June 10th, 2003



What does it mean that I got unfriended by three people at once? Unlike certain vampires, I haven't killed anyone, but now I will be all soulful and brood about my possible sins.

I thought I'd sent myself, here at work, some URLs for BtVS stories I wanted to rec. But I was wrong. However, my popslash odyssey continues. These last few days, it's all I've been reading. I read a great story by Betty Plotnick, though "great" is kind of an unnecessary adjective, since of course there is no such thing as an ungreat story by Betty Plotnick, in any fandom, but anyway, this story, Unarmed, is one of those bittersweet, whipped-cream-and-espresso concoctions I so admire. And there are no author's notes about it to provide clues, but I found it astonishingly resonant with QAF characters in a way that may be quite deliberate. How else to explain why this Lance/Justin story reads so very much like a take on the Brian/Justin arc? Well okay, cosmic synchronicity perhaps, instead of clever homage, and if it wasn't deliberate it makes the story no less wonderful. But like finding S/X parallels in Lust Over Pendle, the ghosts of fannish crossovers create another level of engagement for me. I like seeing these affinities.

I also read a bunch of Julad's stories, including At First Sight, which was self-referential and very cool and made me cry.

In other news, I've decided after years of confusion to use the term "fanwank" to mean whatever the hell I want it to mean, deliberately, with full knowledge that it can mean other, more confusing things. So when you see me use it from now on, and you think I'm using it wrong, no need to tell me. Because I'm doing it on purpose.

So there.

talky mouth

I have been randomly reading other people's LJs, an intrepid explorer in the world beyond my friends list. _dellamore, a member of sxandviolence, had a post on her slash history that rang all kinds of bells with me. I wonder how many other women there are out there, feral fen dreaming of boinking boys, who haven't yet touched base with a community. I like to think: hordes. However, on the question of how many women exist under the age of twenty who write so lucidly, and with neat punctuation, I suspect: not so many.

It's kind of interesting how many people seem to be members of sxandviolence who aren't part of the BtVS community I'm more familiar with; I mean, I'm just guessing, but I look for familiar overlap of user names, and don't see it, and I find it fascinating that people are sort of hanging out on the fringes, and it makes me wonder if that's by choice and they're happy there or just aren't sure how to "come in." Except just because they're on the apparent fringes of one place doesn't mean they're not in the center of somewhere else. I am being, um...commucentric, perhaps.

cbking notes that a new sequel to New Boy is up. I loved, loved, loved the first few stories of this series--which is by Two Ladies of Quality, though the web site seems to have no author names--and lost track of it. Now I have it again. There are links to the latest stories at the bottom of the page. It's Spike and Giles, and Spike/Giles, and Giles, your friendly neighborhood vamp. And okay, I haven't read the last few installments, but I feel safe in reccing it. Safe as houses...on the Hellmouth...yeah, you know what, never mind. Read it anyway.

elinora has the most gorgeous mood icons I think I've ever seen.

djinanna_recs reminds me that I've also been meaning to rec piedmargaret's new S/X WIP, Insight, of which there's currently a part one and part two. I can't wait to read more of this. There's something about the dusty road and the diner and the sun beating down on Xander's parched self that rips the buttons from my shirt and sends them bouncing around as my heaving chest is revealed...what I'm trying to say is, I like realism. I especially like it applied to fantastical universes and otherworldly creatures, because I think the borderland where the real smashes into the unreal is one of the most interesting places to inhabit.

I want to wave to 10zlaine. I'd claim it was for no particularly good reason, but in fact she's written me more than one great e-mail that I don't think I've ever answered, and she lives in Maine, and I'm from Maine. And I'm random.

_reema is kind of a hoot, I notice. I am trying to decide which of these is funnier: "You're drowning. If you write a sub-thesis, I will lend you my motorboat, and/or a bunch of these foam rescue things," or, "Precalculus is fun." ::Anna makes devil sign against demons of math:: Also, she apparently watched Chasing Amy with her parents. I think you get a medal for that if you write to Miramax.

My friend anaxila ("mostly effective when administered from the first day of disease manifestation") made some gorgeous icons the other day, which I've been meaning to point out, and asks about the proper use of the word "pimp." Anna uses the word in a sentence: "I pimped QAF to Amy and now she is jonesing for it bad, the darling little crackwhore."

On that note, cerdd_gwen asks, "How much Queer as Folk is too much? ... I've been conducting research on this all day long and have yet to find the answer. It's another few hours before I go to bed, so I have until then to continue testing." Tomorrow night A. & S. and I will start watching season two. I'm psyched. There will also be fried chicken. At first, it was going to be friend chicken, but then I realized I'd made a typo. Which is a good thing. Because there's a whole cannibalism subtext there I'd like to ignore, plus we've already made the requisite Chicken Lady jokes today.

flangirl ponders the question and possibly the religious implications of who's fucking you. Am I going to get her into trouble by putting her innocent question in this context? And if someone tells me to "fuck off," what does that mean? ("How shall we fuck off, O Lord?")

ginmar has a cool and interesting post about actions versus words, and [and apparently my thought just trailed off here, so I'll leave it at that].

gwynnega is also watching QAF. I'm making a list now. To no particular end. Just because it cheers me. And of course this may be something I should have known already from comments, but um, I have a bad memory. In fact most days I forget where I work and end up wandering around down by the harbor docks come nine a.m., mewling like a lost kitten until longshoremen pick me up under their beefy arms and carry me to my cubicle. I've never dared admit this before now. I feel much cleaner.

After reading several entries in lovessong's LJ, I decided it was time to friend her. (Confidential to lovessong: If you're wondering what entry tipped the scales, it was, "If you want to read about my brother and speculations on gay bestial plushie sex, check out casseigh's lj, here." Because yes, yes I do want to read speculations on gay bestial plushie sex. And kudos to you for knowing that. Sadly it appears the entry is gone, but I forgive you and will friend you anyway. Because you also wrote a great story about a snake that begs those age-old questions: "Don't steal others' snakes while drunk? Don't drunkenly hurl snakes? Plush snakes, while fuzzy and good neck warmers, may terrify elderly relatives?")

And all the rest of you, see how easy it is? I'd friend you if you wrote about gay bestial plushie sex. Really, I would.

Okay, no I wouldn't. I'm sorry. Because if I friended everyone it would be mere hours before I'd die, suffocated under a tribblelike deluge of entries. I realize I suck for not figuring out a savvy filters thing and friending everyone who has friended me, but there you go. I'm lazy. Don't unfriend me, please? I am feeling especially neurotic today. Do you hate me now? Do you, do you? "Friending" is such a touchy issue. Some people don't have me friended, and I don't care. Other people don't have me friended and I sometimes wonder about that. In general, I try to ignore it while paying close attention to it while biting my nails and balancing plates on my head.

crickwooder has an entry on the BtVS episode "Family," and she's right, it's one of those sleeper eps, always better than you remember when you rewatch. And I am always surprised to be reminded that Joss wrote it. I got caught up reading the transcript on psyche a few weeks ago and was cracking up every few lines. Great dialogue.

So, back to BtVS recs. I discovered that janedavitt has a new story up in her Predatory series, Preying on My Mind. (S/X) There is much good here. I think the fancy narrative footwork is inventive and fun, proving that canon is more elastic than we sometimes think. Jane's main slash page is here.

Also, I've been clutching the pleasure of reading Kalima's Nicolette Says Jump to my ample bosom. (I bought a bra today. I am 42DD. Shut up.) It's one of those stories that seems almost unnecessary to rec, because surely everyone's read it, right? It's like the poster-boy story for the "I don't read slash, but I really liked this" contingent, a group of readers that gets a bad rap, because while I do see the backhanded slap of a compliment in that sort of rec, I think these people are fun to woo and startle. Plus, god knows, I've made remarks like that often enough myself. ("I don't usually read Lilah/Cordelia, and in fact I think you L/C shippers are on crack, but...") Anyway, Kalima's story is fantastic, and I like my slashy dishiness in all flavors, so I'm perfectly happy with the idea that Spike and Xander really can't stand each other and need to be blissed-out on X to get it on and will never look each other in the eye afterwards, and that's kind of spoilerish, isn't it, but I bet you've all read it, so never mind. For the rest of you, that summary should be an incentive.

Also, in the S/X trifecta--am I using that word right? probably not, but I like it and want to use it often--WesleysGirl finished Seeing Distant Things As If They Were Close, which made me think about hair-washing quite a lot. In a good way. It really is a dreamy, lathery sort of pleasure.

auroramama, I owe you e-mail in the worst way. It is coming. In the meantime, I kiss you here in public.

Herself, I am flaming suckpig on a stick for not reading what you sent me last night. Don't hate me, please?

Other than the above transgressions, I feel semi-virtuous because I've talked about people other than myself for a change. No matter that I was killing time in the way I usually do, postponing the inevitable attempt to climb back on the writing horse as well as the need to lift myself out of this desk chair.

...lift myself...out of this chair...

If anyone needs me, I'll be slowly sliding down my spine.

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