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dreamburnt

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Ravenous. [Apr. 28th, 2008|12:05 pm]
I've topped 10,000 words on my current WIP. It's not like my other projects; no epic statement, no sprawling plotlines. No intent to write other novels in the world. It's fluff, or what I think is fluff: snark, sex, dysfunctional relationships that somehow find a functional malfunction, and a bunch of creepy shit happening to everyone.

It's something I think I can finish. Something relatively simple.

I'm actually excited about this project.

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Life, being what it is, keeps going unless you die. [Apr. 25th, 2008|12:04 pm]
Let's see... In the last few months....

I quit my job. I had a major depressive crash over the holidays. There was a hospital visit. I recovered a little and then I got worse, and then, through no fault of my own I managed to land a full-time $9/hr+benefits job, which I can't believe I haven't been fired from yet, but I shan't look a gift horse in the mouth or any other orifice. And then my relationship of six years ended in break-up. But I'm doing okay and we're still friends, I think, though it's really weird.

I am not on the market. I am staying single. SO FUCKING NOT ON THE MARKET OKAY PEOPLE. Absolutely zero desire to date, and I don't know why everyone's first reaction to the news is to try and kick me face-first into dating. Uhm, NO. I like being alone. That's why my last love and I fell apart, yanno?

And things, I guess, are kind of good.

Except for the whole waiting for dental insurance after my fillings fell out. But, on the plus side, I've had the time to make videos like these.



I still haven't finished an art trade I agreed to like five months ago and I feel so damn shitty about it. Must claw myself back to functionality ASAP.

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The horror genre needs to fucking DIE yesterday. [Feb. 9th, 2008|04:27 pm]
So. The art, it no goes well. I have a huge fat stack of trashed paper. Oh this would be good, but I can't draw it, oh crap I'm taking too long, I need to draw something better, OH GOD IT SUCKS TOO BAD.

And I want to fucking kill the makers of horror movies. I have seen one whole movie and half of about three, and I can barely begin to list what is wrong with them. Movie one: bad, bad, bad filming. Bukkake blood jisming. I can only assume people get off on this because it is shitty damn film-making.

Movie two? The slut gets it. Then the other slut gets it. And the man-slut, although you can tell he's getting it because he's a bastard, but the chicks got it because they were h0's. The sympathetic single mom gets it. There's a random Lovecraft quote shoehorned into the middle and never referenced again. Black People Don't Exist In This Town. The Hidden Mutant Kid with the OH GOD NO HARELIP is evil because, uhm... HEY UGLY EVIL. No wait he's not evil; oh wait yes he is. The queer gets it, too, in a random scene shoehorned in near the end because... well, being a fag is like being a slut, right, and we all know that sluts don't survive in genre horror flicks.

I want to make an insightful entry here, but it hurts my brain too much. The stupid, it comes in on so many fronts. Characterization, racism, misogyny, plot holes big enough to land a fleet of 747s in, but mostly the blatant affronts to basic logic.

I am trying to convert those movies into words but my brain is melting out my ears.

HEY WE'RE IN AFRICA. Out of the twelve people seen so far... only one is actually black. THE GOVERNMENT FACILITY IS INEXPLICABLY STAFFED ENTIRELY WITH WHITE PEOPLE, and no it's not supposed to be an apartheid setting. Said black dude has so far appeared for, uhm, two seconds... so far. I am sure he will be found dead later.

Snowboarding on sand. You find the skeletons of your friends stripped bare of flesh, aaand... you go sandboarding with a retard.

This is not horror. This is FUCKING STUPID.

"THIS IS AFRICA!!" THIS WASN'T A TIGER OR A RHINO OR A GORILLA EITHER!!

Uhm hum. Maybe it was an actual African, you cracka-assed cunts. Cos, yanno, if IT WAS AFRICA, THERE WOULD BE BLACK PEOPLE BESIDES THE DESERT PANHANDLER. Shocking, I know, but the local government officials would not all be American.

Oh, wait, sorry; there's another black guy, who is worshipping the evil evil bad monster WHO DRINKS THE LIFE FROM THE BONES OF EVERYONE AND SETS FATHER AGAINST SON.

These people deserve to be kicked repeatedly in their gonads for crimes against humanity and storytelling.

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In other news. [Jan. 28th, 2008|02:40 pm]
Pork is not a white meat. It's interesting. I can't say the debunking really applies to me, since I didn't even know what a white meat WAS until a few weeks ago.

On a tangent, I have not eaten a pork chop in over two years. I've had some ham. I just... don't like pork that much any more. Maybe it's 'coz I've watched Snatch a coupla times. Maybe pigs just taste ritually unclean.

Although, on the flip side, bacon is the best fucking thing in the world.

I'm poking at an art trade still. And sucking at it. But I feel better and I know I can at least make representative lines on paper now.

Am contemplating dipping into the emergency cash to buy a scanner, if I have to. I think I can afford a cheap one right now, though.

I want to try a new inking technique--as mentioned before, I shred paper while sketching. Doesn't help that I much prefer inking an enlarged sketch, either. (Enlarge, ink, shrink. That's how I roll, baby.) But I figure if I can scan said sketches, convert them to non-photo-blue/enlarge/print on cardstock, that'll skip a step or two, save some paper, and be easier.

Final thought: Black humor is a survival mechanism.

Link2 steel-toed concussions|throw a boot

Startin' from scratch. [Jan. 28th, 2008|03:38 am]
[angst level |like shit]

My main achievement over the past few days has been the tweaking of an iTunes playlist. The serial number for my OS is blocked. Well, crud. It was legal when we installed it seven years ago...

Tried making corn bisque again. The boy and the roomie ate all of it but it still tastes funny to me. Can't figure out what the missing ingredient is... Paprika, check. Flour, check. Thyme, check. Sugar? WTF. Yes, sugar is actually quite vital. Butter? 3/4ths a stick didn't do it. Chicken stock? A cup and two bouillon cubes. Current working theory is that it has to do with the proportions of corn to other. (I have been trying to make something that tastes like Zea's corn bisque for well over a year now, with variable measures of failure. The paprika and the sugar were the most dramatic factors in improvement.)

I am feeling really, really, really, REALLY fucking shitty. It's like every day of functionality gets paid off with three or more of not being able to muster enough energy to bathe or brush your teeth.

But I haven't done anything stupid lately so there's that.

I really cannot overstate how much like shit I feel. It's the stupidest fucking thing ever; I just feel wretched for no reason. I would be pissed at myself if I had the energy for it.

This entry is boring and rambling and pointless and I wouldn't post it but I can't be amusing right now. Ursula Vernon has this crazy-insane flair for being genius-poetic when she's down. Me? Uhm. Well, I'm typing still. My current working theory is that daily typing is good for you.

I really should've gone to the Saturday night D&D game... though, to be fair, the IC explanation for my character's absence is kind of amusing. (My kobold thief came down with a case of scale mites and hid in its "owner's" backpack. Lucky he doesn't store his spare pants in there.)

Link

Fuck me. [Jan. 26th, 2008|03:23 pm]
Today is shaping up to be another bad, bad day.

Couldn't sleep, then the cats woke me up, can't find my meds, don't think I have the energy for the weekend D&D game but if I miss it I'll be just as bitchy, and I only weigh 126 lbs.

And here I thought I was at 135. AFAIK my "natural healthy weight" is 100-110 (you laugh, but it all makes sense once you see my wrists--"bird-boned" doesn't even start to describe it); so that probably means all the muscle mass I used to have dissolved into fat (which as we all know take up more volume while weighing less). It's not vanity so much as not being able to deal with the DIFFERENCE. I figured I'd be through with all the radical body-mutations after puberty. I can't fit into my "nice clothes" any more--the suit jacket, the khakis and the fancified slacks. This pisses me off. See, I don't really like being hit on by strangers, so the abstract attractiveness factor is shit to me. What pisses me off is not being able to wear my clothes any more, and the fact that IT FEELS WEIRD WHEN I BEND AT THE MIDDLE.

I DON'T LIKE CHANGE and I'm out of cash and I'm terrified of job-hunting and MY FOOT ITCHES GOD DAMN IT AND WE DON'T HAVE ANY FOOD I LIKE AND MY WEB HOSTING IS OVERDUE BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Pissy, whiny, annoying--my work here is done. And by done I mean I've contributed nothing of value to the internets, but hey, daily updating is daily updating. Or whatever.

Bootstrap by bootstrap, bitches.

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...Mudshark? D: [Jan. 25th, 2008|05:13 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[angst level |D:]

We have two male roomies in the house. They're both single, and that fact often works itself into conversation. (Omit commments on how singality may or may not be preferrable to being in a relationship with me. But hey, they're the ones who keep making jokes about lucious buttocks. My pet theory is that secure straight men are the gayest creatures on the face of the Earth--sure, you laugh, but you haven't seen the disco-crotch-thrust dancing.)

Encounters with stupid fucking racists. )

There's a theory that sometimes, you just have to laugh or die.

I really do hope she doesn't vote.

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hot DAMN. [Jan. 24th, 2008|04:18 pm]
[Tags|]

Got my stitches out today, several days overdue. They'd been behaving before, but HOLY FUCK did that sting like ALL FUCKING HELL. The last time I had stitches was when I was in sixth grade and the cat bopped my lip open after I'd been pestering her, and I don't remember ANY pain getting those out. Maybe they numbed it up for that or something; I don't remember. Anyway. One side is oozy and swollen, the other side is... not sticking together. After having the stitches in for ages. Oh well. Doc says it doesn't look infected, just intransigent.

Lucky my feet were ugly to begin with. :P


Today's FOODENING: Attempted crock-pot beef-and-mushroom stew.

Adventures in Making-Food-Land )

ETA And the verdict is: Edibility! Tender and flavor-y. Though it did not, in fact, need quite so much milk/water. (IMHO. It's not really runny, just... sauce heavy. I'm not a big fan of sauce, but Ian's having it with rice so all's well.)

Linkthrow a boot

Again with the updates and the attempting to rejoin the living... [Jan. 22nd, 2008|11:42 am]
I checked the date on the first page of my sketchpad. April 2006. Yeah, that's right; I've been using this one for almost two years and I still haven't filled it. Ouch.

Drew Kiery. Sort of. Will most likely be tweaking the crap outta the char design. Have some vague panel layouts on the template. I know what I should be drawing, no idea blockage, I'm just having an existential crisis over holding a pencil again.

Most of yesterday was spent ripping through a 7" tall stack of cds and drawing a character who won't show up until chapter three at the earliest and an antagonist that might not even make it into this story AT ALL.

I would be more guilty if manticore-daemon-girl wasn't so hot. If I had a scanner I would be showing off the vicious face-eating shark teeth RIGHT NOW dammit.

I have no idea where most of my music even IS. I am up to 18 days already, and I haven't even touched the box I moved in with--all these albums came from work.

God damned job. It's like the aftermath of a break-up. Stupid abusive unfaithful job.

Linkthrow a boot

Mission Objectives [Jan. 21st, 2008|11:23 am]
[soundtrack |Lost in Space ST]

(1): Chug Vault until I can see through time.

(2): Rip the rest of my cd collection before I break them all. (Speaking of seeing through time? The soundtrack to the '98 Lost in Space movie. Don't laugh; there are actual bands on it. Juno Reactor and Death in Vegas, y0.)

(3): Find serial # for Win XP and figure out WHY THE FUCKING HELL Microsoft keeps MICROSHAFTING ME. I know it's a legit copy. (See, to put songs on the iPod, you need the NEW iTunes. To get the new iTunes, you need the second XP service pack. To get the SP2, you need to UPDATE YOUR UPDATER. And then Microsoft tells you you're a pirate. And then it tells you already have the SP2. And then iTunes tells you, NO WAI. And then Microsoft calls you a pirate again.)

(4): Draw something, slacker!


In the news... It'll make you sick, but you should read 'em anyway:
The best healthcare in world. And there are just no words for this.


[ETA]--And, more wonkishly...
Try it and I will beat you to death with a copy of the Patriot Act, moron.*
Not in my country, you son of a bitch.


(* Yes, he has some nice policies. With about as much real-world feasibility as an anarchist utopia or Ron Paul's moronic Flat Tax.)



[Son of ETA] Three cans later and I seem to have overshot my mark. Not only can I see through time, I CAN TASTE THE MUSIC.

I am still staring at the blank page in a state of existential angst.

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Art. Shizziznit. Whatever. [Jan. 20th, 2008|02:55 am]
[Tags|]

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )
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Life, one's expectations thereof, and a general pear-shape. [Jan. 18th, 2008|11:05 pm]
Everybody thinks about their future. We have dreams we want to see fulfilled (I want to be published! Talented! Richer than JKR!) and we have dreads we fear seeing realized (DEAD IN THE GUTTER! --or worse, alive in the gutter and not having the sense to kick the bucket...)

But I've gotta say, of all the things I imagined kicking off the big old six an' twenty with, I never once contemplated staying in Friday night and massaging toothpaste into Silent Hill 2.

I'm still unemployed and the damn game disc won't play. It has some infintesimal scratches. This is taking out the scratches. Will it help? Who knows, but it's better than TV.

And even if it doesn't start working, it'll still be minty fresh. Unholy eldritch horrors AND dental hygiene--what more could one ask for?



ETA--Then again, it could be the PS2, which is still insisting the controller isn't plugged in (it is) and that the game in the drive (yes I checked) is We <3 Katamari.

Sometimes life gives you lemons. Sometimes it's kumquats. I hear they make good preserves....

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Eeps! [Nov. 15th, 2007|05:34 am]
Sorry I missed that, [info]isskottr--was alt-tabbed. Nighters!

In other news, I AM NOT SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT WORK. Now you know that's some kinda news.

Also, I think I fucking love John Scalzi.

I'm replaying Thief Gold for the third time. Pondering writing crackfic of Garrett and the Bard from the snarky Bard's Tale.

You know they were made for each other.

I have a script for RSoM, not much hope for it but at least it's brain-exercise, and come Monday I will [CENSORED FOR WORK-RELATED MATERIAL]. And I'm feeling pretty chipper. I bet my sister can get me a job a Krispy Kreme. And at least I have the character design down for the MC, build-wise, anyway.

Linkthrow a boot

In retrospect... [Nov. 13th, 2007|04:05 am]
I'm not surprised.

Half of the management is bailing. Which leaves me and the person who does not know what the fuck she is doing.

Found out the other day that she's personal friends with one of the associates, which would explain why I've had so much trouble when they work together. The associate is fine when it's just them and someone else; put her and them together and work turns into Chat Central.

The DM called me today, apparently for the express purpose of finding out whether I was gonna bail too. I told her I intended to stay, but finances were tight. Also mentioned that Fucking Moron doesn't know jack about the store.

M'boy thinks I should've just said "if she sticks around, I'm leaving!!" Tempting, but probably not the best way to handle it.

The new store manager is coming in Monday. I will tell HER all this shit. IE; promote that cow, and I'm GONE.

Fuck--even KEEP THAT COW AND I'M GONE. I am tired of her randomly fucking deciding to come in a half hour or more late. Also, turning off her fucking phone. Also, not doing one fucking lick of work. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Linkthrow a boot

HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN [Nov. 9th, 2007|05:10 pm]
I'm back on my medication. I have a copay. A COPAY. IT'S TWENTY DOLLARS.

I am PEOPLE again.

In other news my eyes keep crossing and I'm having ... problem ... things ... reading comprehension Not Good.

So of course, I'm posting on the internets.

Working on the RSoM thing. Brain not cooperating. I have a few pages' leeway with the pacing and I think I've nearly topped it out. Going back to script, and will be worrying less about the actual wording of dialogue at this stage in favor of distilling the dialogue down to what HAS TO BE CONVEYED. Which is probably my main problem in all creative modes.


Also, everybody at the store has thirty days to shape up or fly straight or we're all fired.

I am willing to admit that I'm a highly unreliable first person narrator, but everything I've bitched about HAS HAPPENED, so there.

Perhaps I shall just go work at a grocery.

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More of same. [Nov. 4th, 2007|10:01 am]
Why did I agree to stay late at work?

Wrrryyyyyy?

Quick, someone pass me a strawberry.

In other news I actually kind of wrote things. Things in this case being a part-finished comic script.

I am not doing NaNo because (1) I don't like pain and disappointment and (2) I learn from my past mistakes. Sometimes.

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Mala Leche [Oct. 6th, 2007|08:08 am]
Banned in Cuba. Catchier than MTV. From here.

Moneda Dura "Mala Leche"

Lyrics. )




It's translated as a figure of speech meaning 'evil intentions', but... I guess the literal meaning is 'bad milk'? Can someone who passed a foreign lang confirm?

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ARGH. [Sep. 26th, 2007|08:54 pm]
I am disgruntled.

Latest Stupid Coworker Trick--"Hi, my ride's drinking [@ 3-4 PM], so I'm gonna be late for my shift tomorrow. Cover a couple hours for me?"

(1) If he'd just STOP DRINKING at some reasonable hour like 8 or 9, it wouldn't be an issue.

(2) You are ENGAGED TO YOUR RIDE. You should damn well be able to tell him to cork it until you're home.

(3) I am not showing up for two hours. It is not worth it to me, in gas, in the danger involved driving my car, or in energy. Not when the alternative is to JUST NOT GET AS HAMMERED. The next day when my boss had moving problems and absolutely had to be out of her apt. that day? I will cover shifts for that. But not chucking out my day off for the sake of $14.50.

Oh and after that my car totally died, BTW. I don't think it can go faster than 20 mph, and every time I hit the gas I can feel large hunks of car-guts grinding and shuddering around.

We lost a sale because SOMEONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD had put a high-top in the box with one half of the last pair of low-tops, and the other low-top was nowhere to be found.

Our new phone sucks worse than the one held together with masking tape and despite an alleged DSL upgrade it still takes five minutes to load anything.

Also, Vitter needs to be beaten with bricks. Louisiana, the land of lynching threats* and frothing Creationists.



(* One account has it that in the shotgun incident, a white kid was waving it at three black kids, and when they overpowered him and brought the gun to the police, they got charged with theft. Google more to read what the KKK's doing!)



STUFF THAT DOESN'T SUCK: Third panel down on the left. I think that may explain my new facial tic...

Linkthrow a boot

If she has not touched even that one box of outgoing shipment... [Sep. 21st, 2007|08:13 am]
I am going to kill her.

I am going to MOTHERFUCKING KILL HER. At least three fucking times I asked her to work on it with me and I told her, THIS SHIT HAS TO BE OUT BY TOMORROW.

And she fucking walked off and did who the fuck knows what, which consisted mostly of shopping through the product, not putting it out or actually working with the customers and certainly NOT ANYTHING RELATED TO THE PRESSING TASK AT HAND.

And if she hasn't AT LEAST taped up that one goddamned motherfucking forsaken box, I am going to fucking kill her.

You think I am joking. I am not.

I am going to call her up first fucking thing in the morning and tell her OH BUT HELL NO.

So. Fucking. Pissed.

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Like me, my hand is not happy. [Sep. 19th, 2007|06:04 am]
[Tags|, , ]
[angst level |wanting to stab my face off]
[soundtrack |Dandy Warhols / Warlords of Mars]

Goddamned tarded Lacunae-type fairy.

I hate it so much. Srsly. Hate. The entire little-finger side of my hand hurts, my wrist is crunchy, and my left leg is all cramped solid from sitting with the tablet on my lap. The upload is mainly as a testament to my pain. SEE I TRIED.

And I HATE IT ANYWAY. Sigh.

Odds of me falling back asleep are slim, so I'm gonna play Morrowind until work.



eta Oh, wait; NO I'M NOT, because today is one of the many days where my cd drive SIMPLY REFUSES TO WORK. Grr.

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