Me: Baby, random question: can we breed pigs for super intelligence?
BF: I don't see why not? They're fairly smart to begin with.
Me: Yay! I shall devise elaborate intelligent tests for them and breed them based on their wit and charm.
I wonder if they taste worse as they get smarter?
Me: :-( YOU CAN'T EAT THE SMART ONES. You can eat the dumb ones who fail.
BF: FIIIIIIIIINE
Me: <3
BF: <3
Friday, August 27, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
ugh
I've written myself into a corner. There is nothing quite so acutely obnoxious as discovering that there is no real way to go forward without going back to the beginning. I mean, unless I want the book to end with one of the guys going into exile or dying or starting an ahistorical war. Which I could do, I guess, but then it's not really a "happily ever after" romance novel any longer.
I think I've figured out how to solve the problem, but that means going straight back to the beginning and changing a bunch of stuff, which isn't something I should be doing while I'm in the writing stage, yet it's necessary. So obnoxiously necessary.
On the upside, hopefully once I'm done with this I can start moving forward again.
Monday, August 23, 2010
dream home
It's important to have dreams, because dreams are what keeps us going even when we're in the midst of the darkest places in our lives. Having lost everything I own (save a pair of pajamas and my cat), I've been in one of those dark places for a while now. Luckily, I have a dream. This:
It's silly, but a little farm with a bunch of freakish animals really is exactly what I want. And knowing that I have someone who shares that same dream and will be right there with me (he'll have to take care of all pig duties as I refuse to have anything to do with them) makes even the darkest places just a little brighter.
Monday, August 9, 2010
my hero
Gawker said it best:
Among the great disappointments of modern life is the fact that something as fun as a giant inflatable slide springing from the side of a massive flying machine exists—but may only be used in near-death situations, when one is least inclined to enjoy it.
Today, by sliding down that slide in a decidedly non-emergency situation, flight attendant Steven Slater became the most awesome man in the service industry. Ever.
A passenger hit him in the head with luggage, refused to apologize, and called him a motherfucker. But did Slater suck it up and deal with it and continue on accepting the abuse like hopeless wage monkeys have been forced to do before him?
Fuck no!
He got on the PA system and told everybody--but most especially the man who'd called him a motherfucker--to fuck off. And then he grabbed two beers from the galley, popped out the inflatable slide, and slid into history.
From there, he grabbed his luggage, got in his car, drove home and hopped into bed with his boyfriend. I'm sure after hearing about what had transpired, his boyfriend was a bit intimidated by Slater's giant titanium balls, but somehow he got over his fear.
Sadly, the story ends with Slater being arrested for criminal mischief and trespassing. This man doesn't deserve to be arrested, America: he deserves a medal for being so awesome.
Steven Slater, I salute you.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
the brain wall
Of all the things Allie has posted on Hyperbole and a Half, this post most accurately reflects what my life is like.
On Tuesday, I wrote over 7000 words. On Wednesday, I wrote 4000. On Thursday, 2000. On Friday, 2000. And then on Saturday...well, honestly, I've just been sitting around in my pajamas playing games on Facebook.
I feel like I've been running a marathon, trying to finish this book. It's gone from a labor of love to one of spite. Goddamnit Book, I say to it when no one is around to think I'm insane, you're the only work in progress to survive the fire and I will finish you.
Allegedly, the brain uses 1.5 calories a minute while hard at work. So if I sit here and write nonstop for seven hours like I did on Tuesday, my brain is only using 630 calories all day long. That doesn't seem like it should exhaust a person, right? But calories are only part of the deal. See, I think willpower is kind of like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it gets, but that's in the long run. If you exercise it too much or don't give it time to recover, it's going to be weak from overexertion and then it might tear or get injured or something.
This has absolutely no factual basis behind it whatsoever and is just some crap I made up, but I'm going with it. My willpower is cramping up and in need of a massage and possibly a day of rest and maybe just maybe a pizza.
And on the Seventh Day C.D. said, "Let there be rest." And it was good.
(yes, this is all just an elaborate justification for being lazy. SHUT UP I DON'T WANT TO BE SELF-AWARE)
On Tuesday, I wrote over 7000 words. On Wednesday, I wrote 4000. On Thursday, 2000. On Friday, 2000. And then on Saturday...well, honestly, I've just been sitting around in my pajamas playing games on Facebook.
I feel like I've been running a marathon, trying to finish this book. It's gone from a labor of love to one of spite. Goddamnit Book, I say to it when no one is around to think I'm insane, you're the only work in progress to survive the fire and I will finish you.
Allegedly, the brain uses 1.5 calories a minute while hard at work. So if I sit here and write nonstop for seven hours like I did on Tuesday, my brain is only using 630 calories all day long. That doesn't seem like it should exhaust a person, right? But calories are only part of the deal. See, I think willpower is kind of like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it gets, but that's in the long run. If you exercise it too much or don't give it time to recover, it's going to be weak from overexertion and then it might tear or get injured or something.
This has absolutely no factual basis behind it whatsoever and is just some crap I made up, but I'm going with it. My willpower is cramping up and in need of a massage and possibly a day of rest and maybe just maybe a pizza.
And on the Seventh Day C.D. said, "Let there be rest." And it was good.
(yes, this is all just an elaborate justification for being lazy. SHUT UP I DON'T WANT TO BE SELF-AWARE)
Thursday, August 5, 2010
my masterpiece
I started working on a novel before the fire. I'd actually had a BUNCH of novels that were either finished or nearly there. Unfortunately, I am a secretive person and don't like sharing my stuff until I absolutely have to and my oh-so-carefully kept backups were all in the house.
But! All was not lost. I'd happened to email the first two chapters of a novel to my boyfriend because I wanted his opinion on whether or not it was too weird. And so I had at least the start of something left over from before the fire.
Well, usually I write a hell of a lot faster than this but, you know, homeless, trauma, etc. It was hard to get into the right mood.
Finally, I'm writing again. I remember why I sent this to my boyfriend and worried about it being too strange, though. I mean, interracial is hot, right? People like that. Except my two races are Hittite and Egyptian. And I think the Hittite might have PTSD. And this all takes place during the reign of Ramesses II against a backdrop of decapitations and prisoners of war.
Oh yeah. And it looks like the relationship might be a BDSM one.
...yeah.
Sometimes I catch a brief glimpse of exactly why I'm so poor. Luckily the lucidity doesn't last very long.
But! All was not lost. I'd happened to email the first two chapters of a novel to my boyfriend because I wanted his opinion on whether or not it was too weird. And so I had at least the start of something left over from before the fire.
Well, usually I write a hell of a lot faster than this but, you know, homeless, trauma, etc. It was hard to get into the right mood.
Finally, I'm writing again. I remember why I sent this to my boyfriend and worried about it being too strange, though. I mean, interracial is hot, right? People like that. Except my two races are Hittite and Egyptian. And I think the Hittite might have PTSD. And this all takes place during the reign of Ramesses II against a backdrop of decapitations and prisoners of war.
Oh yeah. And it looks like the relationship might be a BDSM one.
...yeah.
Sometimes I catch a brief glimpse of exactly why I'm so poor. Luckily the lucidity doesn't last very long.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
birth of a hobo
I was not always a hobo. In fact, I used to live in a great big beautiful Queen Anne house. It had bay windows and a secret room and a chandeliere.
And then it burned down.
That was the night of April 29th and I'm still waiting for my insurance money. Which means I'm doing things like sleeping on a floor with my cat and washing my underwear in the sink. But being a writer, I had to go and buy a laptop or else I was just shooting myself in the foot. And that's how I came to be homeless and clothesless and sitting in coffee shops on the Internet.
I'm not as homeless as I had been (okay, technically I'm not homeless at all these days) which is good. Today marks several awesome new things:
1. I received a royalty check. I'm not gonna brag, but this thing is nearly big enough to pay for dinner at Subway.
2. I got a secondhand, twin-sized bed with a huge pee stain. YES.
3. The genuinely awesome thing: U.S. District Chief Judge Vaughn R. Walker ruled that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional on both Equal Protection and Due Process grounds. This is a huge, huge win. I'm sure it'll be appealed, but I'm that much closer to being able to marry my boyfriend.
God, I wish I was back in California with him so we could fag out and make out in front of city hall. <3
And then it burned down.
That was the night of April 29th and I'm still waiting for my insurance money. Which means I'm doing things like sleeping on a floor with my cat and washing my underwear in the sink. But being a writer, I had to go and buy a laptop or else I was just shooting myself in the foot. And that's how I came to be homeless and clothesless and sitting in coffee shops on the Internet.
I'm not as homeless as I had been (okay, technically I'm not homeless at all these days) which is good. Today marks several awesome new things:
1. I received a royalty check. I'm not gonna brag, but this thing is nearly big enough to pay for dinner at Subway.
2. I got a secondhand, twin-sized bed with a huge pee stain. YES.
3. The genuinely awesome thing: U.S. District Chief Judge Vaughn R. Walker ruled that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional on both Equal Protection and Due Process grounds. This is a huge, huge win. I'm sure it'll be appealed, but I'm that much closer to being able to marry my boyfriend.
God, I wish I was back in California with him so we could fag out and make out in front of city hall. <3
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