Yep. "Oasis" it is.
DING DING DING! No more calls, please....
I like the way the walls go out. Gives you an open feeling. Firefly is a good design. People don't appreciate the substance of things. Objects in space. People miss out on what's solid.
Early ,'Objects In Space'
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 - Jan 19, 2006 9:09:03 am PST #5243 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Amy - Jan 19, 2006 9:36:51 am PST #5244 of 10001
Because books.
Great drabbles, everyone. My favorite on that topic isn't even mine -- a friend's brother once gave her a pound of bulgar wheat for Christmas. A real WTF moment.
Yep. "Oasis" it is.
I kept waffling on this when I saw the LJ entry, because I couldn't decide if two Clash titles was too many or what, but this one is great. It's pinging me as slightly more pop than the others, but it's a great title.
Topic!Cindy - Jan 19, 2006 9:50:32 am PST #5245 of 10001
What is even happening?
It's pinging me as slightly more pop than the others, but it's a great title.Yes, this was part of the reason I waffled while offering it, but I think the lyrics are Bree and JP-y. And the original version by Muldaur is probably more funky than pop. What's pop about it is that it manages to be so catchy, but I think the catchiness feels more incidental than intentional. That's bordering on crit and probably meaningless to anyone who isn't in my brain (and my apologies, the place is a mess), so I'll stop, now.
Amy - Jan 19, 2006 9:57:31 am PST #5246 of 10001
Because books.
meaningless to anyone who isn't in my brain (and my apologies, the place is a mess)
You should see mine, babe.
Oh! I have a little gifty to send you!
Unrelated to the chaos in my head, of course.
Topic!Cindy - Jan 19, 2006 11:44:42 am PST #5247 of 10001
What is even happening?
Gifty?
deborah grabien - Jan 19, 2006 12:04:15 pm PST #5248 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
See, I will always associate it with Jane Fonda as Iris the hooker in one of my alltime favourite movies, "Steelyard Blues".
So for me, it's a cult song. Plus the whole JGB band connection. Plus the perfect suitability for the JP and Bree thing. Plus I loves it, I does.
Amy - Jan 19, 2006 12:05:31 pm PST #5249 of 10001
Because books.
Oh, I do, too. It's just more on my mental "'70s hits" playlist than on my rock one.
Gifty?
Just a little one. I may actually get to the post office tomorrow, too.
Steph L. - Jan 23, 2006 4:49:20 pm PST #5250 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
Oh yeah, baby -- it's still Monday, and I've got the new drabble topic!
Challenge #93 (thank-yous for shitty gifts) is now closed.
Challenge #94 is one that was actually suggested by Connie many many months ago (I bookmarked it and then forgot about it, and then a few nights ago I was going through my bookmarks and found it): the view outside your bedroom window -- or contemplations on why you don't have a bedroom window.
deborah grabien - Jan 23, 2006 7:00:04 pm PST #5251 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
"Restless" - the Patrick Ormand short backstory, for blind submission to the MWA anthology - is done.
Reader? Anyone? Please?
please don't let this suck
Amy - Jan 24, 2006 9:20:33 am PST #5252 of 10001
Because books.
Drabble: the view outside your bedroom window
I woke to heat, an angry, shuddering blast of it through the screen. Nudging Stephen awake, I sat up, still half dreaming, and raised my face to the window.
Across the sleeping street in the dark gray hours before dawn, the small shop was a Technicolor shock of light. Flames licked across the face of the building, devouring its carefully lettered signs and scorching the once white brick. Another tongue of flame burst from the roof, reaching for the branches of the elm that shaded the parking lot.
Beneath the sheet, Stephen’s arm curled around me. We watched it burn.