May 11th, 2004


you fucking spastic.

went over to david's after work last night to watch buffy & drink scotch. rolling out chill style is cool- me & chris & david all eating soup & reclining. the downside is that david's apartment is at the actual end of the world, so getting home is always an adventure, though i've never had any trouble whatsoever. i took the bus to the f last night, a trip without hassles or worries, other than the pouring rain beating down on everything. got home soaked, sleepy, & saintly. yeah, i smelled like roses on my deathbed. & of course the requisite text message from david sitting in my pocket. he always shoots off some cute little note, like "superlative company, scintillating conversation! we'll have to repeat the experiance!" or whatever.

so anyhow, that was my evening. this morning so far i've written up some japanese homework that masui & hiroyuki both helped me with, jerked off, & replied to some emails. & i am wondering if that last yuengling is still in the fridge. i doubt it. i could make coffee or something. all i'm looking for is something in my system. something light & efervescent, like liquor or caffine, not anything opressive like heroin or crack cocaine. who am i kidding? i keep going into the kitchen & looking at the coffee maker & the espresso maker & i'm totally too lazy to use them & then clean them. so it looks like these last few free minutes of my morning are going to be spent playing neopets.
  • Current Music
    crown me king feat. lorelai- chatterlicious
blur shotgun

(no subject)

i feel like a clock with it's face busted in, shards of glass in a rim like teeth. teeth pointed inward. broken glass pointed inward. i've got all this shrapnal i'm lugging around in my torso- my limbs are fine except for that they're attached to it. i'm a barrel of discarded pieces from the glass blowing factory, all chucked into the trash with enough force to shatter. all this stupid stress over a couple of ten page papers & three finals. if i would just do the fucking papers, i could chill the fuck out. i could go back to nursing old wounds, speaking of absence & gaps.
  • Current Music
    crown me king- the black palace
modern nazgul

black brimstone weapons.

the thing that i thing speaks most highly of science-fiction is that a good sci-fi novel has to be plausible. science-fiction writers have to be aware of it. you can set down whatever parameters you want for the universe, but once they are there, you have to stick to them & respect them. this works for characters, too- if you violate a character's personality, you might as well junk the whole thing. it works for everything else, but when i read "fiction" i often see plausibility thrown out the window. lethem is a prime example- all of a sudden the girl is crying rape without cause? or what have you. science-fiction, on the other hand, must be aware of plausibility, due to the nature of the medium. that lovely suspension of disbelief must be earned.

original star trek works like this: we buy that these are episodic morality plays. fine. sure, disembodied brains rule this planet, sure, this week we meet black n' white cookie men, this week children are all thats left on a world. throw whatever you want in the mix- if you are watching star trek, you buy it. but man, misconstrue a character & you will hear about it forever. spock wouldn't do this, kirk would do that. this is why the later treks blow so bad- completely abandon continuity & you violate the plausibility "prime directive." & you wanna see some real fucking great work with plausibility? dune. which is why that book rules, & also why the sequels all blow. he sets up a world, knocks it down, but then when it comes to a second novel, he just tramples all over what we accepted about the world, & the characters.
  • Current Music
    loch ness family orchastra- inkanyamba