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19 February 2004 @ 08:08 pm
reaper boy  
I think valerie_z has mentioned this story at least a dozen times and it was the dozenth time that did the trick and finally got me to go read it. Repetition can work. I am susceptible to repetition. Repetition is good. You will learn to like repetition. Repetition, repetition. If I type it often enough it starts to sound like a drum rap.

So I went to read Reaper Boy (scroll to the end for the story's beginning, for in its end is the beginning, she said gnomically and rather idiotically because parantheticals always make me absurd) and it was good and it made me cry. I held out to the end and when I started to see the finish line I thought, hmm, I don't know, she doesn't have much time left to get the tears going. But she got them in under the wire. Sniffle.

I think the story works even for people who haven't watched "Dead Like Me" though perhaps you need to be a QAF fan.

So far all I've eaten for dinner is Blue Diamond Smokehouse Almonds. For lunch I had mad cow. Non-organic beef, that is. In a bun. With a special, dubious sauce. Tasty, all around.

I look back over the last several posts I've made and they feel lackluster, as if I've been going through the motions. I wonder when I'll start to feel enthusiastic again. It's weird being out of synch with fandom--everyone watching Angel, I mean, when I'm not. But on the other hand, I am now up to my third tape of unwatched episodes, so at some point when I watch them, it'll be marathon city, and maybe it will feel like a bonus--like if we were suddenly to learn that ME shot a handful of extra BtVS episodes, in secret, and they were being released on DVD. When I was young I used to have a recurring dream of finding unread Star Trek novels in used book stores, back when the tie-in novel series was just getting started and there'd been only a handful of oddball titles up to then like Fate of the Phoneix, so ridiculously slashy.

Food. I need food. Food, fan-fiction, other good things that begin with F.
 
 
 
Not so much Fallen as Sauntering Vaguely Downwards: btvs_classic druelfgirl on February 19th, 2004 08:19 pm (UTC)
Haven't read the story yet, but I have to say -- that's the best paranthetical clause I've ever read.

Seriously.
Nannandibble on February 19th, 2004 09:06 pm (UTC)
So you have a secret dream bookstore, too! Mine is located in the belowground subway-station concessions/stores in NYC: in dreams, I always knew right where to find it, though it doesn't exist. I read a whole imaginary Clarence E. Mulford "Hopalong Cassidy" novel there once, in what seemed like realtime. That was during my Westerns phase, that lasted through college. Haven't been there lately; is it still as welcoming as I remember? It is, of course, the same bookstore--it just moves.

torchflambeau on February 20th, 2004 07:47 am (UTC)
flambeau? :)

I'm in the same country you are! Can you see me if I wave?
Anna S.eliade on February 20th, 2004 08:22 am (UTC)
Re:
Eeee! :>D I was thinking of you last night. I was looking at your moose and thinking of you.

(I'll let you ponder that for a bit.)
I am not the fine woman you take me for: Reaper Boywrenlet on February 20th, 2004 09:05 am (UTC)
I thought, hmm, I don't know, she doesn't have much time left to get the tears going. But she got them in under the wire.

Is it bad that this made me giggle? Thank you :)
Tisiphonetisiphone318 on February 20th, 2004 09:40 am (UTC)
Fate of the Phoenix
When I was young I used to have a recurring dream of finding unread Star Trek novels in used book stores, back when the tie-in novel series was just getting started and there'd been only a handful of oddball titles up to then like Fate of the Phoneix, so ridiculously slashy.


I just had to comment. I read this book when I was in high school, on the cusp of the eighties, before I even knew there was such a thing as slash. And I was really struck by the slashiness. It was a kind of WTF response. I even wrote a letter to the two ladies who wrote the book to ask them if they meant what I thought they meant. But I never mailed it. I was, and ever shall be, a lump.

Tis.