October 8th, 2003


mostly just kinks

So, I have this weird stabbing pain that is either on the side of breast or under my arm depending on how I rearrange things and I'm freaked out by it and hoping it's just some weird lymph node thing but I'm going to make a doctor's appointment and I don't want to talk about it any more. Also, my fingers and my wrist and my arm hurts, which comes of typing and cramping. I wanted to drink tonight but I managed to stay put until the liquor store closed, watching the Frankenstein trilogy on TMC. We're about an hour into "Bride of Frankenstein" now.

It's been so long that I'd forgotten a lot of the original movie. Some scenes reminded me of Spike--the monster chained up in the cellar, tormented by the hunchback with fire; the way he lashed out in confusion and rage. There was something else. I've already forgotten. Memory is short. But I kept getting Whedony flashes. Other great scenes: the monster and the little girl by the lake, with the flowers. And the one where her father carries her body in.

In "Bride of Frankenstein" the monster gets even more pathetic, lurching around in search of friendship and smiling his big helpless smile. Galumphing through the brush as people keep hounding him off and trying to kill him. Spike, Spike, Spike, you poor big undead freak.

The scenes in the cabin with the blind man kill me. And it's weird, but I think that whole sequence may have been kink-forming. The monster there is mute, hungry, exhausted, lonely, and outcast, and is accepted by the hermit, fed, tended to gently and put to bed, given blind welcome and kindness that brings him to tears. (And now I'm thinking of the great Spike/Buffy story "Love is Blind" by Avalon. Hmm.) Make the blindness metaphorical and that's one of my core kinks in a nutshell.

Sitting here with my laptop I wanted to try and sketch some S/X. (Waves to Herself.) But tonight I keep going, in my inclinations, to the epic AU place and I don't even know where to start. I sit and stare at the white screen and freeze up at "Once upon a time..." It'd take hundreds of pages to tell that story. And my entire right arm down to the fingertips hurts. Which kind of depresses me. As I type this I now and then pause in pain and curse the flesh.

Karloff's face and hands are so beautiful.

So thebratqueen wrote a little S/A for me and got me thinking about kinks. I tend to think my kinks are pretty transparent, but it's been a long time since I set them down in a list. I think kinks and squicks are flip sides of the same coin; I mean, sometimes they are very far apart and distinct, but other times it's a fine and subtle line between one and the other, so I've sort of wandered into talking about both. And then there are things inbetween which are not squicks so much as: "I'd simply prefer not to read X or it kind of distracts me." I'd call those "passes." As you might say to someone in a neutral way: "I pass."

My passes and squicks are idiosyncratic as I think most people's are and should in no way be taken to refer to occurances in any particular story, especially since I rarely remember details. Life is a blur and whatever examples you wrote were probably the exceptions the proved the rule, as skillful writing can render so many things salty and good.

Lists are good. I like to remind myself of what I like. Most of these are slash-specific or strongest when they're slashy, but some can crop up in mainstream contexts--some het movies that hit kink buttons for me include "Pretty Woman," "White Palace," and "The Bodyguard."

I'm trying to think top-down from the general to the specific. It's hard. I tend to meander. (I was going to bullet-point lists, but eh.)

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must control...fist of death

So the rest of all you conscientious people are like, "Defense of Marriage--DIE, SHRUB, DIE!" and "Arnie for governor? EMIGRATE NOW!" And I'm like: if I have to read one more "Slash? Hell, no!" intro post on BetterBuffyFics I will SKIN A DOG AND FLING IT AT SOMEONE.

I don't know what that means. I think it means I recently read Wodehouse's The Man Who Disliked Cats. I'm just pissy. I wouldn't really skin a dog. A person, maybe.

They should retitle that question--change it from "Things I Will Never, Ever Read" to "Let Me Now Demonstrate My Ability to Dismiss an Entire Genre, Typecast Myself, and Alienate Half the List."

But on the subject of more important things--the Defense of Marriage Bullshit--thebratqueen demonstrates yet again why she rocks our world.

My icon is called "pissy_spike," by the way.

But on a happier note, let us exalt the glory and the goodness of shrift.

I should buy a lottery ticket, too.

So I wander off to lunch, wrist-watchless and tired, and sit and chew my sandwich and stare off into space, and eventually drag myself upright and wander back to the office. I sit down at my desk, open up my workspace, and thirty seconds later the phone rings, and it's these people I was supposed to conference call with. I had completely spaced on the meeting being at 1:00 o'clock and it was now 1:40. But the funny thing was, they were cracking up and apologizing to me because (a) they were supposed to dial me in, and (b) they'd somehow miscommunicated and thought that they *had* dialed me in and that I'd been on the call the entire time, because there was someone else named Anna who'd been looped into the meeting. Also, when I pulled the meeting up I noticed there was no Outlook reminder attached by the sender, so I could say with perfect honesty: "Sorry, I spaced on the meeting and there was no reminder!" And yet still be totally off the hook.

At lunch I ate an almond croissant and stared at the cobblestones and thought about Wes taking Spike out for coffee. The UST was steamy.

afternoon angst, minor key

A handful of you may identify with this: how when you're, say, maybe a little premenstrual and you're at work and you put in the first due South CD and you get to the penultimate track, "Fraser/Inuit Soliloquy," and you start to get worked up, more and more, right up to his final line: "...and I think--I think that was the single most courageous act that I've ever seen."

Segue seamlessly into "Dief's in Love," cue tears.

And then music, music, music, the hairs rising on the back of your neck, rifle rising, dog running across snow.