Gotta love Sundays
Aug. 8th, 2004 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xaaraPenned my first drabble for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
open_on_sunday today: Andante Accelerando. 'Twas lots of fun. If I have time, I might wrestle with another that's been kicking around in my head for a week or so.
I'm hopeless.
Also watched a really really bad romance flick called "Personally Yours" or something like that. It's set in Alaska and plays like a PG and completely uninspired iteration of "Northern Exposure." Bleh. I can't believe I actually sat through it, except that the wise old guy character made me laugh.
Played tennis for a little while, apparently just to remind myself to stick to the sports I'm actually good at. I was thoroughly humiliated by a bunch of old guys in the next court.
And I'm almost done with the prologue to the SW fic I'm co-writing. My co-writer, who knows who she is and should be running for her life, is not ever getting me to write a prologue again. In fact, I don't think I'm ever going to write a prologue again even if the story requires it. I'll just write the first few chapters and then stick a prologue somewhere in the middle (would that make it a midlogue?). *shudders, then wanders off muttering, Prologue, prologue, it's always the prologue, we wants it, our prologue....*
Yes, I'm clinically insane. What, you didn't know that? ;)
EDIT: Just realized that this is my 100th post. Happy sort-of anniversary-type thing, my LJ!
<<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>>
Rejected Pictures For Commemorative New York Subway Fare Cards
Spike, 1970s
Don't know what happened here, do you? You can't feel it, taste it, hear metal meeting flesh or the sharp crack of a snapped neck.
God, it was beautiful.
Chased her through the dank alleys of this festering city, along pathways littered with drunks and stray cats. Onto this train car.
Later, I took her jacket, dumped out the pockets, pulled it on. A farecard fluttered to the floor.
I smeared a tiny bloody stake on the card, then tucked the ticket into her shirt.
No use to be riding the subway without a pass.
Even as a dead Slayer.
open_on_sunday today: Andante Accelerando. 'Twas lots of fun. If I have time, I might wrestle with another that's been kicking around in my head for a week or so.I'm hopeless.
Also watched a really really bad romance flick called "Personally Yours" or something like that. It's set in Alaska and plays like a PG and completely uninspired iteration of "Northern Exposure." Bleh. I can't believe I actually sat through it, except that the wise old guy character made me laugh.
Played tennis for a little while, apparently just to remind myself to stick to the sports I'm actually good at. I was thoroughly humiliated by a bunch of old guys in the next court.
And I'm almost done with the prologue to the SW fic I'm co-writing. My co-writer, who knows who she is and should be running for her life, is not ever getting me to write a prologue again. In fact, I don't think I'm ever going to write a prologue again even if the story requires it. I'll just write the first few chapters and then stick a prologue somewhere in the middle (would that make it a midlogue?). *shudders, then wanders off muttering, Prologue, prologue, it's always the prologue, we wants it, our prologue....*
Yes, I'm clinically insane. What, you didn't know that? ;)
EDIT: Just realized that this is my 100th post. Happy sort-of anniversary-type thing, my LJ!
<<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>>
Rejected Pictures For Commemorative New York Subway Fare Cards
Spike, 1970s
Don't know what happened here, do you? You can't feel it, taste it, hear metal meeting flesh or the sharp crack of a snapped neck.
God, it was beautiful.
Chased her through the dank alleys of this festering city, along pathways littered with drunks and stray cats. Onto this train car.
Later, I took her jacket, dumped out the pockets, pulled it on. A farecard fluttered to the floor.
I smeared a tiny bloody stake on the card, then tucked the ticket into her shirt.
No use to be riding the subway without a pass.
Even as a dead Slayer.
