Feb. 25 - Mar. 25 -- First entry -- Earthquake -- In which I am obsessive and make lists. -- Some works in progress -- Mommmm, she's touching me!! -- I make cookies -- Hayes for President -- Who could ask for anything more? -- Feverishly productive
March 25, 2001 (10:35 PM) Feverishly productiveAnd I mean that literally; I've been running a temperature all day. I used to get this all the time. Then when I quit drinking two glasses of Mountain Dew per day, it stopped. Maybe I'm going through sugar withdrawal, because the cookies ran out yesterday. Could be.
Anyway, this is just a note to say that American Pie, the Alex/Kyle slashers' site, is up and running. Comments would be welcome. Thanks.
In the next couple of days I hope to add some covers to the art page and one new pinup to "Guy Candy." But tomorrow's my birthday so I expect to do nothing but go to the movies, hang out, possibly get an ice cream cake. Mmmm.... ice cream cake. I'm sure that'll help my blood sugar.
Hmm, what else. Oh, see the sidebar for Shrift's new URL, and a new link to ZorroRojo, who just started blogging. I was like "dammit, lady, don't make me update the sidebar again." But her first entry was really engaging so... there it is. Woooooo, slashblogs from A to Z. (I'm just nerdy enough to be pleased by that.) Although technically Shrift and Nestra are bifictional (just check out their new domain name!)
Now that I think about it, I'm much more bifictional than I used to be... in that I'm working on, let's see. A Buffy human/demon slash story, a Roswell alien/human hetfic, a Roswell m/f/m story and a Buffy m/f/m story, both with significant het content. *laughs* Why do I *do* this to myself?? I have a hard enough time writing plain vanilla sex with just two regular *human* people involved.
I guess all those stories are still 'transgressive' and smutty and so would still have that slashy vibe (well, except the Roswell hetfic, which is turning out to have more of a Harlequin feel). Yeah, I'll just keep telling myself that.... :)
March 24, 2001 (12:21 AM) Who could ask for anything more?
Pinky is fully into awful-boyfriend withdrawal. So far her strategy for coping consists of compulsively folding pieces of paper, making trail mix out of chocolate chips and peanut-butter chips, and repeatedly watching the Spice Girls movie. Sometimes I watch with her. (Hey, it's fun. I like the bit where the Spice Girls all dress up as each other. And Stephen Fry is in it, for about thirty seconds.)
Also, notice that I have added links to some other slash blogs. I especially like LaT's and Nestra's-- I *knew* I wasn't the only one who watched Roswell! That Alex/Kyle slashers site is as good as done, baby. (It's going to be called "American Pie.")
Oh oh!! I can't *believe* I almost forgot to put this in. This is big news, people. So I'm at this coffeeshop today and I'm reading this movie magazine. And there's this big article about the new Josie and the Pussycats movie. Now, apparently, in the movie, the Pussycats will be coming up against a competing boy band called "Du Jour."
Seth Green plays a member of Du Jour.
Yes. Oz from Buffy. In a boy band. A fictional boy band, but still. Seth Green. Boy band. Could slashers ask for anything more?
But you haven't heard the best part. The directors of this movie were discussing the stereotypical boy band members-- let me paraphrase. "There's the streetwise one with way too many tattoos-- like he's trying too hard. There's the sweet, nice-looking heartthrob. And then there's the one who drew the wrong costume-- the one who's wearing a boa, and glitter, and suspenders, and carrying a cane."
Yes. It's true.
Seth Green plays that one.
Amazing isn't it? Sometimes... sometimes you don't even know you want something, and then it's just handed to you on a silver platter. In suspenders. Carrying a cane. *sigh* Sometimes things are just *so* right.
March 23, 2001 (9:35 PM)
So we've been house hunting for the past ten months and today we finally found one we liked enough for Mom and Dad to make an offer on. It's very nice, bigger than our house but reasonably priced (the people who live there used to live in the country, and they want to move back.) It's about twenty minutes closer to town than our current house. (The drive is nice, very pretty, but after ten years you get so so sick of it, trust me.)
There's a Jacuzzi.
It's much better than the *last* house we liked best, which had the ugliest wallpaper ever. And not just one pattern-- *different* ugly wallpapers in every room. Teal with big pink flowers in the livimg room. The breakfast nook? *Black* with little pink flowers. And that was only to waist level-- then there was a noisy border and a different ugly wallpaper underneath that. The place looked like a dollhouse. And the carpet was bright teal.
Anyway, the good house is much better. White walls, beige carpet, my room would be bigger than it is now, and did I mention the Jacuzzi? *grins* Anyway. We're not sure if we're going to get the good house yet. The people who made an offer on *our* house haven't sold *their* house yet, so all that has to happen before someone else with money in hand makes an offer on the house we want.
Cross your fingers for me, everybody.
March 21, 2001 (5:50 PM) Hayes for President
My big sister Selphie is coming to visit next week! I'm so excited!!! I haven't seen her since Christmas, and the rest of the family hasn't seen her since Thanksgiving. We girls already have plans to go see Pink Martini while they're in town.
Other people's blogs: Today WitchQueen compared keeping one's real life and 'net life separate to the practice of polyamory, which I thought was interesting. Although I find regular sequential relationships to be complicated enough, I don't see anything wrong with WitchQueen's concept of "responsible non-monogamy." (not that she made up the concept, she just defined it in her 'blog.) I mean, when it comes down to it, hell, you only live once. :)
But WQ happened to be commenting on my little crisis two days ago about keeping my 'net life and real life separate. And it's not quite the same situation. I mean, if I were seriously (as opposed to just casually) dating two people, I would definitely feel that keeping both of them apprised of that fact would just be the right thing to do.
But this IRL/net life thing is different. I mean, wouldn't it be nice if I could put my real name, phone number, address and a bunch of pictures of me up on this page, confident in the knowledge that it would never come back to bite me in the ass, either professionally or personally? And wouldn't it be great if I could sit down with my family and say-- well first of all, "I enjoy reading erotica." And then "oh, also? I like writing erotica." And then "And did I mention? Sometimes it's homosexual erotica, or stories that deal with bondage, domination, or other kinks."
But. I can't. The two worlds necessarily exist in, more or less, ignorance of one another.
And lately I've been feeling a little schitzophrenic about that.
WitchQueen said "don't feel obligated to tell us about your mom and sisters if you don't want to." Well, I don't feel obligated to *you*-- *you* meaning not strictly WitchQueen but everyone who's reading this, the audience, the community, 'cause honestly, I don't *know* most of you people. You're strangers.
I guess I'm feeling a little obligated to myself, to try and integrate my life a little. It may be risky to spill the details of my personal life all over the 'net, but it's a hell of a lot easier than explaining fandom to my mother, trust me. :)
And, actually, now that I think about it, there *is* sort of an obligation here-- like a WIP, you come here expecting to find content, and it can be of any sort, it doesn't *have* to be personal. It puts a little pressure on me, but that's good, because I work well under pressure. I tend to produce really good work. And so, thanks to the expectations of my audience (y'all,) I'll be able to come back a year from now and remember exactly when I made the blue cookies, and so on.
Update on the cookie situation: Pinky has officially deemed them "icky." My fiendish cookie hoarding plan is 100% successful.
In fannish thought... I was reading the Best American Poetry 2000 and came across a poem that included a quote from Henry Clay, a Civil-War era American political figure (senator, statesman, Speaker of the House). Henry Clay said "Kissing is like the presidency, it is not to be sought and not to be declined." (the italics are in the poem, they're not mine.)
Which seems to me kind of like the perfect West Wing fanfic quote. Maybe one set while Bartlett's running for president for the first time, but then my mind started to wander into future territory. Of all the people on The West Wing, I thought to myself, who has the best chance of being president, like, fifteen or twenty-five years in the future?
Scarily enough, (although I do like her) I think it's Ainsley Hayes. Seriously, once you get around her right-wingism and the fact that she's a typical Sorkin goofy femme-- why not? (And heck, as long as you're writing an AU, you could easily move her over onto more moderate political ground. I mean, working with Bartlett, how hard is it not to be seduced to the dark side of the force? Or maybe it's more literal: while working in the steam pipe trunk distribution venue, she meets and marries some liberal Bartlett staffer who keeps her more balanced politically.)
And so Ainsley's been a senator or something for a while, and now she's running for President and she pulls Josh and Sam out of retirement or whatever the hell they're doing (Sam is wearing sweaters and living in a Frank Lloyd Wright house... Josh, who knows?) to be part of her senior staff. And it could be that Josh and Sam maybe had a flirtation or a fling back when they were working for Bartlett, but buried their feelings for the good of the administration, blah blah, but of course twenty-five years from now no one cares, even in Washington, so it's a "Josh and Sam *finally* get together" 'fic.
If you managed to get past the President Hayes bit, hey, feel free to take this idea-- write it-- I'll love you forever. *smooch*
March 20, 2001 (10:34 PM)
*sigh* So, I was kind of down today. Trying to help my mother figure out the intricacies of PrintMaster will do that every time. She tries to make a poster or an invitation or whatever, gets frustrated, and I get all "Just move over and let me do it," and she gets snappish, and it's not cool.
Also, Pinky was in a terrible mood because her awful boyfriend was supposed to come over later and drop off the last of her stuff. So she was tense all day, and she came into my room and said "Let's do something! I just want to get this day over with!" So I said "Okay. Let's make cookies." (Well, all right, first I said "What am I, your cruise ship director? Entertain your own damn self!" But then maybe twenty minutes later I felt bad and tracked her down and said "Okay, do you want to make cookies?") and she said okay, but then she got distracted by this iron-on transfer project she's been working on, so I made cookies by myself.
How to make Cookies the Livia Way
-- Get "Cookies in a Jar" from your uncle's girlfriend at Christmas. Seriously, cookies in a jar rule. What is it? Someone else measures out all the flour and sugar and oatmeal and raisins and whatever the hell else into a jar, ties some fabric and ribbon around the top, and voila, Christmas present. All I had to do was add an egg and butter blah blah mix up in the mixer, use the melon baller to scoop out cookie size chunks and you don't even have to get your hands sticky.
-- So then, since it's so easy, get all creative and add some food coloring to the mix. Hint for the selfish: a little blue and a lot of red makes oatmeal raisin cookies look a lot like uncooked hamburger blobs, which turned Pinky (a vegetarian) pretty effectively off the whole batch. Yay: more for me.
-- Feel no guilt. She's trying to lose weight anyway. (Which, now that I think about it, might be why she reacted so colorfully to the "fatass" comment. See previous entry for details.)
-- Sprinkles, too.
-- Try to give Pinky (who's in the dining room, ironing) helpful hints on her iron-on transfer project, like "I said you should have washed the T-shirt first," and so on. When the practice run turns out badly, say "Well, the figure turned out okay-- maybe you could go back to the craft store and touch up the wings with puff paint." Get "Fuck puff paint!" in response. (I'm kind of proud of Pinky; occasionally, she can be as much of a perfectionist as I am...)
-- Watch TV while cookies bake. After the last batch, forget to turn the oven off. Fifteen minutes later, hiss "Son of a bitch," leap up and turn the fucking oven off.
-- Wait for Mom to come home from running errands in town.
Mom: "What are you doing?"
Me: "I made cookies."
Mom: "You made cookies. How domestic, I'm so proud of--" [She's kidding, but then she sees the first batch of cookies cooling on the counter. These are light blue.] "Why are they blue?"
Me: [busy with next batch] I don't know. Because.
Mom: [picks one up and tastes it]
Me: [has not eaten one yet] "How are they?"
Mom: [tactfully] "They're... cookies."
So add to that the PrintMaster thing later in the day, and the fact that Pinky and her ex just ended up calling each other on the phone and having a big loud tearful fight, and I wasn't in a very good mood. But then Selphie called and we talked for a while and I felt better. I told her the "Not at the table" story (see previous entry) and she laughed for at least two minutes, agreeing that it was "a pretty classic story of us," and "sums up our entire childhood."
On a fannish note, I'm kind of interested to see what MightyBigTV.com has to say about Monday's episode of Third Watch. I was like, "ugh, a Carlos episode, yuck," but since Roswell wasn't on, I watched it, and I actually ended up liking large parts of it quite a bit. The bit where he walks into sensitivity training and runs into (who else but) Bosco made me hoot out loud. It was kind of reminiscent of that Daria episode where Daria gets assigned to a class that's supposed to boost her self-esteem, and Jane (like Bosco) has been in the class so many times she knows all the answers by heart. Daria asks, if you know all the answers, why don't you pass the test and get out of the class? Jane replies, "I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special."
(But am I the only one who thinks Bosco looks weird with normal hair? I'm so used to seeing the skinhead look on him, it's like a normal person just sprouted fur on their face. He looks all soft and cuddly and just not edgy or dangerous any more. Weird.)
Oh, yeah, and I updated the Guy Candy page. Angel is new, as is Krycek and Stargate's Daniel Jackson, Nigel Bailey from Relic Hunter, Dan Rydell of Sports Night, some of the boys from Roswell, and I think that's it.
March 19, 2001 (11:55 PM)
Let's have some backstory, aka Mommm!! She's touching me!!!Last time I updated, I hadn't updated in over a week, which WitchQueen duly noted in *her* weblog. Thanks.
The thing is that I'm ambivalent about this weblog thing.
See, I like being "Livia." I like being able to create a persona based not on what I look like, or even what I say (although I do love talking trash on Prospect-L) but my accomplishments-- even if my accomplishment of the day is, you know, say it with me, "amateur gay porn based on a crappy WB/UPN/cancelled five years ago tv show."
I like it that you all don't know if I'm some hot bisexual chick with risque tattoos, or an horny housewife with too many cats, or what.
I spend 24 hours a day being the pathetic webhead who still lives at home with her parents and fights with her sister and doesn't have a car. Why should I carry that persona with me into cyberspace too?
On the other hand, I don't feel like edging around my personal life, censoring myself every time something comes into my head that might make me sound like a loser. Fuck you if you think I'm a loser; you're the one wasting your time reading *about* a loser, okay? Seriously, though, nothing makes me feel better about *my* pathetic life than reading other people's neurotic confessions. So what the hell. Here goes.
I'll be 22 on the 26th. I live at home with my parents and younger sister. I'm so far in the slash closet, I can see Narnia. (Shut up, Ces.)
Which one am I? (You know what I mean. In families with more than one kid, there's the athletic one, the troublemaker, the teacher's pet.) Well, I-- brace yourselves, people-- I'm the good one. (I'd probably be known as the funny one if my parents actually wanted to encourage my habit of making fun of people, which they really, really never have. It's too late now anyway.)
My older sister was the over-achiever. (hmmm. I think I'll call my older sister "Selphie" after the character in Final Fantasy VIII, which is a game she likes to play, and she kind of resembles the character.) So anyway, National Honor Society, triple major in college, that sort of thing. Selphie got married last summer & lives in Washington. I really should e-mail her more often.
My younger sister is the reason I'm the good one. She smokes, she argues politics with my grandmother (Typical Sis comment: "Gloria Steinem is my personal God, and I wish we had socialized healthcare, not for any actual *reason*, but because I'm unemployed at the moment!" Typical Grandma comment: "I wish I could have voted for Alan Keyes.") ....and moved out about a year ago to live with her boyfriend.
This guy... She met him on the 'net, dated him for six months, then started picking fights with the 'rents (purposely breaking curfew by a few hours, etc.) hoping they'd give her an ultimatum-- live by our rules or leave. They didn't want her to move out, but what can you do? They gave her the ultimatum.
So she uses the get out of jail free card and takes off-- the dude shows up with his car and she moves out without so much as a 'screw you.' Six months of angst later, his roommates hate her. They get together and vote her off the island. Well, rather than say "fuck you, roommates," and get an apartment, one where he could live in bliss with my little sis, the dude chooses to send her home. 'Cause apartments don't take dogs, see, and he *loves* his *dog.* Couldn't BEAR to part with THE DOG.
Yeah, seriously, that was his excuse. Of course, now we basically *know* it was just an excuse to start tapering things off-- they "took some time apart," and even I with my pathetically sparse romantic history could pick up *that* signal loud and clear. And now it's over, mostly, though they still call each other, have lunch now and again.
God, I have a hate for this pathetic manboy, the baby-stealing bastard. He's five years older than her, and okay, that's not much, but she's a very naive nineteen, okay? And this is the guy-- think short, smarmy, pot smoking, (--and, okay, I don't have anything against pot smoking in the abstract. Selphie did it with *her* first loser boyfriend, so probably the only reason *I* haven't ever done it is because I had no boyfriend in high school and didn't get invited to those parties. But, okay, if you're gonna do it, put the fucking bong *away* in between times, so that when your girlfriend comes over, she doesn't have to wait for her mother to pick her up on the curb outside your house, okay? Thank you--) cable stealing, Counting Crows bootlegging version of Freddie Prinze Jr., and you got him. Although I doubt Freddie ever made his unemployed ex-girlfriend buy him lunch. That's just the latest thing he did that pissed me off. Dude has a very good job of his fucking own, director of marketing at this specialty foods company-- but he *guilts* little sister into buying him lunch 'cause she wasn't paying rent when she lived with him (one reason the roommates hated her, natch.)
I've told her before, it wasn't like she was entirely freeloading. She had a job most of the time and much as I'd like to pretend I'm not the only virgin daughter, she *was* providing him with *one* particular service, but no. She still feels like she *owes* this prick. She still feels like she has something to *prove.*
Love sucks, doesn't it?
Anyway.
My relationship with my little sister follows sort of a Pinky and the Brain dynamic. She's annoying, bouncy, hysterical, naive, while I'm rational, cerebral instead of physical, crave solitude and order above all, and so on. (bitter. angry. frustrated.) I'm always telling her to just chill the fuck out, to take it down a few notches, to just shut up you're embarrassing me.
Sometimes when I'm feeling generous I'll admit that I envy her bounce, her drive-- it comes from living in the now, being uncensored, just *being* without wondering "what are people thinking? are they looking at me funny?" It's an ability I wasn't born with and which you can never *learn,* and honestly, in this day and age when even Saturday morning cartoons come built in with postmodern-style ironic self-awareness, it's goddamn rare to meet someone who lives purely in the moment.
It's also hellishly annoying to live with that person, especially if you're me.
I think when I refer to her in further entries in this weblog I will call her "Pinky," mainly because it would annoy the hell out of her if she knew. Hee.
We've never really gotten along. Selphie and I are closer together in age, so Pinky always kind of felt left out as a child, which obviously has contributed to her "Look at me!" personality. But since Selphie moved out a couple of years ago for college, we've really gotten along a lot better.
Well, sort of.
Dialogue from dinner with Mom and Pinky, Wednesday night:
[Pinky and I are sitting next to each other. Pinky's leg is touching my leg, which bugs me.]
Me: Move over, you're touching me.
P: [scoffs. Does not move.]
Me: Would you move over?
P: Chill out! [Still does not move, although she has plenty of room.]
Me: You're in my space. Move!
Mom: [looks at Pinky with raised eyebrow]
P: [moves over about two inches. Then eases back till she's touching me again. This makes me laugh, but I still want her to move.]
Me: Come on, would you move your ass, fatass!?
P: Button your shirt, whore!
Okay, that sounds a little harsh when I type it out. But we were both laughing, and a conversation that goes something like, "Going to the kitchen? Get me a Coke." "Get it yourself, fattie." "Hoochie." "Bitch." is actually pretty commonplace and can usually take place between us with no hard feelings on either side. It's from back from when we were kids and our parents came down so hard on bickering, they wouldn't even let us say "Shut up" to each other. Of course this just made us even more vicious to each other in private, and it ended up being sort of a shared bonding thing. Anyway, this leads back to Mom's reaction...
Mom: [sends full force of silent disapproval at Pinky]
P: [sputters] She can say ass but I can't say whore!?
Mom: Not at the table!
Mom's a tough crowd... but she's actually mellowed a lot.
Also, just to put the 'whore' comment in context, I was wearing a modest, dark brown, long-sleeved button-up sweater, with the top button unbuttoned because, see, I have very nice breasts. *grins* No, seriously, the sweater was a Christmas present from Mom, I think, (so, you see, very *not* whore-like) and it's very nice, but it is just the tiniest bit tight across the bust line, probably because I haven't worn it that much, so. Top button, unbuttoned.
I forget what Pinky was wearing. Probably a T-shirt.
Oh, did I mention we were in a restaraunt at the time?
Yeah, we're very bad kids, really.
So there you have it, folks: my pathetic life. Live at home. Virgin. Never smoked pot. Don't even have my own ex-boyfriend to rant about.
Check back for thrilling updates.
March 18, 2001 Some Works In Progress.
Angel: Thinking seriously of writing Wesley/Gunn story centered around Wesley getting shot in "The Thin Dead Line." Have about 3k of one sketchy scene so far.
Buffy: Have about 20k of a Xander-Anya-Riley threesome story (working title: "Holiday"). No clothes have even come off yet. But as soon as I have a free day, I'm there.
Sentinel: have about 85kb of a story tentatively titled "Home." Am stuck on the ending, and just beginning to realize that it doesn't need an ending, it needs a whole second act. Ack.
Right now am rather disgustingly on fire with "Roswell" fanfic. I'm not arguing with the muse. Just taking the ball and running with it.
Have about 68K of a "ten-years-from-now" future story called (unimaginatively, yeah) "Reunion." Several characters are dead. Kyle is gay. I've written some Jim/Amy scenes that I really like. Dreamers and Candygirls will cry.
Have about 19k of a prequel to "Reunion" which is going to be Max/original female character. The tag line of this story is: "Pissing off everyone equally-- Dreamers, Rebel Alliance, and Peanut M&Ms." :)
Explanatory note for non-Roswell fans: It's hard to have character codes for a show where three of the main characters have the same initial. Take a story labeled M/L-- is it canon Max/Liz schmoop, unconventional but still het Michael/Liz, or slash Maria/Liz? So all the ships have cute little names now, which I find utterly charming. Maria/Liz slashers are Waitresses because they work together, Max/Liz shippers are Dreamers because Liz is Max's dream girl, Maria/Michael fans are Candygirls (or M&Ms) because of their initials, and Max/Michael slashers are Peanut M&Ms. (Because, they're harder. and. uh. nuttier. I'm not making this up.) And so on.
Anyway. Having just written a story where Kyle and Tess express sibling-esque affection for one another, I've got about 7k of a story where there's some Michael/Tess/Max action with a little Kyle thrown in. The tag line of this story is "Freeing my inner slut."
And mostly done is an Alex/Kyle first time called "The Gambler." It's set during "Viva Las Vegas." Halfway through writing it, I switched POV from Kyle to Alex to better facilitate drooling over Kyle. Yeah, I have a big yen for Kyle... (Am also thinking of putting together site for Alex/Kyle 'shippers.)
Also am thinking of writing Michael story for Kate Bolin's "Dead Letters" challenge. (On this page I highly rec "Human," a dead letter from Xander written by Insomnitic. *SNIFFLE*)
*sigh* Anyway. It feels so good to be productive, but I really should do a sequel to Trouble Child on the Buffy page and finish up the Prelude to Winter/Ways to Fall series on the Due South page.
What's dead: my Stargate movie story. Was Daniel/Sha're, was coming along nicely until I realized I was basically rewriting my Galaxy Quest Fred/Laliari story, right down to the language difficulties... "Failure to communicate" is a theme of mine, I've realized. It's even in my Mary Sue story Tangerine Fairchild's License to Kill. If you want to know me, forget this weblog-- read that story!
March 05, 2001 (11:20 AM) In which I am obsessive and make lists.
All fanfics cited are Sentinel. All lists are in random order.
Best First Kiss
The Fifth Sense by Justine
Woe is You: Pine and Stew by Mallory Klohn
Listen by Valentin
Ocean by Rhipodon SocietyBest expression of "I love you" that doesn't use those exact words
The Sharper Edge by Miriam
Blair Is Brave by Geoffrey
Fruit of the Vine by Aristide
Bother by FrancescaBest Endings/Last Lines
Sand by VG
Waking by Resonant
Bakari by Alyjude
Demolition Woman by Betty PlotnickBest Dark or Sad or Melancholy Stories (try not to read these all in a row, guys)
Circle by Aimee
Letting the Record Speak by Rhipodon Society
Paying Silence by Mairead Triste
Damned by Virg Vaughn
Floating by Rhipodon Society
Stranger Than Kindness by Laura JV
Torn by cmshaw
A Positive Sign by Gillian Middleton
Snow for Christmas by Jane Mailander (not on the net)February 28, 2001 (2:35 PM)
There was a 7.0 earthquake that hit ten miles from Seattle this morning. I live near Portland, and we got a little shook up, but I'm fine.
According to the news there don't appear to be any injuries or much damage in Portland at all. For me, it was actually pretty cool. I had time to think "Is that the garage door? Why is the house shaking?" and then sit there for a while thinking "Noooo! Not an earthquake!" and then run down the hall and watch things in the house moving around before it ended. (Mostly little things like flowerstems in a vase jiggling.)
Although it does give me cause to doubt my own survival instincts. Yeah, that's what you should do in a quake! Run to the top of the stairs and stand next to a heavy bookcase!
But seriously, it wasn't that bad; I didn't even get kicked offline. ^_^
My lazy slasher dilemma of the day: what to do? I could watch Richard Burgi guest starring on PAX TV's "Twice in a Lifetime," or I could watch the premiere of "Some Of My Best Friends..." which is the TV version of "Kiss Me Guido." I'll probably watch the Burgi thing. I hear he plays a boxer which means we may get shirtlessness, possibly some sweaty scenes. Really, it doesn't matter. I would watch Richard Burgi in anything. If he were in a sequel to "Starship Troopers," I would watch it.
*shudder* Okay, I just freaked myself out. Note to Hollywood. Please do not make a sequel to "Starship Troopers."
February 25, 2001
My first entry in this blog. Today I rearranged some things at my site-- made some of the art more accessible from the front page. Also added this. I had been toying with the idea of a weblog for a while, but kind of hesitated because of two things. One, I am the utter prototype of the slash fan with no life, so I probably wouldn't have much to write about. Two, the name. "Blog." Sounds so appealing. Three, everyone will get to see how much I overuse words like "utter." Also, I can't count.
But what the hell.
Today I added "Guy Candy" to the site. Anyone who wants to see scantily clad women in provocative poses can get Maxim and Gear and Bikini magazine, but there's just a lack of really nice boys doing the same thing.
I take it upon myself to fill the gaping void.
I've actually been on a huge art kick lately. To the neglect of some of my fanfic. I think I'm a better artist than writer anyway. Well, I have good technical skills in both, and when you're doing photomanipulations, technical skill is 90% of what you need.
Why is it that some fandoms are art-oriented and others aren't? I can think of two people who do Sentinel photomanipulations-- Mrs. Fish, a gen writer whose URL I don't have handy. Also the Theban Band, but they're really more X-Files, Once a Thief oriented.
On the other hand, if you go to the Roswell site "More Sugar," a site devoted to the Isabel/Tess relationship, there's like ten different people doing photomanips of this one pairing. Go to a Max/Kyle site and it's the same thing.
Is it because Roswell fans are younger and maybe more likely to have/be somewhat skilled with sophisticated graphics programs? I mean, in all the long history of Sentinel fandom, there's got to be at least a few people who had Photoshop.
Is it because there's more material available for these guys? They're in teen magazines all over the place, they did Levi ads, there's pages and pages of nice promo shots on the WB page. So there's all this stuff to work with, which we didn't really have in TS fandom.
Which also brings up the question, what's the point of pasting Isabel's (aka Katherine Heigl's) head on a naked body when she's already posed topless in Maxim?
Maybe there's less photomanips in TS because there's sort of this uncomfortable balance in the fandom between keeping a respectful distance the actors who play Jim and Blair, and, like, asking them to hug at conventions. A lot of Sentinel fans have actually met these guys, or their co-stars, stunt doubles or stand-ins. Maybe once you've done that you feel too close, somehow, to comfortably create nekkid pictures of them.
Or it could just be (and this is my problem) that it's hard to find a good short, furry body to stick Blair's head on. (Photos of tastefully nekkid boys are always accepted. E-mail me with your favorite URLs.)
I have stories to beta today. I'm going to update my site and then do that.
