Luck, then, Deb.
(Which I typo'd orginally as "lick, Deb." Which kinda wasn't the message I wanted to send, but hee.)
Gunn: We open a can of Machiavelli on his ass. Harmony: It's Matchabelli, Einstein, and it doesn't come in a can.
'Soul Purpose'
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.
Strix - May 01, 2006 12:37:15 pm PDT #6553 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
erikaj - May 01, 2006 12:42:21 pm PDT #6554 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
I'm not sure...just a bunch of stuff about payment clearing and such. I think when you win you set things up with Cherry Author Lady, but I'm not completely sure.
Allyson - May 01, 2006 12:46:18 pm PDT #6555 of 10001
Wait, is this real-world child support, where the money goes to buy food for the kids, or MRA fantasyland child support where the women just buy Ferraris and cocaine? -Jessica
Inspired by deb, I'm going to get plucky and see if I can get a blurb from Sarah Vowell.
Strix - May 01, 2006 12:51:09 pm PDT #6556 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Go, Allyson!
deborah grabien - May 01, 2006 12:57:51 pm PDT #6557 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Allyson, I just had this perfect mental image of you and Ms. Vowell, just hanging and talking and getting progressively chattier as the conversation gets cooler and cooler.
ChiKat - May 01, 2006 1:07:20 pm PDT #6558 of 10001
That man was going to shank me. Over an omelette. Two eggs and a slice of government cheese. Is that what my life is worth?
Allyson, I just had this perfect mental image of you and Ms. Vowell, just hanging and talking and getting progressively chattier as the conversation gets cooler and cooler.
When this happens, I want to be sitting at the next table so I can shamelessly eavesdrop.
deborah grabien - May 01, 2006 1:13:12 pm PDT #6559 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
As on topic as it gets. What I did at two this morning.
If I get a response, I may write the second half of that title quote.
See Me, Feel Me...
Dear Joel:
There's a curtain. I've never known whether it was light-filtering or light-blocking; I didn't care, so long as it kept me safely out of view.
Not sure if we ever met, back in 1975
The music tore the curtain. It came pouring out, into the cracks in me, the parts that broke when we ended. I thought the cracks, touched with sound, would bleed. They did. They bled sunlight.
Anytime you want to share some mutual memories of him...
Cautious, I step out from behind the curtain. Maybe it won't kill me, after all.
...just let me know.
Allyson - May 01, 2006 1:30:23 pm PDT #6560 of 10001
Wait, is this real-world child support, where the money goes to buy food for the kids, or MRA fantasyland child support where the women just buy Ferraris and cocaine? -Jessica
hee. I wish.
deborah grabien - May 01, 2006 2:18:44 pm PDT #6561 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
When this happens, I want to be sitting at the next table so I can shamelessly eavesdrop.
Personally, I'm holding out for the film rights.
-t - May 01, 2006 2:25:31 pm PDT #6562 of 10001
I am a woman of various inclinations and only some of the time are they to burn everything down in frustration
Karl - wow, all those conflicting emptions, beautifully realized. It hurts to read in all the ways it should.
They bled sunlight.
is really getting to me right now.
A snippet from a short story I'm toying with:
The Gates of Hell
Everything was in place. The recordings were complete, his digital creations seamlessly interposed. He made the rounds, flipping on each projector, and again, tweaking alignment. Finally, he stood before the hologram, lost in wonder. Rodin’s sketches, realized in three dimensions, as they must have appeared in the artist’s imagination.
The damned souls trapped in the pillars seemed to writhe in his peripheral vision. His gaze was trapped by the three figures of Adam atop the Gates. They slowly swiveled until they were pointing directly at him. “Abandon all hope,” he thought as the Gates swung open.