Erika, that is the best thing I have seen in a very long time. Can I tag?
Yeah, we're building a race of frog-people. It's a good time
Xander ,'Selfless'
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.
Pix - Mar 02, 2005 5:23:49 am PST #339 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Connie Neil - Mar 02, 2005 5:31:32 am PST #340 of 10001
brillig
And if I don't write, I hurt people
More fun than therapy, cheaper than drugs.
erikaj - Mar 02, 2005 6:23:31 am PST #341 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
If you want, Kristin, please. (Although to be completely accurate, I'm my own victim more often than not. But I count as people, right?)
Connie Neil - Mar 02, 2005 6:40:59 am PST #342 of 10001
brillig
But I count as people
Some people never get to that stage of realization, that not hurting people includes themselves.
deborah grabien - Mar 02, 2005 7:31:08 am PST #343 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
For Chino
When we first saw her in the pet store, she was just past true kittenhood, six months old.
"Oooooh!" My daughter was enchanted. "She's all golden!"
She was, too. A cameo shade Persian, gleaming yellow cat with yellow eyes, a purr that could be heard rattling across a room. We brought her home with us.
Fourteen years later, she is skin and bone. Cancer has taken hold. She sleeps on the big soft pillow in our living room, deep into dying. I touch her a lot, trying to reassure, to ease her out. Sometimes, her purr rattles under my hand.
This one's for Capuccino, purest gold.
Liese S. - Mar 02, 2005 7:44:23 am PST #344 of 10001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."
Aww, deb.
victor infante - Mar 02, 2005 8:02:01 am PST #345 of 10001
To understand what happened at the diner, we shall use Mr. Papaya! This is upsetting because he's the friendliest of fruits.
New poem, written in the "Written Right Now"contest at a local reading:
Light-Up Plastic Tiara
The apocalypse is a cable gameshow,
wears Vegas like a tiara,
smokes tobacco straight like scorched earth,
recycles in the late-night slots,
only the stoned will see it coming.
SailAweigh - Mar 02, 2005 8:06:50 am PST #346 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Aw, deb! You're not supposed to make me cry at work! Sniff.
ita, Liese, I loved both of yours. They make one stand back and go "whoa."
I'm particularly bereft of words for this topic. It might be because all I can think of is a pair of yellow shoes with black heels that I had in Spain. Loved those shoes. Never wore them in the states. They didn't fit.
erikaj - Mar 02, 2005 8:13:58 am PST #347 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
still thinking, too.And "I work alone." to get all noir about it, so I could cry or strip or whatever, but otherwise Sail is me.
Ginger - Mar 02, 2005 8:43:05 am PST #348 of 10001
"It didn't taste good. It tasted soooo horrible. It tasted like....a vodka martini." - Matilda
Yellow
Daffodils have no sense. The slightest hint of warmth and they push up through ivy, kudzu, unraked leaves, and the beer bottles and condoms on vacant lots. Sometimes they are the last visible sign of a house long gone. Kick at the dirt around a misplaced patch of daffodils and you may find a well, a foundation, a blackened hearth where some girl waited for daffodils and for spring. She shivered by the fire and dreamed of melting snow and tiny sprouts, the bright yellow of daffodils, the color of optimism, the shade of hope, the sign of unlikely survival.