muttering to self
Dec. 1st, 2004 12:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
incandescensFinished OPCS-4 checking. Gah. (8138 entries.) Now have several queries which have accumulated while I was busy elsewhere. We keep busy.
The Woman In White was generally a disappointment. I heal the bitter wounds by playing my other purchase, The Complete Symphonic Miss Saigon. Mmm. That's better.
Really should start serious planning for Christmas, she says, putting it off for another day.
My authorial copies of Exalted: The Fair Folk have not yet arrived. Bah humbug. I want to read everyone else's chapters. And see the art. Humbug, again.
---
Cut as this is a longish quote.
This particular diary was merely the latest in a long line of them: an actual bound book, possibly one-eighth filled, but already fraying at the seams, and bulging slightly with little yellow sticky notes. (Benny had, for various reasons, been largely instrumental in the resurrection of this long-forgotten twentieth-century invention to the galaxy at large, thus dividing it neatly down the middle into people who wanted to thank her profusely, or murder her on sight, if they had known who she was.) She was in the habit of writing down what had been done by, with, for or to her -- and then covering it with an often completely different version until she felt like dealing with the facts of matters. It was a harmless little bit of avoidance, not a neurotic compulsion in the slightest, and she could have given it up any time she liked.
She idly flipped through several entries. One of them, on the obscuring yellow note, read:
Had a perfectly wonderful evening. Wore that outfit Jason likes so much for various obscure but highly flattering reasons -- I really do hold him in high regard. Jason cooked, which is of course another of his good points. He really is quite wonderful, Dear Diary, and not a completely insensitive and infuriating little git in the slightest.
Underneath, on the page itself, in a rather more rushed and irregular hand, the entry read:
BASTARD! How dare he tell me my thighs look fat. Says that again, he's going to get these bloody slingbacks up his [indecipherable, possibly "funking arm"]. I hate him. !!! J spent two hours in the k rattling bloody pans and you should have seen the state of it afterwards. Plus it's repeating on me. I've been up and down like a bride's bloody nightie half the bloody night and don't think I don't know for one sodding minute what he's really after . . .
The note over a slightly more recent entry read:
Well, now it's finally over I feel relieved. And stronger, more affirmed about myself. I really believe that the whole experience has made me stronger as a person, helped me to discover my inner self. Finally, a sense of closure. The possibilities of my life have opened up again and I feel happier than I've felt in months. Really.
while the real entry underneath read:
OH, BOLLOCKS!
. . . in a heavily underscored scrawl, gone over so many times that it had worn holes in the paper at the pressure points.
-- Ship of Fools, Dave Stone
The Woman In White was generally a disappointment. I heal the bitter wounds by playing my other purchase, The Complete Symphonic Miss Saigon. Mmm. That's better.
Really should start serious planning for Christmas, she says, putting it off for another day.
My authorial copies of Exalted: The Fair Folk have not yet arrived. Bah humbug. I want to read everyone else's chapters. And see the art. Humbug, again.
---
Cut as this is a longish quote.
This particular diary was merely the latest in a long line of them: an actual bound book, possibly one-eighth filled, but already fraying at the seams, and bulging slightly with little yellow sticky notes. (Benny had, for various reasons, been largely instrumental in the resurrection of this long-forgotten twentieth-century invention to the galaxy at large, thus dividing it neatly down the middle into people who wanted to thank her profusely, or murder her on sight, if they had known who she was.) She was in the habit of writing down what had been done by, with, for or to her -- and then covering it with an often completely different version until she felt like dealing with the facts of matters. It was a harmless little bit of avoidance, not a neurotic compulsion in the slightest, and she could have given it up any time she liked.
She idly flipped through several entries. One of them, on the obscuring yellow note, read:
Had a perfectly wonderful evening. Wore that outfit Jason likes so much for various obscure but highly flattering reasons -- I really do hold him in high regard. Jason cooked, which is of course another of his good points. He really is quite wonderful, Dear Diary, and not a completely insensitive and infuriating little git in the slightest.
Underneath, on the page itself, in a rather more rushed and irregular hand, the entry read:
BASTARD! How dare he tell me my thighs look fat. Says that again, he's going to get these bloody slingbacks up his [indecipherable, possibly "funking arm"]. I hate him. !!! J spent two hours in the k rattling bloody pans and you should have seen the state of it afterwards. Plus it's repeating on me. I've been up and down like a bride's bloody nightie half the bloody night and don't think I don't know for one sodding minute what he's really after . . .
The note over a slightly more recent entry read:
Well, now it's finally over I feel relieved. And stronger, more affirmed about myself. I really believe that the whole experience has made me stronger as a person, helped me to discover my inner self. Finally, a sense of closure. The possibilities of my life have opened up again and I feel happier than I've felt in months. Really.
while the real entry underneath read:
OH, BOLLOCKS!
. . . in a heavily underscored scrawl, gone over so many times that it had worn holes in the paper at the pressure points.
-- Ship of Fools, Dave Stone
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no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 01:55 am (UTC)Dang. Now I gotta figure out how to look all those novels up again, now that I no longer have a conveniently located Dr. Who fannish friend who collects every book connected to the series.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 09:05 am (UTC)Um -- might you be able to find them on ebay? Zshops off amazon?