Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

rain and dreams and other things

I was so tired last night that I basically slept from the time I got home to eight o'clock this morning, even though my Buffy DVDs finally came--four seasons' worth.

Apparently I really do identify with Brian Kinney, because I dreamed I was Justin's jealous boyfriend. We were at a concert in a theater with red velvet seats, and the Backstreet Boys were playing. I sat next to Justin in one of the front rows, feeling uncomfortable as the BSB guy--Nick, I think it was, and it disturbs me that I know one of their names, so let's just move on--danced acrobatically with the rest of his crew and flirted with Justin, eyefucking him from the stage. Justin flirted back, because I think we were having a bit of a tiff, and then I made an impassioned speech, which I piece together part of from memory: "I love you. I'll do anything to keep you. If you want to see other people, that's fine, really. I understand. If you want to do threesomes, that's okay too. Whatever you want. I want you to be happy."

And then we made up and flew on a trapeze out over the stage, startling the Moulin Rouge players.

Later I dreamed that I was a hermaphrodite. I was very interested in my penis, and worked very hard to jerk myself off, because I'd never come before in a manly way. I thought: "Hey, now I can do research for slash stories any time I want." But sadly, I never climaxed.

Hello, Freud.

This passage was in a word doc intended for LJ the other day:
I was sitting waiting for the bus to take me home and I noticed that the bricks at my feet were luminous in the sun, but because of the angle of the metro tunnel roof my legs were in complete shadow. It was just kind of strange.

On the way to the bus I pulled a broken blade of grass from a shrub and played with it, drawing it across my face and lips. It had a rough, minutely serrated edge and felt rather erotic if you want to know the truth, but if I were to write that into a story it would be boring. That's one of my readerly confessions--all those "sexy" passages where one person teases another person with a feather, etc. I usually find them dull. Hair, though--hair is sexy.
Just thought I'd get that out of the way.

This weekend I have to come into work for a little while--mandatory for my team, so I can't laze myself out of my good intentions. And I printed out the last seven stories of noir so that I can refresh my memory and prepare to write. And then there's the Buffy DVDs--I want to watch some of the commentaries. And the QAF finale Sunday night. And by the way, apparently the next season isn't until 2004, maybe even as late as spring. ::pause as Anna stares blankly at the monitor for several seconds, wondering how the hell she's going to live through *that* hiatus::

It's beautifully rainy here in Seattle today, and I'm all about the work, work, work.
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