No new pages... I know I am a sad sack. Blame Frisky Dingo. I watched both seasons today via the PS3. I must buckle down, work starts again on Monday. BOOOOO!!!!!
Anywho, have a safe New Years. Next up the inauguration. Color me excited.
until then,
R.L.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
outline done
Just a minor update on the project. I am writing it as we speak and I am on page 5. Amazing what a little confab can do. Is that a word? Confab?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
just to be silly
i like the way you work it. No diggity. Hey-o, hey-o, hey-o. Followed by incoherent gibberish and tons of self-indulgent shout outs. I blame Joseph for this and Semi-Charmed Life that followed it.
I feel old.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
crystal rodd-dayzs
to say very little but have it add to something, i will say this.
I am drunk unintentionally.
and fiona apple is a perfect companion to alcoholism...as is tv on the radio.
i am sitting at home after months on the road and now waiting on my roomie to return home so i can challenge him to wii bowling.
until then,
I am drunk unintentionally.
and fiona apple is a perfect companion to alcoholism...as is tv on the radio.
i am sitting at home after months on the road and now waiting on my roomie to return home so i can challenge him to wii bowling.
until then,
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Pink Ribbon Girl
Second of character sketches for the joint venture between Luis and myself. i did this one also as a first person narrative. i really like this character. it took awhile for her to come to me but she did. i was in new york walking on central park west towards the Natural History Museum and she slowly showed herself to me. i have to be honest with you here, i got closer to this one than i normally like to. so close, in fact, i have been avoiding typing this. right now i am avoiding it by typing this ridiculously long introduction. well it is time. i present to you Pink Ribbon Girl:
I have this nagging feeling. I do not know where it's coming from and that bothers me. I always know. I should clarify. I rarely do not know and when I don't I find out. I always find out. Nothing escapes me. Except for this. I can't expect you to understand. You would look at me and see what most see. I am beautiful. Long straight black hair, with honey-colored eyes, and legs for days. You also realize when you see me that you can never have me. I am so above you and you know it. But this feeling, it is leveling the playing field. I am not at ease. I am out of my game and I don't like it.
Nothing escapes me. I never want for anything. Everything works for me, it always has. But this feeling doesn't obey. It's growing too. It is starting to make me question me. Who am I to think the world should bend to my whim? It certainly doesn't do that for anyone else. I watch you and your pathetic push and pull against the odds. I don't do that. I shouldn't have to do that. I am above that. How am I above that? I am a person, right? I eat. I sleep. I have a heart and lungs. But I never hurt. I never need. I have no urges. Is that being alive? It must be. I am alive. Right?
Maybe I am alive now. I never worried, wanted, or needed until now. This nagging feeling. Does that make me alive?
I don't know. I do know it has something to do with my new charge, Harriot. I like her. She reminds me of myself in a kind of fun house mirror sort of way. All the pieces are there just way out of proportion. She is key, that much I know. Her and my long pink ribbon.
I have this nagging feeling. I do not know where it's coming from and that bothers me. I always know. I should clarify. I rarely do not know and when I don't I find out. I always find out. Nothing escapes me. Except for this. I can't expect you to understand. You would look at me and see what most see. I am beautiful. Long straight black hair, with honey-colored eyes, and legs for days. You also realize when you see me that you can never have me. I am so above you and you know it. But this feeling, it is leveling the playing field. I am not at ease. I am out of my game and I don't like it.
Nothing escapes me. I never want for anything. Everything works for me, it always has. But this feeling doesn't obey. It's growing too. It is starting to make me question me. Who am I to think the world should bend to my whim? It certainly doesn't do that for anyone else. I watch you and your pathetic push and pull against the odds. I don't do that. I shouldn't have to do that. I am above that. How am I above that? I am a person, right? I eat. I sleep. I have a heart and lungs. But I never hurt. I never need. I have no urges. Is that being alive? It must be. I am alive. Right?
Maybe I am alive now. I never worried, wanted, or needed until now. This nagging feeling. Does that make me alive?
I don't know. I do know it has something to do with my new charge, Harriot. I like her. She reminds me of myself in a kind of fun house mirror sort of way. All the pieces are there just way out of proportion. She is key, that much I know. Her and my long pink ribbon.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
anger management
i am a chill individual but i have my moments. moments where given the right circumstances i want to unleash the fury of hades. i bring this up because for the last couple of weeks my fuse seems to have gotten shorter.
background... i travel for work. so i am rarely in the same place for more than two weeks at a time. i have spent maybe a month in my apartment since i moved into it. not all at one time mind you just cumulatively since i moved in this past February. i like what i do so that is no bother.
given that when i show up at one of my employer's establishments (huge company!) i am usually greeted with some varying degree of incompetence. no worries right. i can deal. this is what i do. i help make them better, stronger, faster, yada yada.
but this go round. i was not doing it correctly.
huh?
yeah. i do not claim to be the smartest guy but i know my shit. and this is my shit. who are you to tell me my shit is wrong? i am here specifically for this shit. i live, eat, breathe, and help plan this shit. but i am wrong? go lick donkey balls, sweaty hairy donkey testes.
don't try to be my friend after you discover i know what the hell i am doing. don't shorten my name like we are frat brothers and you just boinked my mom and we are gonna bump fist and make it all go away.
don't get your feelings hurt when i ignore the living shit out of you because i have turned off my douche radar.
don't think because i am involved in a friendly conversation with a group of your people you can saunter up and join because they know what you did. i told them and they all agree you are a total d-bag.
finally...
do fail to make eye contact with me when you praise the work i have done.
until then,
R.L.
background... i travel for work. so i am rarely in the same place for more than two weeks at a time. i have spent maybe a month in my apartment since i moved into it. not all at one time mind you just cumulatively since i moved in this past February. i like what i do so that is no bother.
given that when i show up at one of my employer's establishments (huge company!) i am usually greeted with some varying degree of incompetence. no worries right. i can deal. this is what i do. i help make them better, stronger, faster, yada yada.
but this go round. i was not doing it correctly.
huh?
yeah. i do not claim to be the smartest guy but i know my shit. and this is my shit. who are you to tell me my shit is wrong? i am here specifically for this shit. i live, eat, breathe, and help plan this shit. but i am wrong? go lick donkey balls, sweaty hairy donkey testes.
don't try to be my friend after you discover i know what the hell i am doing. don't shorten my name like we are frat brothers and you just boinked my mom and we are gonna bump fist and make it all go away.
don't get your feelings hurt when i ignore the living shit out of you because i have turned off my douche radar.
don't think because i am involved in a friendly conversation with a group of your people you can saunter up and join because they know what you did. i told them and they all agree you are a total d-bag.
finally...
do fail to make eye contact with me when you praise the work i have done.
until then,
R.L.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Priscilla Penelope Cooper
i am co-writing a story with my hetero-life mate luis. he has thus far completed three character profiles and i shall now add to this with the mother of the "main" character Harriot. you can check out his character profiles on his blog. i have treated my profile a little different and will have the character speak directly to you.
My name is Priscilla Penelope Cooper. I was born the 31st of August 1910. I met my husband, the late Oliver Wesley Cooper in the summer of my seventeenth year. We were engaged the fall of that same year and married the following spring. From our blessed union was born one child, Harriot Annalynn Cooper. Oliver thought it best to wait for children and I was inclined to agree. He was in the military and gave his life to our nation in the summer of 1944 at Normandy. I have not and shall not remarry. I have a comfortable life and men do tend to complicate things. My dearest friend and neighbor Joan agrees with me on this; she too was widowed but unlike me remarried. Joan complains to no end about her new husband. She spends most of her free time with me. Being as she only has a dog and no children I see Joan everyday.
My daughter, Harriot, and I are not close. I will shoulder some blame for this, but not all. I can see now if I had remarried a male influence may have helped her and me. She is nearly twenty-five and still not one proposal or any suitors. There is that one boy, odd little twitchy fellow, but fortunately I can see her lack of interest in him. Thank heavens. He is very protective of her. But the way he watches her sometimes. Almost like he could give up everything he is and has for her I find quite disturbing. Of course if she waits much longer he may be her only recourse for a family of her own.
I do try my best for Harriot. Giving her tips on her appearance. Her clothing, hair, etiquette what have you. Things any mother does for their daughter. What does Harriot do? She ignores me. Not a nod, not a blink, not a sigh. She will simply look at me and change the subject almost as if none of it matters to her. It is just so gosh darn infuriating. Pardon me. That outburst was inexcusable. I love my daughter. I am very proud of her. She's a nurse and smart enough to be a doctor. I wish she understood that. All I do and ever have done have been out of my endless love for her. I just don't think she understands the way the world works.
I also have this suspicion that something else is going on. She would never tell me of that much I am sure. So I will just have to find out for myself.
Mrs. Priscilla Penelope Cooper
My name is Priscilla Penelope Cooper. I was born the 31st of August 1910. I met my husband, the late Oliver Wesley Cooper in the summer of my seventeenth year. We were engaged the fall of that same year and married the following spring. From our blessed union was born one child, Harriot Annalynn Cooper. Oliver thought it best to wait for children and I was inclined to agree. He was in the military and gave his life to our nation in the summer of 1944 at Normandy. I have not and shall not remarry. I have a comfortable life and men do tend to complicate things. My dearest friend and neighbor Joan agrees with me on this; she too was widowed but unlike me remarried. Joan complains to no end about her new husband. She spends most of her free time with me. Being as she only has a dog and no children I see Joan everyday.
My daughter, Harriot, and I are not close. I will shoulder some blame for this, but not all. I can see now if I had remarried a male influence may have helped her and me. She is nearly twenty-five and still not one proposal or any suitors. There is that one boy, odd little twitchy fellow, but fortunately I can see her lack of interest in him. Thank heavens. He is very protective of her. But the way he watches her sometimes. Almost like he could give up everything he is and has for her I find quite disturbing. Of course if she waits much longer he may be her only recourse for a family of her own.
I do try my best for Harriot. Giving her tips on her appearance. Her clothing, hair, etiquette what have you. Things any mother does for their daughter. What does Harriot do? She ignores me. Not a nod, not a blink, not a sigh. She will simply look at me and change the subject almost as if none of it matters to her. It is just so gosh darn infuriating. Pardon me. That outburst was inexcusable. I love my daughter. I am very proud of her. She's a nurse and smart enough to be a doctor. I wish she understood that. All I do and ever have done have been out of my endless love for her. I just don't think she understands the way the world works.
I also have this suspicion that something else is going on. She would never tell me of that much I am sure. So I will just have to find out for myself.
Mrs. Priscilla Penelope Cooper
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
no more stupid questions
i work in a world where i am bombarded with stupid questions.
there is no such thing as a stupid question. STFU! i hear them all day.
okay so it is not the questions that are stupid but the way they are asked.
like they already know the answer and are just testing me. guess what dillhole, i am done taking test until i get off my ass and do the GRE. i don't need some cigarette smelling, yellow teeth having, track suit adorned, garden shoe wearing....
(pause)
what the frick is the whole garden shoe thing about? it's like i went to sleep for six minutes and wake up and everyone's retarded.
this is not cute. my grandmother own these things and she won't wear them out. and she will wear anything out. this is a woman who answers her door in a bra. they are for gardening not walking. plus what the hell... no. i say stop. STOP NOW! this fad is too much. is this what happens when the terrorist win?
(resume)
slack jawed crossed eyed self indulgent know-it-all quizzing me about things he/she may already know.
or asking the wrong question. which i answer. and then repeating the question. which i answer again and then looking at me like i'm the f'ing retard. i forgot my ability to read minds at home teacher can i have my Mommy bring to school for me.
my favorite, and by favorite i mean: "Dear God, Please give my AIDS cancer" favorite.
the statement question.
not really asked. just put out there in the wide open space. it is almost like watching a puppy drown each and every day...
until then,
rl.
there is no such thing as a stupid question. STFU! i hear them all day.
okay so it is not the questions that are stupid but the way they are asked.
like they already know the answer and are just testing me. guess what dillhole, i am done taking test until i get off my ass and do the GRE. i don't need some cigarette smelling, yellow teeth having, track suit adorned, garden shoe wearing....
(pause)
what the frick is the whole garden shoe thing about? it's like i went to sleep for six minutes and wake up and everyone's retarded.
this is not cute. my grandmother own these things and she won't wear them out. and she will wear anything out. this is a woman who answers her door in a bra. they are for gardening not walking. plus what the hell... no. i say stop. STOP NOW! this fad is too much. is this what happens when the terrorist win?
(resume)
slack jawed crossed eyed self indulgent know-it-all quizzing me about things he/she may already know.
or asking the wrong question. which i answer. and then repeating the question. which i answer again and then looking at me like i'm the f'ing retard. i forgot my ability to read minds at home teacher can i have my Mommy bring to school for me.
my favorite, and by favorite i mean: "Dear God, Please give my AIDS cancer" favorite.
the statement question.
not really asked. just put out there in the wide open space. it is almost like watching a puppy drown each and every day...
until then,
rl.
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