I want to go back in time and tell myself that someday Joey Potter will have Lestat's baby just to gauge my reaction.

Been working on a couple of writing projects lately. The problem with these longer works is that they take too long to finish. The good thing about short stories is that they're done in a week or two, allowing one to begin work on something new fairly quickly, but the bad thing about them (or at least my short stories) is that nobody likes them and I can't sell them for the world so I pretty much end up just having them sit there and collect virtual dust on my hard drive. Hell, I think I'm going to post one on Scary-Crayon -- should give readers something to look over while I spend more time focusing on these pieces. Trimming will probably make them significantly shorter once I've finished the initial drafts (and continuity correction and the addition of stuff I think is missing will likely prompt me to make additions here and there), but I've got 12,500 words on the one and 1000 words on the other. The other, you see, I started during a period of inactivity on the first -- which would've simply been a period of FREEDOM had it been a short story. I think even my longest short story barely tops 6000 words.

The joke here is that I'll probably be unable to sell the longer pieces too, but at least I can request that they be read in full during my funeral proceedings. I don't want to be embalmed or anything either and I want the casket open, goddamnit, so all in attendance can watch me rot in the sun as the books are read aloud. Pay attention, children, and ignore the buzzing of the flies.

(Update: "Hazel Wheatkettle's Dying Wish" is up on Scary-Crayon if anyone is interested in reading. It is kinda sad.)

I fucking expect to see some cartoons. Why is Dumb and Dumber on? And why is "Saved by the Bell" joining the CN lineup -- on Adult Swim, of all places?

Not that I mind that last one.

And roughly forty minutes later, my tongue stopped tingling.

I found an old battery in my room that had lots of crystalline white powder around its seams and bottom. Something possessed me to sniff it. It had no scent.

Then, possibly due to my dissatisfaction with this lack of sensory gratification, I resolved to lick it.

It tasted like sour skittles and made my tongue tingle.

My tongue is still tingling.

I don't watch basketball. In fact, I don't watch sports in general. Unless I'm betting on a game and/or the event is part of a known story -- for example, with professional wrestling, albeit that's pretty terrible these days too -- I find myself spectacularly unable to get excited about a bunch of overpaid assholes running around and doing various things with assorted balls. And then fucking hell someone always insists upon talking to one of the athletes, whereupon he/she almost always responds with the same (grammatically incorrect) crap about everyone "working hard" and "giving it 110 percent." I hate sports and I hate sports players and how they are idolized and I wish there were lethal traps on the playing fields in order to simultaneously make the games more interesting and raise the average IQ of society.

Still, last night I dreamed that I was watching a women's basketball game and was totally into it because this pretty girl on the court was fucking awesome. She was all that and a bag of chips! Literally, because she was actually playing while eating a bag of potato chips. When she didn't have the ball, she was holding the bag with one hand and popping chips with the other, but whenever someone passed to her she single-handedly (because the bag was still in the other hand) dribbled circles around the opposing team and totally dunked the ball IN THEIR FACES AWWW YEEEAAAH BOOMSHAKALAKA and then went right back to eating her potato chips as she jogged up and down the court. It was surreal.

I'd watch basketball if more players did impressive stuff like that.

Okay, you heard the audio post about the weepy bra lady on TLC. That was pretty bad, right? But get this -- I just tuned into SciFi and there was a segment about a man being raped by the ghost of a Civil War soldier. As if gay cowboys (eating pudding) wasn't bad enough, now we've got gay spectres from important historical events. Who comes up with this stuff?!

I saw Brokeback Mountain the other weekend, by the way. I thought it was really good (far better than Crash, to the point where I can kind of understand why she was angry enough about the loss to write this), but it definitely could've been better. It's kind of difficult to cram 20+ years of people's lives into a two-hour film and it really showed with this film, such that it probably would've been better as a miniseries. If they released a four-plus-hour extended version like with the Lord of the Rings films, I'd totally be interested in checking it out.

All for now -- ja ne!