Belzer just got a shiver, I'm sure.
Mal: He calls back, you keep them occupied. Wash: What do I do, shadow puppets?
'The Message'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
erikaj - Jul 05, 2005 12:42:33 pm PDT #3008 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
erikaj - Jul 05, 2005 1:08:44 pm PDT #3009 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
More literal bitter
Beer, Age Ten
My mom and dad had a party last night, and I guess Mom hadn’t cleaned up yet because there are popcorn bowls and glasses out and stuff. I ate some popcorn from the bowl, even if it’s morning. My brother finds some beer, just a couple drips in a bottle and tastes it. He tries to act like it’s good, but his tongue comes out anyway. “How was it? Really?”
“Sour. You want the last sip?”
He hands me the bottle. I look in, sniff it. “I can’t believe they really drink this stuff. It smells really bad.”
“You’re not supposed to smell it.”
“I’m not trying. It just reeks.”
My brother makes his new Girls! Face that he learned from the boys across the street. It’s a new one but I’m getting tired of it already. So I close my eyes and pretend I am having the nastiest cough syrup ever, or getting a bandaid ripped off really fast. But I do it because Mom says we’re tougher than they are. It takes until Mom gets up for me to get the pucker off my face.
deborah grabien - Jul 05, 2005 1:12:08 pm PDT #3010 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Are we doing a Ten Most Bitter list? I can do that.
1 (with a bullet): Lynda with a y, aka Dolly. Same nickname as the aunt who raised me, a woman I cordially disliked. Lynda-with-a-y the Second was the black hole who had everything I wanted, held on to it for all the wrong reasons, and pissed all over it. She won, I lost. Fuck bitter - pass the bile.
2: I finally got to offer payback to #1 in fiction form, and wound up being fair to the bitch.
3. My youth was completely wasted on me, because, as it happens, I was a bloody idiot.
4. Wrong decision, a long time ago. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Still paying.
5. See #1.
6. Ibid
7. Ibid
8. Ibid
9. The fucking NeoCons.
10. Multiple sclerosis.
11. This list goes to eleven.
Steph L. - Jul 05, 2005 2:22:43 pm PDT #3011 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
Your drabble topic is: EAT IT!!!!
No, not really.
Sorry, folks --I was busy blowing things up Monday (because somehow blowing shit up is patriotic....), and today I was fighting with a computer all day (though I finally won, tra la). But I bring you your very late drabble topic, finally!
Challenge #64 (trust) is now closed.
Challenge #65 (and I thought we did this already, but I checked -- we haven't) is blood.
(Yeah, I watched a few too many Buffy reruns over the weekend -- what can I say?)
Aims - Jul 05, 2005 2:35:21 pm PDT #3012 of 10001
Shit's all sorts of different now.
The First Time
“How old is this quilt?”
“I dunno. It was my grandmother’s.”
My eyes grow big and I get back to scrubbing.
Scrub scrub scrub.
The smell of the detergent and the blood mixed makes almost as nauseous as I was 10 minutes ago. I must get this quilt clean.
Scrub scrub scrub.
The only sound in the room. I’m no longer breathing – breathing will make the stain set. My brain is full of “Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.”
Scrub scrub scrub.
And it occurs to me: Am I trying to clean this quilt or myself?
Scrub scrub scrub.
deborah grabien - Jul 05, 2005 2:52:01 pm PDT #3013 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Oh, Aimee. Damn.
I love that.
Aims - Jul 05, 2005 2:54:38 pm PDT #3014 of 10001
Shit's all sorts of different now.
Thanks, Deb.
deborah grabien - Jul 05, 2005 3:05:48 pm PDT #3015 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Bad Medicine
I'm eighteen, tough as old boots. Eighteen, and my life is a chronically ill musician, ten years my senior.
Actually, right now, he's with his wife in Surrey, and I'm at our supposed house in Mill Valley. I'm sitting in my favourite rocking chair, his chair, emptying a bottle of tequila: rock, chug, swallow.
He's gone. Again.
I don't know it yet, but later on, when I finish the bottle, I'll fill a bath and take a razor in with me, water going scarlet, bloodletting him out of me, friends pulling me out, interfering fuckers.
Like I told you, I'm eighteen...
SailAweigh - Jul 05, 2005 3:47:48 pm PDT #3016 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Oh, man, Deb. Talk about fucking painful.
SailAweigh - Jul 05, 2005 4:15:01 pm PDT #3017 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Well, I was starting to wonder if my muse had abandoned me. Thankfully, not.
Tainted
It was my first day in Rota and my sponsor took me out for dinner. We sat at a table on the sidewalk. The white-washed buildings crowded the narrow road; when I looked up all I could see was a small square patch of bright blue sky. The air had that gauzy quality that signaled sunset, but there was still so much light. I asked what time it was. Past 10:00, said my companion. Amazing. It was still light out when my steak came and I enjoyed the meal for the surroundings, not the flavor.
I can’t donate blood, now.
ETA: I rewrote this, so if you've already read it, check it out again. I like this much better. More visceral.