix called Das Klingt Gut which Ryan Corps gave all of his friends before summer vacation. I translated it by ear and decided it very much fit the way I pursued relationships.

One day, a bit depressed (because just… all the things, for me and for others) and thinking about my high school best friend (who had recently broken up with his fiancee), I left the final sentence on my dorm whiteboard in German.

*Ich zeige dir mein Angesicht, doch du siehst mich nicht.* - I show you my (true) face, but you don’t see me.

Jeff came by, and we discussed its translation and why I chose to use “but” rather than “and” (it was the best way I could show emphasis for “doch”). Then he stared into that whiteboard like it held the secret of his future.

Which, I suppose, it did. Even though I was thinking, somewhat hysterically, …I should probably tell him I didn’t write it for him…

He spoke, still staring at my door. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I’d like to be more than just friends with you, but the thing is I’m planning to join the Air Force in two weeks, and it doesn’t seem fair to you.”

My head started doing that dizzy hysterical thing, and I nodded very slowly and seriously. Then stood and said, quoting that week’s CRFH, “Excuse me, I feel a giggle attack coming on.” Then I shut the door in his face.

And LAUGHED OH GOD I LAUGHED for like half a minute.

Then I opened the door and said, very calmly, “Yes I understand. Very reasonable.” nod nod nod “Too bad, it would … it would be nice to find out what it would have been like.”

Two days later, I got him to kiss me.
Reaction Post: Deep Breath   
09:26pm 23/08/2014
  Argh lots of stops and starts not liking iPlayer much yet

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always easier to articulate if it won't be said or sent   
02:24pm 09/06/2014
  The idea that I might indulge from time to time in a bit of schadenfreude is repellent. Nevertheless I find myself wishing to know that all this is not so easy for you as it seems. That you think of me now and then, reminding yourself that it would be cruel or wrong to take what might be just at the edge of your reach.

I find it more comforting, oddly, that you might believe I can't have been in love (not really, just obsessed, even though that implies horrible things about me) than that you believe all you felt was comfortable in the convenience of a relationship. Regardless of past truth, it is so human to doubt one's own decisions that I expect someone human to wonder if there was love, somewhere in all of that, which was too much, too disrupting, to grant full reign. If the reason one felt less than complete love was a matter not of accident but of suppressed effort.

I want to believe you are so human. I want to think that is what I love most, in anyone, that complex uncertainty of our own motives which keeps us from trying to be gods and monsters. It would be terrible to believe I might be thrown as completely astray by a person who smelled like you do, or watched like you did, so briefly.

There are few things about anyone genuinely unchangeable unless we are ready for them to be so. I am too ready for that, it is true, and I blame the nature and quality of my recall-memory because it is what seems most different about me from any but the most unchangeable person I know. But reflection upon imperfect memory, then, must change the nature of things we treasure and doubt. Love becomes more flexible in the standard mind than could ever fit the imagined ideal of Story.

Which should be the best, in fact, for the eternal adjustment of consciousness. But as we rewrite our stories, there is no reason to think they will be written according to our faiths with fears just as strong. How much better, I imagine, for the most loveable thing to be not what is perfect or sees improvement, but the struggle itself that defines us as something less than angels, subtler than gods.

So I look for that in you, beloved.
01:10am 21/04/2014

Man I hope my MFU Easter bunny hasn't forgotten me...

But I had fun writing my two. Especially the one about the donkey in the desert, since I got away with a fairly outrageous pun. =3

01:11pm 23/03/2014

Having realized yesterday that I hadn't yet made my birthday cake, I invited my cousin over and remedied that.

Caramel yellow cake, covered with a vanilla rum chocolate ganache. Mmmm.

12:09am 22/03/2014

I am very tired and want to get home to sleep.

Now I am home. And about to sleep. Yay I got my birthday present!


04:25pm 10/03/2014

Things that (despite efforts of denial) I still believe:

That Jeff is an unbounded good for me.
That Jeff is a bearer and gatekeeper of Reason.
That Reason is an unbounded good (for me.)
That I represent safety and home for Jeff.
That home will eventually be desirable for Jeff.
That regardless of whether he is home, it is good to know home exists.

I can deconstruct these into passive memes, but not eliminate them. The last, in particular, has enough existential semiotic weight to spell the difference between self-preservation and self-destruction in a crisis. I have never had enough self-referenced defenses to transfer the full weight of my depressions onto myself alone, and no other person is so conveniently out of reach as to leave me free under such a stark dependency.

02:30pm 03/02/2014

You know how
You feel isolated so you act isolating?

I've been pulling myself away
And I'm too tired to relax that clench
just to tell people I need them
to come after me

08:30am 15/11/2013

Pulled a muscle in my calf while playing with my cat. Yay.

Guess I'll be asking students to come to my house for a few days...

canon BOOM   
10:44am 14/11/2013


Ha! That was awesome   
09:43am 14/11/2013

So here's a link for the minisode

my commentCollapse )

Now all they need is Omega so I can see Lia happy too   
07:45am 14/11/2013



Word of Warning   
01:21pm 12/11/2013

I made friends with a girl on Sunday, pretty much because she had very attractive handwriting... ANYWAY.

She was working on her NaNoWriMo, so I told her about converting the intro of Seven Pillars into iambic hexameter and we bonded over literary masochism. Her name is Jordan.

She pointed me to a sonnet-writing contest last night, so now I'm trying to write as many sonnets as I can in the next couple of days in hopes of producing one or two worth the entry fee.

Some of them may show up here.

12:15am 28/10/2013

And then I spun around in the kitchen, fists in a V above my head, crying "laserbeams!" amid the rolling cracks of laughter

And a perfect tone sounded from the wineglass on the cutting board

One note rung from it by the strike of a bobbypin held by, holding, the tip of my braid

Which swung behind me in my enthusiastic twirl

What wonderful irony   
01:05am 26/10/2013

That I could patiently fill a trepidatious letter to him with all the things I best love about writing

All the things for which, upon reflection, I realize he would once have reserved no patience

It would be fittingly harsh if he should remain so much who he was that it serves me ill

07:37pm 25/10/2013

Aaaaaaa Vincent Price died on Leo G Carroll's birthday waaaaaaaah...

Poem: Impermanence   
11:35pm 24/10/2013

Wrote this a few days ago

I look to you still though an effort of will

Will allow my mind to turn away

But to sort out the mind without thoughts of a kind...

You were such a resource for me and all my reasons to want your conversation are selfish. And while selfish things should be heeded when needed, our interaction was ever poorly suited to thoughts of myself.

They became desperate.

They strained.

The tears, squeezed out in a lengthening whine, drained my eloquence.

I think it's your move, and will have to be until you make it

Until age silvers our eyes in clouds

Until my hand shakes too much to lift

Until your breath breaks its promise

And the chess piece forever keeps its place

And all these words and thoughts of mine

The love of strange and stunted beauty

Remain my own though facing you

Unaltered, unassumed

What a preservation then in portait

Of our imperfect piece

A world of crumbs and crumbles

Captured in frieze

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