erika, that's it. And the inverse is also true, I think: someone who doesn't know how to tell a story, who can't distill in a way that raises echoes, can take the most compelling story on earth and turn it into Yawnapalooza 05.
May have been the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.
Mal ,'Bushwhacked'
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.
deborah grabien - Nov 21, 2005 6:40:36 am PST #4968 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
erikaj - Nov 21, 2005 7:02:24 am PST #4969 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Been there, read that.
deborah grabien - Nov 21, 2005 7:41:20 am PST #4970 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Been there, read that.
Yep. And the New York Times probably reviewed it.
deborah grabien - Nov 21, 2005 9:05:26 am PST #4971 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Teppy! Topic, ma'am? It's Monday.
Amy - Nov 21, 2005 9:06:31 am PST #4972 of 10001
Because books.
I could suggest "wang"...
deborah grabien - Nov 21, 2005 5:12:55 pm PST #4973 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Hunger and thirst?
Persistence?
The human voice?
Steph L. - Nov 21, 2005 5:26:50 pm PST #4974 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
Bad Teppy! Bad!
Challenge #84 (lost in translation) is now closed.
Challenge #85 is pose (and, of course, any variation thereof -- poses, posing, poseurs, strike a pose, etc.)
deborah grabien - Nov 21, 2005 9:45:08 pm PST #4975 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
On The Cover of Rolling Stone
"Turn your head - perfect."
Click, light, another shot done. He's wearing a jacket: silver, lightning bolts up the sleeves. Damned thing weighs a ton, and he had dialysis two days ago. It's bright in here, too warm. He looks desperately tired.
"Almost done?" I want to cry. I don't usually come to shoots, but he's been ill. The photographer clicks away.
He catches my eye, and I smile. They'll airbrush the illness from his eyes, the exhaustion from his face. All a pose; whether or not the camera loves him, I'll take him home, and show him I do.
SailAweigh - Nov 22, 2005 12:54:04 pm PST #4976 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Good one, Deb.
Aims - Nov 22, 2005 1:20:33 pm PST #4977 of 10001
Shit's all sorts of different now.
It's short. But, well, there you go.
Pose
Hands clasped. No smile. Mouth closed.
The body seems to automatically go into this position.
Hands clasped. No smile. Mouth closed.
Give him the remote. He’s only sleeping and will be pissed if he can’t find it when he wakes.
Hands clasped. No smile. Mouth closed.
I want to scream. I want to strike. I want to wake up from this awful dream.
Hands clasped. No smile. Mouth closed. Tears streaming down my face.
The pose of death.
For the living.