Nothing is random: I have said this before

[desperance]

Dogs have the Best Day Ever; cats have existential angst. Discuss.

Meanwhile, I must write an essayette on Gattaca and the paranoia of identity, its legitimy and authentification. This may call for a bottle of wine; it may call for a re-viewing of the movie. I know what I want to say, I just don't know if it's true yet. Maybe all the paranoia is my own? Certainly my own SF creation, the Upshot stories are all, but all about the paranoia of identity. It does not follow that it's true of all SF. Some things, I learn, are actually not about me. (How wrong is that? On a scale of one to eleven?)

Talking of which, speak it softly but I am actually having a good time with this rewrite. I am not quite remaking the novella from the ground up, no; but extra scenes are going in early, which recast what follows in a wholly different light. And make much better sense of it. Damn, I hate when that happens: when other people turn out to be right, y'know...? (Guilt! He can has guilt! Guilt and anger and desire, these three abide; and the greatest of these...?)

Also, gay boys whose hangovers smell of each other. Aww. So sweet, so special: Best Thing Ever. (And yes, yes, I know: I'm prejudiced. But still. One boy fumbling two glasses of juice; I melt. And try to tiptoe away discreetly, and end up oozing under the door to the ruination of the carpet...)

And tomorrow I must away again, down to Oxford. We have a TWF Oxfringe event on Saturday - Borders at 6.00pm, if you're in striking-range - and otherwise I shall burden Juliet with a weekend of wittering. Or else I shall sit in a corner and work, perhaps. Who can say?

Comments

"Dogs have the Best Day Ever; cats have existential angst. Discuss."

[abserdman.livejournal.com]

WHAT PETS WRITE IN THEIR DIARIES


Excerpts from a Dog's Diary......

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk Bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!



Excerpts from a Cat's Daily Diary...

Day 983 of my captivity...

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.

Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...

Re: "Dogs have the Best Day Ever; cats have existential angst. Discuss."

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Heh. 'Zackly. I would've said "Is that your own?" - but the American spelling would tend to deny it. Wherever you found it, though, I approve this message. 'Specially about the dog being retarded.

Re: "Dogs have the Best Day Ever; cats have existential angst. Discuss."

[abserdman.livejournal.com]

Nah, I found it in one of the dog communities and saved it for my own use. Iz rather appropriate 99% of the time.

And: Oi! Sparky is not retarded.

Re: "Dogs have the Best Day Ever; cats have existential angst. Discuss."

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Of course Sparky is retarded. He's a dog. You train him. He lies down for this. And sits, rolls over, begs, whatever else...

[moral-vacuum.livejournal.com]

That reminds me - I watched a PKD adaptation I'd never heard of the other night, called "The Imposter". Unfortunately Gary Sinise can't carry a film , Madeleine Stowe was botoxed so much that she had no expressions, and Vincent D'Onofrio was chewing the scenery as the "villian". It also suffered from budgetary contraints. But I gather that it was extended from a 37 minute short film which is supposed to be excellent. They didn't cop out too badly with the depressing ending - although I understand that the original story had the destruction of the entire world, not just a few thousand people. PKD: purveyor of headf*ck to the gentry.

PS: Of course everything's all about you!

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Damn - I saw that was around, but didn't realise it was PKD. No matter, I'll catch it next time.

And PS - yup, that is what I have always suspected.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Writing can exhilarate, therefore rewriting should re-exhilarate.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Mostly it doesn't, though. Mostly it's just a grind, second time through the mincer, where's the fun in that? Except that this time there's all this new stuff going in...

[martyn44.livejournal.com]

On a scale of one to eleven? Twelve?

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Yup.

[cinderberry.livejournal.com]

Speaking of Oxford: we're moving to Banbury in two weeks. If you ever need a berth down that way, you know where to find me. (It's also good for getting to Birmingham, Warwick and Stratford.)

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Eek! What in the world? Why in the forever...? What will we do without you?!??1!?

As it 'appens, I'm still around in Oxfordshire quite often (if not as often I was used, when I had People In Henley). You may expect the odd ping...

[cinderberry.livejournal.com]

Work, I'm afraid. Work sucks rocks.

We certainly hope for frequent pings!

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Damn. I almost wish you were down there already, because then, y'know, this weekend...

[cinderberry.livejournal.com]

I know - we arrive the day after Oxfringe ends. However, I'm overjoyed to find that it exists in the first place!

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Oh! I'm sorry to hear you're moving away - having totally failed to take advantage of your being nearby...

Maybe you'll post your news occasionally?

[green-knight.livejournal.com]

I shall be there. That's a threat, you realise.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

*fears*

[I would say "don't forget to introduce yourself", but hey, I reckon we can spot someone with green skin and a detachable head...]

[green-knight.livejournal.com]

The horse tends to be a giveaway...