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surreality
Jul. 16th, 2005 11:32 amMoments in the last 24 hours:
1. Got home from buying frosting for a cake to find out that bailiff called - I am called back on Monday. ^@#&%@$&%.
2. Saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, large sections of which ought to be subtitled "The Nightmare of Viggo Mortensen After Eating Too Much Curry." Lovely movie, very well-done, will talk more about it later. For now, suffice it to say that a billion little Kieran Shaws are currently dancing and singing through my mind, which is truly disturbing.
3. While waiting for the movie to start, I was reading Finding Serenity, a book of essays on Firefly. After sitting in silence and apparently reading over my shoulder for about ten minutes, the nice man next to me finally blurted "Is that a book about Firefly???"
4. I am being punished for disliking Mercedes Lackey. While reading one particular essay in the book, I was fascinated by how insightful it was, how well-written, how thoroughly intelligent and clever were the points being made. I got to the end... and read the byline. Mercedes Lackey. The woman I frequently accuse of having the creativity and insight of a carrot.
Needless to say, I am humbled. She missed her calling in life - most of her novels are faiar to middling, but ye gods can that woman write essays, and that's a talent I highly appreciate.
As I am not dressed and should be leaving in six minutes, it's time to go!
1. Got home from buying frosting for a cake to find out that bailiff called - I am called back on Monday. ^@#&%@$&%.
2. Saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, large sections of which ought to be subtitled "The Nightmare of Viggo Mortensen After Eating Too Much Curry." Lovely movie, very well-done, will talk more about it later. For now, suffice it to say that a billion little Kieran Shaws are currently dancing and singing through my mind, which is truly disturbing.
3. While waiting for the movie to start, I was reading Finding Serenity, a book of essays on Firefly. After sitting in silence and apparently reading over my shoulder for about ten minutes, the nice man next to me finally blurted "Is that a book about Firefly???"
4. I am being punished for disliking Mercedes Lackey. While reading one particular essay in the book, I was fascinated by how insightful it was, how well-written, how thoroughly intelligent and clever were the points being made. I got to the end... and read the byline. Mercedes Lackey. The woman I frequently accuse of having the creativity and insight of a carrot.
Needless to say, I am humbled. She missed her calling in life - most of her novels are faiar to middling, but ye gods can that woman write essays, and that's a talent I highly appreciate.
As I am not dressed and should be leaving in six minutes, it's time to go!
