fictional: (not sorry)
I'm supposed to be thesis-writing...
Which is why I'm posting.

I heard that TW-fandom has had a little poetical excitement re: John Barrowman while I was away in the Desert of the Real.

So... er... I decided to present y'all with a small sample of my *ahem* lyrical stylings.
[[ profile] rm dared me to post it at [ profile] dalekinthepond. I'm reposting here for those of y'all who don't read that ;-) ]

Title: He Walks In Beauty Like The Night
Rating: 13+
Pairing/Characters: John Barrowman, Captain Jack Harkness, OFC
Warning/Spoilers/Notes: So I was having a little conversation with [ profile] rm about fans, celebrity, and verse. This was the result. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Disclaimer: It's all true, baby. Except not.
Summary: ~I want a dream lover so I don't have to dre-e-am alone...~ )

Meanwhile: cancer continues on apace, but hopefully paces slower than the chemo. The lung tumor, is, we're told, shrinking -- but it seems unclear as to what that means in real life (or death?) terms. Insurance battle goes on, but is at this precise moment out of my hands -- and with the neurosurgeons who are appealing the decision -- they seem to think they'll have better success getting the 50 grand out of Empire Blue Cross Blue Shield than they will out of us, which makes a certain amount of sense.

I've been pretty depressed lately.

But I seem to have had some social engagements here and there: Dave took me to see Chicago, he, D., Tam and I had a post show Bacchanalian Revel (I'm still a smidge hungover...). The sunrise was pretty. I haven't seen one from that end for a while. Tam's taking me to the ballet tomorrow night - it appears to be about pirates! (Le Corsaire from the Byron poem @ ABT which is extremely awesome.)

However, one assumes that I will get back to the internets SOMEDAY. To that end, I've got a dreamwidth account courtesy of [ profile] bentley who rocks like a rocking thing. I'm over there -- it's almost completely empty at this point, but at some point I'll make it all spiffy, so please do let me know if you're on there! At some point soon (for a given value of soon) I will begin cross posting etc.

Also, I got twitter -- that is, I registered a number of names.

[Poll #1405703]

I miss y'all like whoa.
fictional: (Default)
I'm drinking gin & juice.
Kill me now.
I wonder if I'm becoming a lush.
fictional: (the look)
there's something weird about this place, i tell you. it seems perfectly normal if you don't spend much time here. it might even seem appealing. there are several beautiful gorges, there's a town full of hippies, a prestigious college with ivy covered stone and brick buildings. wholesome, quaint, peaceful.

but no. it drives one to drink, to attempt to fuzz out the low grade depressive fog that hangs over everything. someone once remarked to me that this place resembles a horror movie set, just before the blood starts gushing. the trees don't seem happy, except in the old graveyard, where i suppose they cheer themselves up by munching and then photo-synthesizing dead people.

anyway, so we went drinking last night, to Stella's (one of the few establishments in this place that i feel safe in.) i like the coffee house, and the bar, and the music is never offensive. after several shots of expensive tequila, corona's and long island iced teas, the world seemed a much happier and more giggly place.

and then we went home, and stayed up much, much too late.

this morning, three things seemed clear.
1) there's a beautiful glistening sharpness that a slight hangover brings to a cool bright sunlight filled day;
2) i quite like the look of myself in leather and chains; and
3) i never deep cleaned my apartment after the hot water pipes exploded and flooded the whole place, and that needs to happen.
right now.

well, maybe after i take a bath...


fictional: (Default)

August 2009

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