Monday, June 29, 2015
carmilla.
carmilla
i did carmilla.
and this new one.
i was all "fuck all this shit. fuck it all. this shit? fuck it!" until chapter 11. out of like 38 or something. i hope they figure out how much they're fucking it up.
but i'm kind of getting it, so i'm not so so hard "fuck it" as i was. i'm going to go watch episodes 12-38+, so i might totally change this around, but right now, i'm giving it a weak "go see this".
if you care.
if not, i'm going to give you a super sweaty hug!
*gross!*
Sunday, June 28, 2015
omg i am dying
there won't be any stories up in the near future. it is fucking a billion degrees, and doing anything more than "sweating to death" is too much effort. you said the trades would be back last week, kanoe. there were no trades. today you're like, "whoops! honolulu didn't have a record, but the other islands did!" make the sky suck less, kanoe.
i'm also thinking (once it cools down and i can catch up some) that i should start making story "traps." the idea is that once i have the outline finished, i schedule that as a blog post for a year in the future. then, if i slack off and don't write the story in that year, the outline just goes up and i admit that i'm bad at this. i think that provides a bit more incentive to actually sit my butt down and write some.
which i would have today during the hours of nothing to do that i spent dying from the heat. i'm going to blame the heat for why this morning's dream stories were all horror when i intentionally went back to snooze expecting sexy-fun dreams.
and i was dumb on friday night and logged in to a dating site i haven't used in years, and immediately got a message that i've been ignoring. i should really have a pre-written "i'm sorry that i'm terrible at being a human being" note to send when that happens.
i'm also thinking (once it cools down and i can catch up some) that i should start making story "traps." the idea is that once i have the outline finished, i schedule that as a blog post for a year in the future. then, if i slack off and don't write the story in that year, the outline just goes up and i admit that i'm bad at this. i think that provides a bit more incentive to actually sit my butt down and write some.
which i would have today during the hours of nothing to do that i spent dying from the heat. i'm going to blame the heat for why this morning's dream stories were all horror when i intentionally went back to snooze expecting sexy-fun dreams.
and i was dumb on friday night and logged in to a dating site i haven't used in years, and immediately got a message that i've been ignoring. i should really have a pre-written "i'm sorry that i'm terrible at being a human being" note to send when that happens.
six early morning half asleep horror dreams
"nightmares" i guess is the word. then two links.
1. "61:12"
i'm leaving a meeting at work, and turn the corner in the hallway, only to be stopped by someone from high school. i haven't seen her since then. "they're having sex!" she maniacally cackles at me.
"what?"
she points down at a pile of three pink throw pillows next to the wall. "they're having sex!"
i wander away, and try to find my office. i open a door, and inside is a brightly decorated place, with all sorts of plants and photos and filled in calendars. "whoops, wrong office," i think to myself. "good thing no one was naked inside." i go down a few more doors, and open my office. it's completely empty except for my desk and a cardboard box. it's a drab grey color, and it seems to suck all the color out of everything. i go in and sit down.
i wake up with a start, realizing that i must have fallen asleep at work. i look around, but the office door is closed, so no one would have seen me sleeping. i look at the clock, and it tells me it's 61:12 o'clock. i get up to look at it, and i see outside the window that the sky is the color of fire, and everything else is a ashy grey color.
2. "eyes"
i'm at home, watching stuff on youtube. my laptop screen flashes, and then goes black. i jab at the keyboard to make it come back, and it shows like three different half illuminated scenes all at once. the video i was watching, words typing, and some other video. they're overlaid and mixed together, like it's trying to display all of them at the same time. i close and open the screen to make it reset, and it eventually switches back to the youtube video. but it's all wrong. the tv show or whatever it's from doesn't work right. characters stop mid sentence and turn to look at me. it then switches to a different scene, but they all degenerate the same way.
3. "eyes 2"
i've just gotten out of the shower, and i'm using the one towel that's just slightly smaller than my other towels, so it's hard to pull around and keep closed. but i'm also at work, and two people from another department have stopped by. "we need you to do this thing for us," they start. it doesn't matter that they're not my boss, and that i have no idea how to do what they want because it's not something i know how to do, they keep insisting that i have to do this for them. while i'm trying very hard to not be completely naked at work.
more people stop by, and set up a conference around my desk. at least while i'm sitting, i only need to keep one side totally covered. there are like seven other people talking, and i kind of fade back, letting them all shout over each other about this project they want me to do. i look up, and they're all staring at me. not talking, not doing anything else, just staring. they way they're doing it, it's no longer like they're seven people, but just one mind with seven appendages.
this is the point where i realize that i know it's a dream, and that i can do things. i'm the thing they're attached to. i make them all flail their heads around and gibber. i look away and look back, and they're staring again, but they have no eyes. i look away and look back, and all their faces are scrambled. a mouth is added to replace an eye. eyes replace noses. but due to some reason, the eyes are identical, as are the mouths. i can only replace things if everything is the same across all of the people.
4. "car"
i have some friends at my house. we're going to go somewhere. i'm going to drive, but my car is filled with trash. "give me a minute, and i'll clear this out." i start throwing empty water bottles and fast food napkins into a trash bag, but things don't seem to get better. by the time i have the front seat done, it's been like an hour of work. no one else seems to be helping, so i try to see what they've been doing.
i get out of the car, and there is a table and chairs set up in the parking space next to mine. "where did that come from?"
"your trunk"
"i don't have that. put that back, because my neighbor might come home and get angry that she can't park in her space." i start to work on the back seat, but they keep taking more furniture out of my trunk, cluttering up the entire garage. i walk around, and one of the friends is closing the trunk lid. "stop that! i want to see inside!" she stares at me while she closes the trunk, but before it shuts, i see that there's just a black nothing inside it.
5. "return flight"
i'm coming home after visiting friends, and i'm trying to check in at the airport. but there aren't any regular check in lines, just a maze like room filled with different machines. there are workers standing around, but none of them are helping people find a machine or anything. they're all labeled like "only for GZYP!" and "MMM users!" none of that makes any sense. i finally stop at one labeled "for YM" and try to check in. i fumble for a card, and it beeps, and shows my name. the screen turns on, but it's facing the ceiling, so it's at a weird angle for me. i see it's hinged, so i pull it up so i can see it better. however, instead of just being flat, it's showing me like a 3d projection of the plane, with my seat highlighted. as i move the screen, everything overlaps because they just rotate with the screen. "it's for taller people," i say to myself.
i keep trying to check in, and i notice that the plane is too short. those tiny planes don't fly to hawaii. i click on something, and it shows that i'm flying from san francisco to oakland, then to boston, london, and tokyo. i start to panic, because it's like all the places i've ever looked at to fly to are in this one ticket. i look around to see who i can talk to to change it so i can just go home, but no one seems to care. my breathing speeds up, and i can feel the panic attack hit.
i slump over the machine, and look up to see a group of people walk up to an old lady. "let us help you get this all sorted out," they say to her. i wave wildly at them, struggling to not choke as my panicked breathing flutters in and out. one of the workers looks over at me, frowns, and then continues to ignore me.
6. "ghosts"
i've somehow got some gunk on my fingers, and need to wash it off. i walk to the "bathroom" in the apartment building (that isn't mine, and i'm not sure what it is). i see someone who helps me get the door open, and i walk in and turn on the light. it's not a real bathroom, but a long hallway that turns to the right. in the corner, there's a sink though. i walk down to the sink, and glance down past the corner, seeing two or three people going into their rooms.
i wash my hands, keeping my back to the wall because something feels weird. i look back down the hallway, and there are now clearly two people going into their room. one is a very old man, and he walks in a halting stumble. just as he gets to the door, the woman further down the hallway glides to her door. i look over to get some paper towels, and i look back the way i came. a short pregnant lady is walking towards me, then turns, and goes to her room.
i look back behind me, and the old man and woman have reset, and are returning to their rooms again. i start to walk back to the doorway, pausing slightly to avoid the pregnant woman, and then dashing past as she reaches her door.
===
maybe not the best, or even properly scary if you don't have the half-asleep brain state, but since they all piled up this morning, i felt i either had to write them down or proper wake up to flush them out of my head. i'd forgotten the car one until i started writing, and went back to add that back in.
anyway, link 1. i think i've linked to this before, but hopefully everyone is reading the sunstone stuff at deviant art. it's really good stuff. bondage, sex, realistically misunderstood feelings and relationship stuff. this one was particularly funny to me.
link 2. i saw it this morning and it made me giggle, so i'm sharing it here for you too. i hope pswkua does more short story stuff.
1. "61:12"
i'm leaving a meeting at work, and turn the corner in the hallway, only to be stopped by someone from high school. i haven't seen her since then. "they're having sex!" she maniacally cackles at me.
"what?"
she points down at a pile of three pink throw pillows next to the wall. "they're having sex!"
i wander away, and try to find my office. i open a door, and inside is a brightly decorated place, with all sorts of plants and photos and filled in calendars. "whoops, wrong office," i think to myself. "good thing no one was naked inside." i go down a few more doors, and open my office. it's completely empty except for my desk and a cardboard box. it's a drab grey color, and it seems to suck all the color out of everything. i go in and sit down.
i wake up with a start, realizing that i must have fallen asleep at work. i look around, but the office door is closed, so no one would have seen me sleeping. i look at the clock, and it tells me it's 61:12 o'clock. i get up to look at it, and i see outside the window that the sky is the color of fire, and everything else is a ashy grey color.
2. "eyes"
i'm at home, watching stuff on youtube. my laptop screen flashes, and then goes black. i jab at the keyboard to make it come back, and it shows like three different half illuminated scenes all at once. the video i was watching, words typing, and some other video. they're overlaid and mixed together, like it's trying to display all of them at the same time. i close and open the screen to make it reset, and it eventually switches back to the youtube video. but it's all wrong. the tv show or whatever it's from doesn't work right. characters stop mid sentence and turn to look at me. it then switches to a different scene, but they all degenerate the same way.
3. "eyes 2"
i've just gotten out of the shower, and i'm using the one towel that's just slightly smaller than my other towels, so it's hard to pull around and keep closed. but i'm also at work, and two people from another department have stopped by. "we need you to do this thing for us," they start. it doesn't matter that they're not my boss, and that i have no idea how to do what they want because it's not something i know how to do, they keep insisting that i have to do this for them. while i'm trying very hard to not be completely naked at work.
more people stop by, and set up a conference around my desk. at least while i'm sitting, i only need to keep one side totally covered. there are like seven other people talking, and i kind of fade back, letting them all shout over each other about this project they want me to do. i look up, and they're all staring at me. not talking, not doing anything else, just staring. they way they're doing it, it's no longer like they're seven people, but just one mind with seven appendages.
this is the point where i realize that i know it's a dream, and that i can do things. i'm the thing they're attached to. i make them all flail their heads around and gibber. i look away and look back, and they're staring again, but they have no eyes. i look away and look back, and all their faces are scrambled. a mouth is added to replace an eye. eyes replace noses. but due to some reason, the eyes are identical, as are the mouths. i can only replace things if everything is the same across all of the people.
4. "car"
i have some friends at my house. we're going to go somewhere. i'm going to drive, but my car is filled with trash. "give me a minute, and i'll clear this out." i start throwing empty water bottles and fast food napkins into a trash bag, but things don't seem to get better. by the time i have the front seat done, it's been like an hour of work. no one else seems to be helping, so i try to see what they've been doing.
i get out of the car, and there is a table and chairs set up in the parking space next to mine. "where did that come from?"
"your trunk"
"i don't have that. put that back, because my neighbor might come home and get angry that she can't park in her space." i start to work on the back seat, but they keep taking more furniture out of my trunk, cluttering up the entire garage. i walk around, and one of the friends is closing the trunk lid. "stop that! i want to see inside!" she stares at me while she closes the trunk, but before it shuts, i see that there's just a black nothing inside it.
5. "return flight"
i'm coming home after visiting friends, and i'm trying to check in at the airport. but there aren't any regular check in lines, just a maze like room filled with different machines. there are workers standing around, but none of them are helping people find a machine or anything. they're all labeled like "only for GZYP!" and "MMM users!" none of that makes any sense. i finally stop at one labeled "for YM" and try to check in. i fumble for a card, and it beeps, and shows my name. the screen turns on, but it's facing the ceiling, so it's at a weird angle for me. i see it's hinged, so i pull it up so i can see it better. however, instead of just being flat, it's showing me like a 3d projection of the plane, with my seat highlighted. as i move the screen, everything overlaps because they just rotate with the screen. "it's for taller people," i say to myself.
i keep trying to check in, and i notice that the plane is too short. those tiny planes don't fly to hawaii. i click on something, and it shows that i'm flying from san francisco to oakland, then to boston, london, and tokyo. i start to panic, because it's like all the places i've ever looked at to fly to are in this one ticket. i look around to see who i can talk to to change it so i can just go home, but no one seems to care. my breathing speeds up, and i can feel the panic attack hit.
i slump over the machine, and look up to see a group of people walk up to an old lady. "let us help you get this all sorted out," they say to her. i wave wildly at them, struggling to not choke as my panicked breathing flutters in and out. one of the workers looks over at me, frowns, and then continues to ignore me.
6. "ghosts"
i've somehow got some gunk on my fingers, and need to wash it off. i walk to the "bathroom" in the apartment building (that isn't mine, and i'm not sure what it is). i see someone who helps me get the door open, and i walk in and turn on the light. it's not a real bathroom, but a long hallway that turns to the right. in the corner, there's a sink though. i walk down to the sink, and glance down past the corner, seeing two or three people going into their rooms.
i wash my hands, keeping my back to the wall because something feels weird. i look back down the hallway, and there are now clearly two people going into their room. one is a very old man, and he walks in a halting stumble. just as he gets to the door, the woman further down the hallway glides to her door. i look over to get some paper towels, and i look back the way i came. a short pregnant lady is walking towards me, then turns, and goes to her room.
i look back behind me, and the old man and woman have reset, and are returning to their rooms again. i start to walk back to the doorway, pausing slightly to avoid the pregnant woman, and then dashing past as she reaches her door.
===
maybe not the best, or even properly scary if you don't have the half-asleep brain state, but since they all piled up this morning, i felt i either had to write them down or proper wake up to flush them out of my head. i'd forgotten the car one until i started writing, and went back to add that back in.
anyway, link 1. i think i've linked to this before, but hopefully everyone is reading the sunstone stuff at deviant art. it's really good stuff. bondage, sex, realistically misunderstood feelings and relationship stuff. this one was particularly funny to me.
link 2. i saw it this morning and it made me giggle, so i'm sharing it here for you too. i hope pswkua does more short story stuff.
Friday, June 26, 2015
i'll probably have more to say about it later, but
today was a good day.
yesterday was good too, when they said that just because of a typo, millions of people won't get kicked off their insurance. reading the news, it sounded like a lot of people were angry, because they wanted people to suffer.
but hearing today that they also decided that just because some people are stupid, doesn't mean everyone doesn't deserve to be treated the same. like, first off, duh. but to have it set into the law that no matter where you go in the country, you get to be treated the same. i'm crying now, but it's a good cry.
on the radio driving home, they had people arguing that "now gay people are going to be discriminating against the people who didn't want them to get married! they're the bad guys now! religion!" what?
no?
what?
if i (suddenly got sufficiently less crazy to form a proper relationship, find someone who didn't mind the remaining crazy, and decided that i) wanted to get married, i'm not going to go into like, "snake-handling speaking-in-tongues it's-your-own-fault-you-were-raped" church, and be all, "hah! i got you now, intolerant jerks! you've got to marry me now! rules! laws! boom! where's your god now?"
like, in what world do people do that?
i'd probably skip the church thing, or we'd find one that was cool with the whole thing. why would you want to do something like that with jerks around?
see, that's why this has been dumb since the beginning. it's never been "gay people against religion." it's just that so many people think that if everyone is treated the same, somehow they don't win as many religion points or whatever. "i can only do my religion if i make sure you know that i don't like you in the most public way possible." right. great. go be awful someplace else.
anyway, i'm going to get drunk and try not to cry anymore tonight.
yesterday was good too, when they said that just because of a typo, millions of people won't get kicked off their insurance. reading the news, it sounded like a lot of people were angry, because they wanted people to suffer.
but hearing today that they also decided that just because some people are stupid, doesn't mean everyone doesn't deserve to be treated the same. like, first off, duh. but to have it set into the law that no matter where you go in the country, you get to be treated the same. i'm crying now, but it's a good cry.
on the radio driving home, they had people arguing that "now gay people are going to be discriminating against the people who didn't want them to get married! they're the bad guys now! religion!" what?
no?
what?
if i (suddenly got sufficiently less crazy to form a proper relationship, find someone who didn't mind the remaining crazy, and decided that i) wanted to get married, i'm not going to go into like, "snake-handling speaking-in-tongues it's-your-own-fault-you-were-raped" church, and be all, "hah! i got you now, intolerant jerks! you've got to marry me now! rules! laws! boom! where's your god now?"
like, in what world do people do that?
i'd probably skip the church thing, or we'd find one that was cool with the whole thing. why would you want to do something like that with jerks around?
see, that's why this has been dumb since the beginning. it's never been "gay people against religion." it's just that so many people think that if everyone is treated the same, somehow they don't win as many religion points or whatever. "i can only do my religion if i make sure you know that i don't like you in the most public way possible." right. great. go be awful someplace else.
anyway, i'm going to get drunk and try not to cry anymore tonight.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
remember when i bought underwear and toilet paper?
i think something's weird with the toilet paper. like they changed it to be softer or something. more on that when i sit down and compare the new stuff against the last roll of the old stuff.
EXCITING!
but this post is about different stuff.
--
me, watching cashier scan things, and swiping my card to pay, since target is one of those places you can just swipe, and then it sorts itself out without shitting itself at the end. you know how that works, Longs? no. no you fucking don't. jerk: ""
cashier: "oh these are great, i love how they're just the right size for a meal"
me, looking at the hot pockets i'm buying: ""
cashier: "or, like you can have a quick lunch before you head out!"
me, remembering when i waited for the frozen aisle to clear so i could hastily grab two boxes of hot pockets and stuff them in my cart when no one could see me: ""
cashier: "sometimes, i like to have them for a snack in the afternoon, when i'm feeling a bit peckish!"
me, trying not to think about how i'm totally eating two of them for dinner, because i kind of just want a bunch of fat and enough protein that i don't feel hungry when i go to bed: ""
people next in line: "wow that girl is buying just like underwear, toilet paper, hot pockets, and vodka. she totally has her life in order."
no, not really on that last part, but the rest is pretty much all true. i have never not felt weird buying hot pockets, and i have never had anyone call me out like i was buying some sort of super fancy green "health juice".
it was super weird.
EXCITING!
but this post is about different stuff.
--
me, watching cashier scan things, and swiping my card to pay, since target is one of those places you can just swipe, and then it sorts itself out without shitting itself at the end. you know how that works, Longs? no. no you fucking don't. jerk: ""
cashier: "oh these are great, i love how they're just the right size for a meal"
me, looking at the hot pockets i'm buying: ""
cashier: "or, like you can have a quick lunch before you head out!"
me, remembering when i waited for the frozen aisle to clear so i could hastily grab two boxes of hot pockets and stuff them in my cart when no one could see me: ""
cashier: "sometimes, i like to have them for a snack in the afternoon, when i'm feeling a bit peckish!"
me, trying not to think about how i'm totally eating two of them for dinner, because i kind of just want a bunch of fat and enough protein that i don't feel hungry when i go to bed: ""
people next in line: "wow that girl is buying just like underwear, toilet paper, hot pockets, and vodka. she totally has her life in order."
no, not really on that last part, but the rest is pretty much all true. i have never not felt weird buying hot pockets, and i have never had anyone call me out like i was buying some sort of super fancy green "health juice".
it was super weird.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
ugh
i'm supposed to be putting together a stupid presentation for work, because i didn't finish it last week.
instead i just spent like two hours reading comics by the guy who did nana to kaoru. not the actual chapters of that that i haven't read yet ("you're supposed to be working, and you're like 8 chapters behind") so instead i read 25 volumes of other stories.
and the one i was kind of enjoying ends, and they're not together anymore, and now i'm grumpy due to not having a satisfying happy ending. :(
i know it probably all works out in the end, and the comic ends with them happy and everything's wonderful, and that i have to be patient because someone has to get the japanese version, translate it, stick in the english words instead of the japanese words, and then upload it somewhere so i can read it, and that's not automatic, but i'm still grumpy.
grump.
instead i just spent like two hours reading comics by the guy who did nana to kaoru. not the actual chapters of that that i haven't read yet ("you're supposed to be working, and you're like 8 chapters behind") so instead i read 25 volumes of other stories.
and the one i was kind of enjoying ends, and they're not together anymore, and now i'm grumpy due to not having a satisfying happy ending. :(
i know it probably all works out in the end, and the comic ends with them happy and everything's wonderful, and that i have to be patient because someone has to get the japanese version, translate it, stick in the english words instead of the japanese words, and then upload it somewhere so i can read it, and that's not automatic, but i'm still grumpy.
grump.
Friday, June 19, 2015
this is a post
telling you that i'm mostly ok, but like "sammy ok", so you know. like that.
i'm not sure about making that one post come back, because i really didn't remember writing it until i got the comment notice. i don't like admitting dumb stuff, and i did some there. i'll try to be less dumb. sorry.
and i might randomly post a story that's an "exhibition" story, but is like five parts in the future. mostly because it kind of all tumbled out of my brain on tuesday night, and it might be good to get it out while i have the ideas all together. plus, i'm kind of stuck on part "the next parts that i had the idea for, planned out about half of, and then had my brain go dumb."
also i had a big thing on racism and stuff, but i couldn't put it together in a way that didn't sound stupid. so. um. don't be racist. it's bad. i sound stupid, but maybe don't be racist. if you are. you're probably not. so. hey. awkward.
good news that i tried to make a post for today sober, but then didn't because i couldn't:
i went to target and bought toilet paper and underwear!
*crickets*
no, see, this was a big deal. back when my brain was junk, but not like super junk, i would often go to target after work, buy stuff that i needed, and then go home, ignoring the time that i got home.
but then super-junky-brain, and i couldn't work up energy to go anywhere that wasn't directly between work and home to get stuff. so you then buy toilet paper at longs, where it's like $11 for a roll.
"you should get a costco membership, sammy. they're cheaper than target, too"
ok, no, because costco that way is fucking crazy all the time, and costco the other way is like the other side of the island.
so blah. i wanted to share, without really having much to share.
have a cookie.
i'm not sure about making that one post come back, because i really didn't remember writing it until i got the comment notice. i don't like admitting dumb stuff, and i did some there. i'll try to be less dumb. sorry.
and i might randomly post a story that's an "exhibition" story, but is like five parts in the future. mostly because it kind of all tumbled out of my brain on tuesday night, and it might be good to get it out while i have the ideas all together. plus, i'm kind of stuck on part "the next parts that i had the idea for, planned out about half of, and then had my brain go dumb."
also i had a big thing on racism and stuff, but i couldn't put it together in a way that didn't sound stupid. so. um. don't be racist. it's bad. i sound stupid, but maybe don't be racist. if you are. you're probably not. so. hey. awkward.
good news that i tried to make a post for today sober, but then didn't because i couldn't:
i went to target and bought toilet paper and underwear!
*crickets*
no, see, this was a big deal. back when my brain was junk, but not like super junk, i would often go to target after work, buy stuff that i needed, and then go home, ignoring the time that i got home.
but then super-junky-brain, and i couldn't work up energy to go anywhere that wasn't directly between work and home to get stuff. so you then buy toilet paper at longs, where it's like $11 for a roll.
"you should get a costco membership, sammy. they're cheaper than target, too"
ok, no, because costco that way is fucking crazy all the time, and costco the other way is like the other side of the island.
so blah. i wanted to share, without really having much to share.
have a cookie.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
i liked this story.
"Its all about socks". unfinished versions of unfinished pages.
you should probably check the labels to see if this is the kind of story you want to read too. i've been in an off moodrecently, and this clicked with me.
you should probably check the labels to see if this is the kind of story you want to read too. i've been in an off mood
Sunday, June 14, 2015
that was fun.
it's always great to have tears running down your face in the movie theater.
even more so when you have to suppress a sob because you know it'll be loud and obvious if you don't. then a quick walk back to my car and a drive home, firmly holding together a frown to keep everything in.
then some regret that you got the medium soda, because theater medium is huge, even if it's still too small for being $5.75, because now you super have to pee when you get home.
finally, there's the point where you realize you need to wipe now, because a new sob is coming, and you probably shouldn't bawl on the toilet.
crawl into bed, hug body pillow, stuff kleenex at face, cry for ten minutes straight.
i guess what i'm saying is that if you can (it's not in a really wide release, and never will), you should go see "when marnie was there."
even more so when you have to suppress a sob because you know it'll be loud and obvious if you don't. then a quick walk back to my car and a drive home, firmly holding together a frown to keep everything in.
then some regret that you got the medium soda, because theater medium is huge, even if it's still too small for being $5.75, because now you super have to pee when you get home.
finally, there's the point where you realize you need to wipe now, because a new sob is coming, and you probably shouldn't bawl on the toilet.
crawl into bed, hug body pillow, stuff kleenex at face, cry for ten minutes straight.
i guess what i'm saying is that if you can (it's not in a really wide release, and never will), you should go see "when marnie was there."
Thursday, June 11, 2015
wow it's super late, how drunk are you, sammy?
not enough? or not normal drunk? turns out if i don't take sleepy pills, i don't get sufficiently sleepy.
which means i'm in that weird place between "not drunk enough to be incoherent" and "too panicked to say anything".
part of it is that i have a day off tomorrow, because hawaii is great, and we had a king, and he did a bunch of stuff, and so now i get a thursday off.
not friday though. so back to work for a totally productive day on friday. hawaii doesn't slide holidays around.
since i'm so wonderful at writing stuff, and totally not waiting a year to write things i've planned out, i'm thinking about doing a new story.
but like, not really porn.
just romance, i guess. also maybe horror. i have a weird brain, and nothing can ever be not not wonderful if not also tragic.
the idea would be to actually plan an entire story from start to finish, and then start writing, instead of my random incremental stuff. i have not done much of that planning at all, so i'll have to put some effort into not being stupid about this.
so, you know, we'll all see how it goes. maybe i write more, and people read it and like it.
maybe i don't.
which means i'm in that weird place between "not drunk enough to be incoherent" and "too panicked to say anything".
 |
| "somewhere in that zone" |
part of it is that i have a day off tomorrow, because hawaii is great, and we had a king, and he did a bunch of stuff, and so now i get a thursday off.
not friday though. so back to work for a totally productive day on friday. hawaii doesn't slide holidays around.
since i'm so wonderful at writing stuff, and totally not waiting a year to write things i've planned out, i'm thinking about doing a new story.
but like, not really porn.
just romance, i guess. also maybe horror. i have a weird brain, and nothing can ever be not not wonderful if not also tragic.
the idea would be to actually plan an entire story from start to finish, and then start writing, instead of my random incremental stuff. i have not done much of that planning at all, so i'll have to put some effort into not being stupid about this.
so, you know, we'll all see how it goes. maybe i write more, and people read it and like it.
maybe i don't.
 |
| i really just wanted the first frame, where elsa is doing a shruggy pose, but google image search only had this, which has words. and is also a gif, so it's way more positive and empowering than i was hoping for. mostly just that one shrug, ok? |
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
"I love your stories because they are about love."
ok, so everyone follows key/hollow well/best writer around currently, right? go do that now.
key is wonderful, and accepts that i'm not, and coalesces a brilliant story around the characters.
but i'm not.
because i have so much crazy in my head. there's a lot of nonsense that pecks at my brain all the time.
so i drink a lot, and freak out a lot, and try to make people not like me, because they like me for a reason, and i can't handle that emotion pointed at me.
i wish i wasn't so fucked up. sorry.
but then i switched over to the secondary story that i've been ignoring for a year because it didn't work for me, but then my brain started being shit again, and that level of humiliation worked for me.
"I love your stories because they are about love."
no it's not, it's about this crazy humiliation hospital where people get trapped and have a bunch of forced enemas, and it's all weird and creepy and totally not legal in the real world because we have consent in reality.
"I love your stories because they are about love."
nope!
"I love your stories because they are about love."
"are you a couple?"
nicole starts to shake head, sammy reaches over to her and nods.
i wrote that almost a year ago. even then, the point of the story really wasn't the humiliation. it was the acceptance of the love from nicole to sammy.
my stories actually are about love.
huh.
like, i wasn't fucking expecting this. this is like being punched in the face and discovering that you have teeth that work better.
key is wonderful, and accepts that i'm not, and coalesces a brilliant story around the characters.
but i'm not.
because i have so much crazy in my head. there's a lot of nonsense that pecks at my brain all the time.
so i drink a lot, and freak out a lot, and try to make people not like me, because they like me for a reason, and i can't handle that emotion pointed at me.
i wish i wasn't so fucked up. sorry.
but then i switched over to the secondary story that i've been ignoring for a year because it didn't work for me, but then my brain started being shit again, and that level of humiliation worked for me.
"I love your stories because they are about love."
no it's not, it's about this crazy humiliation hospital where people get trapped and have a bunch of forced enemas, and it's all weird and creepy and totally not legal in the real world because we have consent in reality.
"I love your stories because they are about love."
"I love your stories because they are about love."
from my notes:
nicole starts to shake head, sammy reaches over to her and nods.
i wrote that almost a year ago. even then, the point of the story really wasn't the humiliation. it was the acceptance of the love from nicole to sammy.
my stories actually are about love.
huh.
like, i wasn't fucking expecting this. this is like being punched in the face and discovering that you have teeth that work better.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
why?
my computer crashed, and it took way longer than usual to reboot, and i think it's dying.
my grandfather actually is dying. i've been avoiding going to visit, because it's always hard to see someone who you remember being so big and jolly being super thin and cranky.
i'm more afraid of the computer dying, though, because it doesn't suffer from going on and on.
this is why i'm a bad person.
i only have two states now. full bore panic attack about everything. i spent three hours this afternoon trying to figure out what i wanted for lunch. at the point when i decided i was actually trying to figure out what i wanted for dinner is when the panic hit. how do i fight that? i have food at home. i can drive anywhere i want to get food from a restaurant. i could go to the grocery store and buy stuff to make food, if i wasn't so messed up that i don't want to cook anymore.
and now i'm having a panic attack because i have to get up early to prepare for a conference at work, and then i have to do work stuff, and i just don't want to most days.
in any case, it's about time for me to move on to my only other state, so i can push the panic away long enough for some sleep. see you on the other side of all this vodka. sorry i'm so incoherent and stupid when i'm drunk. thanks for putting up with me. sorry i can't pull myself out of my depression to deal with people when i'm not drunk a lot of the time. i worry that i'll say something stupid, so then i wait until i'm drunk, when it's pretty much guaranteed i'll say something stupid.
no comments on this one, because i know everyone would say nice things, so i'll just pretend you said nice things and it made me cry knowing how wonderful you are. see? look! there are the tears now! it's like a miracle!
my grandfather actually is dying. i've been avoiding going to visit, because it's always hard to see someone who you remember being so big and jolly being super thin and cranky.
i'm more afraid of the computer dying, though, because it doesn't suffer from going on and on.
this is why i'm a bad person.
i only have two states now. full bore panic attack about everything. i spent three hours this afternoon trying to figure out what i wanted for lunch. at the point when i decided i was actually trying to figure out what i wanted for dinner is when the panic hit. how do i fight that? i have food at home. i can drive anywhere i want to get food from a restaurant. i could go to the grocery store and buy stuff to make food, if i wasn't so messed up that i don't want to cook anymore.
and now i'm having a panic attack because i have to get up early to prepare for a conference at work, and then i have to do work stuff, and i just don't want to most days.
in any case, it's about time for me to move on to my only other state, so i can push the panic away long enough for some sleep. see you on the other side of all this vodka. sorry i'm so incoherent and stupid when i'm drunk. thanks for putting up with me. sorry i can't pull myself out of my depression to deal with people when i'm not drunk a lot of the time. i worry that i'll say something stupid, so then i wait until i'm drunk, when it's pretty much guaranteed i'll say something stupid.
no comments on this one, because i know everyone would say nice things, so i'll just pretend you said nice things and it made me cry knowing how wonderful you are. see? look! there are the tears now! it's like a miracle!
to narrow things down
old people are awful.
i will one day be old, barring active actions to prevent that possibility on my part.
but one day, i'll probably be old (or dead).
but let's consider the old one, sammy, and hey, while we're at it, maybe stop being a jerk for once!
anyway,
old people. why do they always like, fuck young children, and hate foreigners, and think gay people cause hurricanes?
seriously, if i could make hurricanes, you'd fucking know it. i'd be just like, "oh, is it hurricane season?"
"no, sammy, it's christmas"
"OOPS, MOTHERFUCKING HURRICANE SHITTING IN YOUR FACE, JACKASSES@!"
really. i'd be calling down the storms on all the fuckers. but no, we're not magic witches with super powers. that'd seriously be super cool. i could write stories about that for years.
ok
breathe.
so hey, did you see me fucking panic my ass off on friday night?
no? oh, that's because i sent that all to the place no one else can see. here's how things worked.
i had a shitty week at work.
followed by a super shitty friday.
so i went home.
and remember how months ago i told you how i outsmarted my anxiety about having dinner by putting frozen dinners i liked in my freezer?
yeah. i decided i didn't like any of those.
"get some pizza."
i didn't want pizza.
"sammy, i'm not getting what your point is here, so"
SHUT UP!
i always like pizza. pizza is like my best friend who never tells me i'm a drunk. pizza and vodka. the three of us are super tight, yo.
so me sitting in my car, thinking about food, and pizza doesn't turn me on? this is a fucking existential challenge. who am i if i don't want pizza?
i love a tumblr about pizza and porn. it's like someone kissed my tears away and in doing so, made my perfect happy land.
so i'm sitting there, hating the horrors of frozen food, and also not wanting pizza. i drive mindlessly, eventually pulling into taco bell.
taco bell, "we're sorry you're here too, but at least we have some nacho cheese. we hope that helps."
it did. as much as tbell can do. you're not magic, tacos. and quesadillas. and those quesadilla burrito things that look like so much work i can't imagine they're not full of spit.
so, hey. that's how my friday went, and that's why you might have seen me writing tumblr posts about drunk driving to denny's on the other side of the island.
"don't drive drunk, sammy, that's how murder happens!"
duh. i was angry because i was so drunk i couldn't go eat food that would totally give me super shitty runs. i may hate myself (and a lot of other people), but i'm not going to put everyone in risk of me running them over. i'm not a monster.
what was my other point?
honestly, there was a whole rant to put here about brown food. not like "sammy, you're gross and like scat, stop being gross." it was about how frozen/microwave food isn't brown. you for-realsies cook food until it's brown, so it has that "brown flavor". so you know it's good. that's better than what i cobble together.
which makes me sad for the days when my brain was organized enough to actually sit down and cook for myself. i did a bit on that last vacation. it was good and brown, and i hate that i can't get my brain to work right so much of the time.
"sammy, you should get helpers!"
so, what i need is like a 1950's wife. someone who lives at home while i go do work shit, and makes sure we don't get bugs (too late) or live in filth (too late) and makes sure i don't run out of clean clothes (it only counts if you get caught). i think maybe i make enough to pay people to do those things? how much does a fake wife cost? do you have to pay more or less if you give them hugs?
what else is on the "you should talk to a therapist sooner than next month, sammy" list?
oh! i wrote some more. do you all remember "spa treatment"? no? you should look it up from a year ago when i totally stopped writing anything on it. i put in a third of a half of a chapter, which means i need to stop masturbating to my own stories. also, maybe lookup pipelining on gelbooru. i'll do a link when it's closer. but like, check out the concept to make sure you're on board before you start reading.
it's kind of hard when you write things and rub yourself raw, and then remember that most people would be disgusted by what you come up with. i'm sorry, everyone. i'm super sorry people who have said nice things about me. i wish i was a better person than i am.
i kind of wish i had a taco right now.
i'm...sorry. :(
i will one day be old, barring active actions to prevent that possibility on my part.
but one day, i'll probably be old (or dead).
but let's consider the old one, sammy, and hey, while we're at it, maybe stop being a jerk for once!
anyway,
old people. why do they always like, fuck young children, and hate foreigners, and think gay people cause hurricanes?
seriously, if i could make hurricanes, you'd fucking know it. i'd be just like, "oh, is it hurricane season?"
"no, sammy, it's christmas"
"OOPS, MOTHERFUCKING HURRICANE SHITTING IN YOUR FACE, JACKASSES@!"
really. i'd be calling down the storms on all the fuckers. but no, we're not magic witches with super powers. that'd seriously be super cool. i could write stories about that for years.
ok
breathe.
so hey, did you see me fucking panic my ass off on friday night?
no? oh, that's because i sent that all to the place no one else can see. here's how things worked.
i had a shitty week at work.
followed by a super shitty friday.
so i went home.
and remember how months ago i told you how i outsmarted my anxiety about having dinner by putting frozen dinners i liked in my freezer?
yeah. i decided i didn't like any of those.
"get some pizza."
i didn't want pizza.
"sammy, i'm not getting what your point is here, so"
SHUT UP!
i always like pizza. pizza is like my best friend who never tells me i'm a drunk. pizza and vodka. the three of us are super tight, yo.
so me sitting in my car, thinking about food, and pizza doesn't turn me on? this is a fucking existential challenge. who am i if i don't want pizza?
i love a tumblr about pizza and porn. it's like someone kissed my tears away and in doing so, made my perfect happy land.
so i'm sitting there, hating the horrors of frozen food, and also not wanting pizza. i drive mindlessly, eventually pulling into taco bell.
taco bell, "we're sorry you're here too, but at least we have some nacho cheese. we hope that helps."
it did. as much as tbell can do. you're not magic, tacos. and quesadillas. and those quesadilla burrito things that look like so much work i can't imagine they're not full of spit.
so, hey. that's how my friday went, and that's why you might have seen me writing tumblr posts about drunk driving to denny's on the other side of the island.
"don't drive drunk, sammy, that's how murder happens!"
duh. i was angry because i was so drunk i couldn't go eat food that would totally give me super shitty runs. i may hate myself (and a lot of other people), but i'm not going to put everyone in risk of me running them over. i'm not a monster.
what was my other point?
honestly, there was a whole rant to put here about brown food. not like "sammy, you're gross and like scat, stop being gross." it was about how frozen/microwave food isn't brown. you for-realsies cook food until it's brown, so it has that "brown flavor". so you know it's good. that's better than what i cobble together.
which makes me sad for the days when my brain was organized enough to actually sit down and cook for myself. i did a bit on that last vacation. it was good and brown, and i hate that i can't get my brain to work right so much of the time.
"sammy, you should get helpers!"
so, what i need is like a 1950's wife. someone who lives at home while i go do work shit, and makes sure we don't get bugs (too late) or live in filth (too late) and makes sure i don't run out of clean clothes (it only counts if you get caught). i think maybe i make enough to pay people to do those things? how much does a fake wife cost? do you have to pay more or less if you give them hugs?
what else is on the "you should talk to a therapist sooner than next month, sammy" list?
oh! i wrote some more. do you all remember "spa treatment"? no? you should look it up from a year ago when i totally stopped writing anything on it. i put in a third of a half of a chapter, which means i need to stop masturbating to my own stories. also, maybe lookup pipelining on gelbooru. i'll do a link when it's closer. but like, check out the concept to make sure you're on board before you start reading.
it's kind of hard when you write things and rub yourself raw, and then remember that most people would be disgusted by what you come up with. i'm sorry, everyone. i'm super sorry people who have said nice things about me. i wish i was a better person than i am.
i kind of wish i had a taco right now.
i'm...sorry. :(
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
does anyone else?
"fuck. not another random rant. go to sleep, sammy. sleep is your friend. like literally, you have friends in your sleep dreams."
yes, sure, whatever. important thoughts:
does anyone else sit and think about how we all just live on this big rock floating through space?
like, we're basically just parasites on this bumpy chunk of not-vacuum tumbling around.
nothing we do matters. there isn't an afterlife where we get to have angel orgies or whatever religions promise. you die. you stop thinking forever, because the thing that did the thinking doesn't work anymore. you're like the pump in the soap dispenser that doesn't dispense soap because it ran out of soap.
but seriously,
nothing matters. so everyone should probably try harder to not be such an ass to other people, because they're just trying to survive long enough that when they die (and stop thinking forever), they don't feel awful about everything.
so when i see things like this irish vote to make gay marriage totally not an issue, i stop and think about how much i should be like, "whoa. yay!"
but then i i think about how much that not already being a thing that's ok is fucking awful. we all die, we all get eaten by worms until we turn into dirt, and then those worms die and that dirt is sucked into the earth to make new continents far far away a billion years from now.
why does it matter then that you married XX instead of XY?
it doesn't. nothing matters. we all end up in the same way, after about the same amount of years.
so why do we have to fight so much to get everyone to accept this fact?
:(
yes, sure, whatever. important thoughts:
does anyone else sit and think about how we all just live on this big rock floating through space?
like, we're basically just parasites on this bumpy chunk of not-vacuum tumbling around.
nothing we do matters. there isn't an afterlife where we get to have angel orgies or whatever religions promise. you die. you stop thinking forever, because the thing that did the thinking doesn't work anymore. you're like the pump in the soap dispenser that doesn't dispense soap because it ran out of soap.
but seriously,
nothing matters. so everyone should probably try harder to not be such an ass to other people, because they're just trying to survive long enough that when they die (and stop thinking forever), they don't feel awful about everything.
so when i see things like this irish vote to make gay marriage totally not an issue, i stop and think about how much i should be like, "whoa. yay!"
but then i i think about how much that not already being a thing that's ok is fucking awful. we all die, we all get eaten by worms until we turn into dirt, and then those worms die and that dirt is sucked into the earth to make new continents far far away a billion years from now.
why does it matter then that you married XX instead of XY?
it doesn't. nothing matters. we all end up in the same way, after about the same amount of years.
so why do we have to fight so much to get everyone to accept this fact?
:(
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
tuesday morning dream stuff
do i put these behind a cut? looks like no. this one is a bit weird, and i'm probably forgetting details that might make it less weird. also, it starts off horror, and then turns into romance. because brain? anyway:
--
i'm in a new town. i'm wandering down the streets, with all sorts of closed shops and things. suddenly, a bunch of people come running around a corner. "don't go that way!" they continue past me, and i wander into the intersection to see what's going on. more people are there, but they're dismembered and bleeding, or stuck in the walls and street.
because it's literally a "new town." it's still being constructed in the dream, and as the buildings and blocks form, they're killing anyone who's trapped in that area. i turn back to where i came from, and despite there not being enough time for this to happen, one of the streets is now blocked off with cardboard boxes and things that are taped to the walls, and extend up to the tops of the building. the people who ran past did this to make sure no one went down the bad street.
i find the building i came out of, but there's shouting and stuff coming from inside. it feels like a bank, maybe, and i'm at the "back alley side door" that banks totally have. i open the door a crack, and there's a guy inside with a gun who'd taken everyone hostage. he rushes toward me, but i pull a pen from my pocket and stab him. like a bunch. i remember feeling the pen tip hit a rib, and then slide toward a gap to continue in. that gave me a new target to aim for.
i half wake up, because this is pretty messed up.
--
it's later. the town is finished, although it's always dark here, because it's under a highway intersection. my house is two blocks away from that bank, and one evening, i decide to go buy a book. i don't bother putting on shoes, because the book store is next door to my house.
i wander around the book store, when i notice another girl looking at similar books as me. we start talking, and we have a bunch of things in common. we leave the book store (and we both had groups of friends there at this point, but we ditch them), and are running around in a park. it's night time now, way later than it should be if time worked right.
she comes up with a "game" to play. she picks up a long hard stick, and chases me around and spanks my butt with it. i grab my own stick, and use it to defend myself, and to spank her. she's using hers like a baseball bat, kind of. mine is more flexible, and i'm holding one end, "underhand" if that makes sense, so that when i flex my wrist, it whips out to my side.
we eventually collapse into a pile on the ground, laughing. i say something about going home, and she says, "no, this is where i live." i'm confused, but then she kind of melts into the ground, because she's a fairy. a city park fairy, who lives next to that one bush, i guess. i'm still confused, but i get up, and walk to the street, where i meet her friends, who are going home to the park (they're fairies too).
i wake up for real here, with the standard sad feeling of loneliness i get after these kind of dreams.
--
i'm in a new town. i'm wandering down the streets, with all sorts of closed shops and things. suddenly, a bunch of people come running around a corner. "don't go that way!" they continue past me, and i wander into the intersection to see what's going on. more people are there, but they're dismembered and bleeding, or stuck in the walls and street.
because it's literally a "new town." it's still being constructed in the dream, and as the buildings and blocks form, they're killing anyone who's trapped in that area. i turn back to where i came from, and despite there not being enough time for this to happen, one of the streets is now blocked off with cardboard boxes and things that are taped to the walls, and extend up to the tops of the building. the people who ran past did this to make sure no one went down the bad street.
i find the building i came out of, but there's shouting and stuff coming from inside. it feels like a bank, maybe, and i'm at the "back alley side door" that banks totally have. i open the door a crack, and there's a guy inside with a gun who'd taken everyone hostage. he rushes toward me, but i pull a pen from my pocket and stab him. like a bunch. i remember feeling the pen tip hit a rib, and then slide toward a gap to continue in. that gave me a new target to aim for.
i half wake up, because this is pretty messed up.
--
it's later. the town is finished, although it's always dark here, because it's under a highway intersection. my house is two blocks away from that bank, and one evening, i decide to go buy a book. i don't bother putting on shoes, because the book store is next door to my house.
i wander around the book store, when i notice another girl looking at similar books as me. we start talking, and we have a bunch of things in common. we leave the book store (and we both had groups of friends there at this point, but we ditch them), and are running around in a park. it's night time now, way later than it should be if time worked right.
she comes up with a "game" to play. she picks up a long hard stick, and chases me around and spanks my butt with it. i grab my own stick, and use it to defend myself, and to spank her. she's using hers like a baseball bat, kind of. mine is more flexible, and i'm holding one end, "underhand" if that makes sense, so that when i flex my wrist, it whips out to my side.
we eventually collapse into a pile on the ground, laughing. i say something about going home, and she says, "no, this is where i live." i'm confused, but then she kind of melts into the ground, because she's a fairy. a city park fairy, who lives next to that one bush, i guess. i'm still confused, but i get up, and walk to the street, where i meet her friends, who are going home to the park (they're fairies too).
i wake up for real here, with the standard sad feeling of loneliness i get after these kind of dreams.
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