July 3rd, 2005


things that have made me happy recently

- polished rocks
- a yard full of roses
- shooting baskets
- the movie Mumford
- energy
- the song "I Can See Clearly Now"
- restaurants with outside decks
- google
- the smell of green living things
- glass rings
- zombie movies
- wabi-sabi
- iced tea
- ice
- burnt cream gelato
- Pessoa
- dogs and cats
- used bookstores
- the convenience of paper towels, Kleenex, toilet paper, trashbags
- "pleased with my imperfection" -- Handke

love me, love my miscellany

I normally avoid fannish source meta--meaning, I'll go out of my way to avoid watching actors on talk shows, or reading interviews or articles, or trying to derive meaning from industry gossip, etc. Once in a while, though, meta makes me squee. Like reading that old interview with Richard Burgi where he said that his character and Blair's should kiss someday; or watching them kiss on the Sentinel blooper reel; or finding out that Joss Whedon encourages fan-fiction.

The meta of the moment is this, passed on to me by popfantastic and sherrold, from smallbeer and fmangel:
"Victor Garber attended an Alias fan gathering in London, and the following moment was described: Victor was asked who the better couple were - Jack/Sloane or Sark/Sloane and got a big laugh by saying that he would choose Jack/Sark because if he had to kiss Ron Rifkin he'd kill himself! He also mentioned that he and MV have a joke that Vaughn and Jack will end up together."
me --> .....!!!!!!!.....

I am one with the subtext.

Things I overheard in downtown Seattle today:

- "My nose gets lonely."
- "...hamsters...in small bowls..."
- "Judge not lest ye be judged."
- "I guess she thought I was going to be on her side."

Post of the day: The new phone books are here! by inapickle. Hee.

Neurotic fears of the day: What if I suddenly start thinking of myself in the third-person and can't stop? What if I get the hiccups and can never get rid of them? What if I'm going down a set of stairs and I trip and knock my teeth out?

I also vaguely worry when a passing stranger smiles at me and I don't react fast enough, I don't smile back in time. Did I just kill the next five minutes of their day? Will they brood on why I didn't smile back and then, later, look at themselves in the mirror, critically, and wonder if they're a bad, cruddy person whom no one will ever love?

In a swerve to total mundanity: I did clean-y things today, involving closets and laundry. I want to be writing, but I can't quite get there.

Oh, and for the last few days I've had this thing going on where for periods of time I find myself having to breathe deep and hard from my diaphragm--a physical imperative. What *is* that?