June 24th, 2003


bed, bed, bed

I said it before, and I'll say it again: shoelaces are handy, even necessary, to many of today's shoe styles. Volleyball player Gabriella Reese is the best athlete in the world in arguably the most difficult of all sports. The Boeing 727 is still my favorite aircraft. I give Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia a B+. Television shows aired last night.

In other words, I found my tape of The Horrors of Spider Island tonight, that I've been hunting down for months. Yeee! Definitely in my top-five MST3Ks. I love to ogle the lush womanflesh of those ridiculously dubbed bimbos. If my love is wrong, I don't want to be right!

I realized Sunday as I was rereading some of my BtVS stuff that I have a tendency to name all my original male characters "Derek." I don't know why. I have no partiality to the name. But in Noir, Rosa's husband was Derek, and Newt's flaky boyfriend was also Derek, and now in Sidelines, Xander's wholesome date is Derek. I need some new names. I think the next wave of men will be called "Bob," as an homage to Valerie, and to this guy Bob I used to know. Prepare for the Bob Clones.

Confidential to A.C. -- I got your e-mail and you are a doll! I hope to write more soon. :)

I am sleepy, but I don't want to go to bed. Also, I still haven't done my taxes. I worry myself.


I am listening to Chris Cornell's "Seasons," a cool song that thete1 turned me on to. It is making me want to get in my car--or at least, *a* car, unlike the one that went into a coma at an intersection the night before last, only four blocks from my house--it is making me want to get in a car and just drive. Like, to New York. With some CDs and a bag of clothes and new sunglasses.

I need a road trip.


subject line #440

Today there was a strong, salty breeze off the bay, and I wandered over to the steak house for lunch and read some more microserfs. I left the book at work, but I had just gotten to the bit where Michael meets "Barcode" and it was just so fucking sweet. It nearly made me sniffle. There was also a great quote about how randomness is actually just patterns too big for our minds to grasp, and that the hardest thing for us to do is give up our belief in randomness. I like that. Even though I currently do believe in randomness, I've had that thought too.

When I was being random the other day, with my ramblings on slash and fandom and stuff, I forgot to include another thought I'd had, which was: we usually talk about sexual orientation as if it's something purely physical, and sex as if it's all about copulation. But now and then I've come across books or essays that suggest sex can be a wider variety of things, a thread of possibility I've also seen in QAF. Like, what if your sexual orientation is on footwear, regardless of gender? And can't sex be phone sex, chatroom sex, mental sex, self-sex? We all know that the way we talk to each other online is often a form of flirting (mad, wild, explicit flirting! she said, looking meaningfully at anniesj). I don't think that often reaches consummation--take that how you like--but who really knows what people do in the privacy of their own rooms?

In a way, redefining your orientation away from the purely human and genital could be seen as making a virtue of necessity--an orientation of solitude--but what if I define myself as bibliosexual? I mean, I get off reading fan-fiction, and writing fan-fiction. Or at least, I get turned on, even if I don't get off during the act. It's very erotic. Watching TV or movies can be erotic, watching vids definitely so--that intense blend of pictures and music can almost help you understand men's fixation on visual porn.

If you don't have one particular person, partner, at whom you direct sexual attraction, maybe your erotic energy gets diffused among other objects of arousal: people, stories, actors, chocolate eclairs. Is that pansexuality? Does it matter at what end you ingest the eclair? Do you have to come to have an erotic experience?

I feel like a cross between Carrie Bradshaw and Dan Savage.

I bought Garnethill, which is a mystery that beth666ann recently recced. Pretty cover: it must be good! I look forward to reading it sometime soon, since BN was out of HP5 when I dropped in tonight.

My Forrest Gump soundtrack--the right one--arrived, and it kicks ass. I put off buying that thing for years--*years*--resisting trendiness or something. Which was stupid. As always. I mean, honestly, here's a similar problem: every single TV show that I have turned up my nose at because it was an adaptation--*every* *single* *one*--I later came to love. I missed being an early adopter for these shows because I assumed that adaptations = badness. BtVS, La Femme Nikita, US QAF.


I think I have watched sisabet's vid now 20 times. I have *listened* to it at least 50, 60. I want to make a catalog of all its clips, all those beautiful moments. Every time Brian's hand slides into Justin's hair and his long fingers work there, my eyes glaze over.

I have decided that I *will* give titles to all the eps. This is my Super Sekrit Project. When I have entitled all existing eps, I will publish them, and beg you all to propagate the meme out onto the web, until it is as firm as canon! Cue maniacal laughter!

::looks both ways secretively, nose twitching like a rat's::

I am very restless.