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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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eh. not at my best today
children of dune - leto 1
seperis
I've been in a bad mood.

Not work related or family related or logical, but--hmm. A lot of small, stupid reasons that are beneath me to even notice but for some reason this week, just came together.

Then there's this entire--thing that something a friend said suddenly sank in recently. Not a jenn-thing, but a fandom-thing, and specifically a fanfic-thing, and it hit me Very Hard this week, adn explaining it is impossible, but it did make me wonder, at least for a few minutes, that other than the fact I get off on what I do, is there any actual redeeming qualities associated with it, other than the pleasure of writing and the ego gratification of posting and the joys of being part of a community, which all really do look like fine justfications to me.

*thinks* I always thought the pleasure was really enough of a justification--I mean, as a kid, I wrote for hours and hours and HOURS just for me to read and rewrite and read again. Just because I loved doing it. The suckiness of being grown-up is to sit down and think, what does this, exactly, MEAN?

Or rather, Another Hint From Family That I Am Wasting My Time adn Ability Blah Blah Blah, and this from people who watch sporting events regularly. *gar* See what I mean about little things? This is the sort of stuff I mock for fun regularly, but this week, it's like, everything that doesn't usually bother me, if it ever does, is suddenly really, really hitting entirely wrong.

So, hence, I avoid LJ, because I am quite capable of going on for hours about myself at random and annoying my friends list excessively. I just annoyed myself writing this, as a matter of fact.

On the other hand, something bizarre.

There's this vague, really small, probably in my head hint that just perhaps, one of my coworkers is flirting with me. There's an entire like, series of things, which on the surface look kind of normal, and you know, are normal, because honestly? I'm as likely to notice a guy flirting with me as I am to notice the state of the economy in Zimbabwe. Unless you put it in front of me and mention CLex, probably not gonna catch on. Hell, for the last week, literally, a bulldozer might help, but just--weird.

Because people do not flirt with me. Or I have been out of the social world for way, way too long. Not that I don't flirt, but again, I have a generalized black and white approach--either I'm at my extroverted scariest or completely withdrawn, and when I'm busy, I can go either way depending on how much I'm concentrating and how interesting the other person is.

But. Flirting. And I don't think he's very good at it, which makes it even less likely, but again, much less likely things have happened, like this last week when I was reading and decided, for no reason, to see if I could write a horror story.

I don't even want to go into it, but one, it's past tense, which I have discovered is Very Hard Work now, and two, it's really rather boring. Mostly because I really don't know what I'm doing. This isn't my tradition. I read horror, but I don't have the--I want to say eye, but more like the fingers to type the right words to get it to work right. Of course, anytime you try and compare yourself to Lovecraft, he of the oblique and understated prose and gift of showing, not telling in a really big way of implications, (adn the man is practically the grandfather of modern horror and the bedrock many of the great modern horror novelists build on) you're going to come out feeling like a kindergartener learning the alphabet, but it's a cheat to compare to John Saul, who honestly makes me worry for the IQ of the nation every time he makes the bestseller list.

Speaking of which, if you haven't read Lovecraft? Your homework assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to find an anthology of his best work and read it straight through. Bram Stroker, outside Dracula, is pretty good too. Part of my first check will probably go toward picking up some of the classics finally that I can never find in bookstores.

This stuff will leave you speechless for DAYS. Color Out of Space still wins as the one that scares the bejeezus out of me, because he manages to imply more things in a few paragraphs that most novelists can tell in a novel.

God, I have to get OUT of this mood now.

Recs

When a Strawberry Is Pushed Through a Mountain by thamiris Mmm yes. Not ONLY Clex, but fun, misunderstandings are fixed Clex. And deep dreaming! Mmm. Hot and fun to read. Yes.

Indigo Is His Own by Rhiannon. Follow up to Blue Always Knew, I liked Lex's very natural freak-out and how they both handled it. And the hotness was nice, too. OH yes.

Luckily for me, I'm hugely behind in reading, which means tomorrow is going to be a VERY good day of joy and reading voraciously. Oh yes. And maybe get drunk beforehand, just for the hell of it.

For those interested, for the remix, I wrote Damaged, a Chloe remix of lexcorp_hope's very very very good Undone. It's not going to make sense without having read Undone, and frankly, it's not anywhere near the level of artistry, quality, or clarity that Hope creates, but it exists, which trust me, I do take some satisfaction out of, since for days, every time I looked at it in Word, insta-block.

Like Te, no one should be asked to rewrite Hope. Seriously, I knew it could only go downhill.

The other remixes are splendid--pearl_o remixed Every Second Wednesday into a beautiful, very creepy, deliciously jagged bit of story in Every Second Wednesday: The Concentration Remix and I'll get to the other SV ones this weekend, but just for the record, good stuff going on here. And by 'here', I mean We Invented the Remix...Redux, prepped, challenged, and hosted by the lovely and very talented musesfool Yay Victoria!

I'm going to make my AIM friends deal with me now. *g*