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Below are the most recent 25 friends' journal entries.
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| Monday, November 9th, 2009 |
scaddude
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1:02a |
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the_paulk
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12:01a |
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sunjun
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10:00a |
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| Sunday, November 8th, 2009 |
aliasa
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11:45p |
Laos: on the road
Waiting for the zyrtec to kick another. Another bout of hives and a what is now, a regular battle against insomnia. I feast on honey dipped, plaintain chips. 
Many a days, the skies were covered in grey. The feel of cool raindrops dancing on our skin were welcomed, a nice break from the hot, humidity of Laos.
( +2 random photos ) |
| Monday, November 9th, 2009 |
newyork808
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12:30a |
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| Sunday, November 8th, 2009 |
highendmakeup
[ sicilian_kisses ]
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9:13p |
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rankingranqueen
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6:55p |
sitting in a cafe. waterloo is a cute college town and everyone is beautiful and young and full of potential and has a nice ass that knows not 60 hour weeks sitting at a desk for the rest of their lives. i have 3 hours to kill b4 everyone else lands and the pressurte anf nonstop work starts. i forgot and sat down next to someone way too young at a cafe today reminds me of iowa city wish there were second chances at youth. couldve gone into finance and not studied and be retired now maybe would have become more boring hard to imagine so. . . i really dont like myself at all Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com |
moschus
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10:41a |
a question for you, and pondering Johnny Depp
1 At the other half of this blog I posted how the internet killed storytelling. except if maybe it didn't and I was reflecting again on how optimistic I am about all this stuff. I think the Internet is awesome. I love the Internet. And that it's forcing publishing to reinvent itself is a good thing. Am I nuts? 2 And on a completely different note, I saw someone who looks exactly like Johnny Depp* (I am a fan, but then again, who isn't? what's not to love?) walking down Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica last night. The Promenade is an area of street closed off to cars and turned into a kind of outdoor strolling mall: at night it's also a place for street performers and musicians, and the stores stay open late. It's lively and fun. I was there at the Apple Store buying my new iPhone (I gave up on my buggy Blackberry, plus I want the book apps) and a scarf (you can never have too many scarves) because it was freaking cold. As I walked back toward my car I passed this guy who initially caught my eye because of his brown hair and eyes (I'm a sucker for that kind of coloring) and exquisite bone structure (I'm a sucker for that too). Then face-recognition kicked in and I literally stopped in my tracks and turned to watch the guy sauntering away in the opposite direction. The height was right, the build was right (slender but fit in the way that comes with a personal trainer -- the kind of body you only see on men over 30 who are actors or gay or personal trainers). He was wearing some kind of newsboy cap and had his hands in his pockets and was attracting no notice whatsoever despite the confident, jaunty walk. Somehow this also seemed very Depp-esque. *I've sighted Matt Damon, whom I recognized, and Colin Farrill, whom I did not ("He's not cute enough to be Colin Farrill"), both of which were confirmed in the next few days by photographs in magazines (Damon was in the exact same outfit and red baseball cap I saw him in as he loitered by a newsstand and talked on his cell phone, and Farrill was long-haired and kind of soft and pudgy). And I also saw Fifty Cent, whom I did not recognize at the time but did note the massive quantity of women throwing themselves at him -- he was literally shoving them off his lap and looking tired and irritated -- and then recognized his picture in an issue of Rolling Stone the next day. |
scaddude
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1:02a |
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the_paulk
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12:01a |
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rankingranqueen
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12:14a |
Got into Waterloo around 10:30 pm, exhausted, and just ate a $15 veggie wrap and fries from room service that was probably the best thing I've ever eaten in my whole life since I hadn't eaten all day. I'm doomed to die of swine flu after this. Everyone on the flights was sick, and my manager's coming from Tokyo sick. Let's all hope it's a swift end so I don't spend a month blogging about it.
We made a (rather ugly) war ship from the salvaged steel of the WTC. sigh.
My taxi driver to SFO had asked me enough to know who I worked for, that I was travelling to Toronto, and that I often go to Tokyo. He said it's refreshing when he meets people like me who have pretty much their ideal job and can be satisfied. sigh.
On the plus side, a really quite attractive girl with short hair seemed to be interested in me at the Chicago airport, but, alas, turned out she wasn't going to Toronto. Was one of the rare times that a girl actually gave me some -- still vague, of course -- signals first. |
| Saturday, November 7th, 2009 |
mylai
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1:03p |
she wears short skirts, i wear tee-shirts
peter, miguel, linda and i made a lot of fond memories during the first half of high school,
cloaked in bed sheets running around the playground at mt. diablo pretending to be vampires,
learning how to chain smoke while reenacting scenes from reservoir dogs,
mobbin' around the southbay in linda's mazda...
i'm in san jose for the weekend to catch up with old friends
so i tried to get 3/4 of us together (since linda is off in l.a. somewhere being famous),
but we couldn't get a hold of miguel so it was just gonna be me and pete.
and then the other day, vi says,
"there's an art exhibit in downtown if you guys wanna hit it up with us."
so i checked out the flyer and miguel was the first artist listed. kismet!
it's strange to be back in san jose, with friends i haven't seen for years, who've never left,
who've endured such hardships (and i mean, incredible hardships) and overcame them
only to shine.
miggy doing what he does best.
peter is still the quirky, sweet guy he's always been.
the three of us, many years later.
since we were in downtown, nate and i decided to make a quick stop at la victoria's
to pick up a bottle of their special sauce... something i've been craving since i left many years ago.
|
moschus
|
12:56p |
unicorn-related quotes of the day
"It’s like the panoramic poster hanging above my bed, the one with the rainbow and the flying unicorns and the sunset. Sure, it’s all the things I love and they’re all together, and the girl-unicorn is looking towards the boy-unicorn with pure unbridled passion, and even though I’m not sure rainbows and sunsets can really happen at the same time, well, this picture looks pretty realistic—I mean, just check out the authentic musculature in the stallion’s powerful haunches—and so maybe all my dreams are possible." -- Eli Horowitz in The Believer (thank you Katherine Anne) "Unicorns are creepy. Imagine Pamplona with unicorns instead of bulls. Not so warm and fuzzy." -- Jenn Scholz Hughes |
moschus
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10:02a |
the challenge: freakin' unicorns
David N. Wilson has been giving me a tough time about unicorns. It started on Twitter. Some young goth-oriented writer posted a tweet asking people to keep on her back about meeting her word quota for the evening. I tweeted back saying that if she failed to meet her obligations to herself, I would make her write "I love unicorns and rainbows and giant mushfests" 1000 times. Or something to that effect. How David got involved in this, I'm not exactly sure. I do remember a tweet where I threatened to lob stuffed pink unicorns at someone's head (I believe it was David's. Or possibly Colleen Lindsay's). I also remember informing David that the only unicorn that would interest me was a punk unicorn ridden by Keanu Reeves (my love for Keanu knows no bounds). Over the next months -- we're talking MONTHS, people -- David would take random tweets of mine and find some way to refer back to unicorns. (example: me: I changed my twitter background and later in the day it mysteriously changed back. Twitter poltergeist? David: It's waiting for the rainbows and unicorns.) It got to the point where I was tweeting in exasperation: You know very well that Unicorns Kick Ass is NOT MY MOTTO. Finally, when I threw this question to the Twitterverse: A certain individual on Twitter will not leave me alone about the freaking unicorns. Is this not harassment? David informed me that the price of freedom from his tyranny would be a story. Written by me. About unicorns. When he sensed my reluctance on the topic, he created this:  and this  An opportunity seemed to arise when Trisha Telep, who edited the anthology which includes my story "I Need More You", emailed me and asked if I would contribute to her paranormal YA anthology which comes out next year (KISS ME DEADLY). I responded with my usual nonchalance ( YES YES YES YES YES) and she asked me What paranormal creature do you want? Sadly, unicorns were taken, as were, emailed Trisha, ghost kids, lotsa zombies, fairies, banshees, vampires and demons (i think).I tweeted this situation to David -- unicorns are taken. You weep. I know. David responded with a challenge of his own: You write a story. I will write a story. The contest? It must be a serious story. It must be "real" and as powerful as it's possible to make it.
I will find a publisher to publish both as a chapbook...I felt a surge of killer instinct. I'm in.He replied Did I mention they have to be UNICORN stories? But it's an intriguing challenge: to take the cuddly out of unicorns and return them to the mysterious, formidable creature they originally were.* So. On my desk for the next two months: THE DECADENTS, my YA story of 10,000 words or so (I'm going to do something involving sorcery, inspired by a panel I attended at World Fantasy, and playing with the idea of girlpower**) and a story about freakin' unicorns. I wish there was a point or moral to all this, but I'm not sure what it could possibly be. * As Holly Black once pointed out, and I'm paraphrasing here, It's human nature to take what scares us and make it familiar and silly and kind of cute. It was a point I brought up months later at my zombie panel at World Fantasy, wondering how far we are from My Little Zombie toys, etc. ** I met the wondrous Francesca Lia Block at a group reading we did for Teen Week in LA recently, and we swapped books -- her PRETTY DEAD for my UNINVITED. I love, love, love the opening lines of PRETTY DEAD: Teenage girls are powerful creatures...They are relentless and underutilized. They want what they want, and they will do what they must to get it. Love, possessions, beauty, food, sweets, friends. Unless they are crushed so hard as to give up. But then they are just as relentless, only seeking different things. So that, crossed with the World Fantasy panel about the representation of sorcerers in fantasy literature, has resulted in a YA story of my own, even if I don't know what it is yet. |
caffeineguy
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11:05a |
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isogen
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11:05a |
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disgruntledgrrl
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8:54a |
Ahh Scott Kurtz - you a funny man.
 In other news, Kevin is REALLY effing sick. He says he hasn't felt this bad in ages. I've been up since 6 checking on him as he can't walk very well without stumbling into the wall or door. I went to bed around 1 because he keep waking up. Bad time, of course. The door arrives today and we had plans with ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) fleurrette, flemco and takhisis. I also need to get my crap sorted for the garage sale and make some signs which can wait for tomorrow but I don't think he's going to be well for his 12 hour shift tomorrow. Add StripedLady to your YouTube Subscriptions. She rips the BGMs of videos and sets them up as playlists. This is the stuff of Silent Hill I have a hard time locating. Not just the songs or battle themes or scenario music. Even the background stuff you barely pick up in when you're moving thru a map. Here's Silent Hill 2 http://www.youtube.com/user/stripedlady#g/c/FF3E3CDA99AE5635She's got TONS of game soundtracks. |
scaddude
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1:03a |
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the_paulk
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12:01a |
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| Friday, November 6th, 2009 |
moschus
|
10:10p |
RULES OF SEDUCTION: writing the opposite sex
This was posted at Tribal Writer, and I'm reposting it here at a reader's request, due to her desire to read it without the emboldened sentences I used to make it more "skimmable". This seems like a good idea for future essays as well. This is the revised version of an essay originally published at Storytellers Unplugged as the second half of a two part series about writing as the opposite sex. The first essay was by Richard Steinberg.1 Storytelling is seduction, when you think about it. Seducers get inside your view of things and reshape it to their own. They compel you in their chosen direction, until you are exactly where they want you, be it in their story or their bed. What writers and seducers have in common is a mind that is empathetic enough to get under the skin of another human being…and an eye cold enough to assess their progress, or if it’s time to revise the course. They understand human nature. And since that nature comes to us in male and female packages of experience, any real understanding needs to enfold the opposite sex as well as your own. Or else the only people you’ll know how to seduce will be people like you. And maybe not even them. 2 My father likes to tell an anecdote about the time our car broke down along a dark highway during the kind of cold snowy night only a Canadian town – well, maybe a few others — can produce. My father told my mother and me to stay within the safe warm confines of the car while he tried to flag down help. Minutes passed. I looked through the windshield and for just a split moment the man I saw wasn’t my father at all, but a hulking, shadowy, six-feet-plus stranger with a hood pulled over his head. I got out of the car and slammed the door and stepped to the side of the road. I made sure to stand in the glare of oncoming traffic. My mother freaked out and kept yanking my sleeve, worried that I was about to get hit. Before I could even fend her off, help had arrived. My father likes to end this anecdote with what is more or less the point of it: how I set myself out like a billboard, because I knew people would stop for me but not him. This seemed so obvious to me that I was surprised that he was surprised by it. It was not unlike a comment a male friend would make to me at university a year or so later, about how irritated he felt when he walked through campus at night and the girl just ahead would cross the street to get away from him. My friend was maybe six-five, with spiked hair and black fingernails. He favored a long dark overcoat. Like my father by the side of the road that night, he seemed a bit oblivious to the impact he made on others — especially women — especially a young woman walking alone in the dark. The comment also made me realize that I had no idea what it was like to be perceived as the potential danger, the possible threat, while doing nothing more than sauntering down the street. I never thought how that would make me feel. I never looked at things from that perspective. 3 My father was a school principal who dealt with mostly women – teachers, secretaries, mothers. He liked to complain about what I now call “pretty girl syndrome”: women who monopolized attention and offered banal opinions with authority and confidence. They were used to people listening to them and didn’t think it was because of their looks. Soon after I moved to LA, I witnessed a version of this firsthand. My ex-husband lives in a very guy-dominated world – he moves between business, technology, physics, engineering – and some of his friends became comfortable around me. If I wasn’t quite one of the guys, I wasn’t one of the girls, either, especially since I was neither available nor under 30 – or maybe 25 – like the women they brought to restaurants and concerts and parties. These men were highly intelligent and successful. The girls were sweet and bright enough, but academia – or reading material in general – had never been much of a priority. Still, I was struck by how they would break into conversation with a comment so many light-years away from the sophisticated discourse going on around the table that I would think they were joking. They weren’t joking. When I took a longer look, I saw what my father had been talking about: these guys, raised to be nice and well-mannered (especially when they were trying to get laid), would give one of these girls a lot of attention. They seemed fascinated by what she had to say. When the girl left the room, they would make cracks about how inane or annoying or ‘dumb’ she was. When the girl returned, they were hanging off her every word. ( Read more... ) |
| Saturday, November 7th, 2009 |
newyork808
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12:30a |
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| Friday, November 6th, 2009 |
fengi
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1:31p |
The new new thing
So, it's going to be one a day, is it? I hope so, because even with today instant communication, it's hard to coordinate the lag time between attack, first response and media - so trying to have one for morning and evening drive time would mean early AM spress, and finding a crowd then is difficult. After the third 24 Hour Diner Massacre, I think people would catch on. |
moschus
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11:18a |
paranormal psychological
Not so long ago I thought I was burned out on writing about writing, so this recent burst of enthusiasm and productivity at Tribal Writer has been fun, and more than a little reassuring (not to mention I can then pop over here and do some writing about writing about writing). I guess sometimes the brain has to take a step back and pursue another direction for a while (I went through a period of reading about social media when I should have been writing, or at least thinking about writing). Or maybe my world had gotten narrow and insular, and I needed to knock down a wall to let in some fresh air, new perspective. I'm trying something new with THE DECADENTS, the paranormal psychological novel* I"m working on now -- I hired a "writing coach" and joined her workshop that starts later this month, meeting in Topanga Canyon: the drive itself, taking me out to the coast and winding up into the hills near Malibu, which I've always considered one of the most stunning vistas ever, will be good for the book. Never underestimate the power of a change of location. She will be my sounding board, my editor, and my taskmaster, holding me accountable for a certain number of pages every week. I meet with her this weekend and I'm looking forward to the shoptalk. * and if that's not a genre then I'll invent it, dammit |
inthebelljar
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11:02a |
Entire Office Unsure What To Do About Bawling Coworker
oh, what it would be like to work in an office again: http://www.theonion.com/content/news/entire_office_unsure_what_to_doEntire Office Unsure What To Do About Bawling Coworker FINDLAY, OH—The entire office staff of Altman & Hanson Accounting remained utterly baffled as to what, if anything, should be done in response to the prominent sobbing coming from the cubicle of 36-year-old clerk Jack Underwood, sources reported today. Underwood, who has been employed by the accounting firm since 2004, reportedly began weeping sometime after 10:15 a.m. and has not shown any indication of stopping. "He's just in there crying and crying—what are we supposed to do?" said coworker David Hammond, who was not aware of any medical or emotional issues Underwood might have. "At first I thought there might be an-other round of layoffs coming, but [office manager] Sophie told me that wasn't the case, so at least I know that whatever the sobbing is about, it doesn't affect me." "But still, jeez, I hope he's okay in there," Hammond continued. Other staff members were also at a loss as to how to approach the crying man. Junior partner Russell Hanson told reporters that he had "absolutely no clue" what to say to Underwood and decided to ask administrative assistant Emily Koe to go talk to the tearful coworker, seeing as she is "a woman and all." "I really would, but I just don't know him well enough," said Koe, who has worked with Underwood for more than four years. "Someone should call his wife. If he has one." Thus far, office sources have only been able to speculate as to why the crying is taking place. Accountant James DuBois, who was the first to discover Underwood's uncontrollable sobbing when he stopped by his office and awkwardly dropped off some receipts, said he was pretty sure Underwood did not have any dead or dying pets, but suggested the clerk might be upset about his recent passing over for promotion to senior clerk. "No one knows why he's crying so hard, but then most people here don't know his last name, either," DuBois said. "I'm not sure what everybody expects me to do about it. After all, it's not like I can just walk up to the guy and, you know, ask him what's wrong." "He talks to Amy," added DuBois, referring to audit manager Amy Case, who is currently on vacation. "Can somebody go get Amy? Other theories as to the source of the crying include: recent diagnosis with a degenerative disease; some sort of family crisis; overall loneliness; or probably just something senior accounts representative Paul Greenblatt did. Unfortunately, because Underwood rarely ever talks to his coworkers about subjects other than work, there is little information to confirm or deny these speculations. Nevertheless, office sources were nearly unanimous in reporting that the sobbing was becoming increasingly upsetting to them and, perhaps more importantly, was making it really difficult to concentrate. "I feel bad for him, but the least he could do is go out to the stairwell to do his wailing," said Bob Cho, a tax specialist with the firm. "I wish he would just go home, to tell you the truth." At press time, staff members were considering a variety of plans, including calling Underwood's parents, calling someone in Human Resources, sending Underwood an e-mail featuring a lighthearted Internet video, or just leaving for lunch and hoping that he is gone by the time they return. But whatever the solution eventually turns out to be, the only thing that seems certain is that nobody wants to go over there and deal with him directly. "Maybe he just hates his job," said one coworker, who spoke on condition of anonymity. "That's usually my reason when I start crying and can't stop." |
disgruntledgrrl
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11:58a |
Giving LifeLock a try annnnnnnnd Xmas list
I keep getting rejection letters for loans and for credit cards. Today the roommate trickykitty just discovered her DL was used to set up a bank acct by a rogue. We've been compromised and I'm not surprised considering the past years seems to have announcements in the news of the personal information of over 1 million or 3 million people having been stolen or compromised. Add to that one unstable mother-in-law who has in the past attempted to use Kevin's data to secure herself money. She cleaned out one acct. We found she enrolled Kevin in a Community College without informing him which tells me it might have been for a friend "who just needed the classes" (and summarily didn't show up enough to garner a grade). So I'm going for it. Sadly it only gives us 2 phone number slots. I entered the Cell (which is hardly on or has no signal in the callcenter) and the home number. I hope they email as well like they say. Another shooting today. If this guy is Jordanian then I'm afraid it'll be open season declared on an otherwise rather laid back sort of people. I was stunned when I heard the guy that was planning to blow up the Dallas Skyscraper was Jordanian, but extremism happens when the normal religions don't ... I dunno punish enough? it's not designated for one race at a time. Baptists and Pentecostals have proven that. (You know the kind: They seem happy that the world would end soon.) Friday finally here and Kevin is finally sick. I finally ordered the Revolution for the persistent flea problem and finally ordered a door. flemco posted his Xmas list. I may as well follow suit. LJ paid acct. Thanks to willnobilis for extending it a little while ago. Steam Games. If you think I'll like it, sure - go for it. Disgruntled_girl_reply at yahoo is my email inside of Steam Pillows. I go thru them kinda fast External USB drive. Like seriously. I don't care if everyone on this list suddenly gave me a 1 gig flash drive. Tupperware. It mysteriously disappears. We are currently "Top heavy" again as it turns out most of the tupperware knock offs we had were in fact NOT dishwasher safe. They COULD be washed in the dishwasher - but they couldn't be dried. That be it. Please go to my Prior Entry and watch the YouTube Vid. |
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