it's 9:06 a.m., on 2001-06-10 - shalom caravan.

~

I broke down and read the soup opera, and you know what? I think it's one of those things that loses something when you read it and don't know it. Like the buffy series, or even fingerprints. In my playground.

Outside my window, someone's playing U2 and laughing and playing. And it's bloody pissing down rain, but they're still having fun.

I'm okay. I could go in the rain too. It's the little things that count.

~*~

I started reading Sassy, even the Sassy that's n-related, because I do these kinds of things for my friends. She started talking about London, and the three and more of us being there.

"And there'd be the unavoidable wmf references. With Lise Izzy-ing it, and River Ricky-ing it, and myself being far too Alex. The danger being we'd get so far into the metaphor, we forget that they're just shadows and we're the real thing. Unless they aren't, and we're their shadows, and there's this world of Ideas and for a moment, something slipped through."

I like that. And then again, I don't.

She also quoted the Brave New World quote in a different entry, and I liked that too. I found it, but she applied it to London.

" 'But I don't want comfort. I want god, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.' (said by the Savage)

'In fact,' said Mustapha Mond, 'you're claiming the right to be unhappy.'

'All right then,' said the Savage defiantly, 'I am claiming the right to be unhappy.' "

It's spilled milk-able, except I want River's version, and I forgot to write it down, so that's that.

~*~

I feel like redesigning something along the lines of the 'world without shrimp'. Perhaps the Anya site-- oh, I like the design I've got, but it's too dark. I wanted a light design, but all the pictures I found that I wanted had such dismally dark backgrounds.

I don't have any permissions for those stories yet. Must fix that soon.

These things hold very little weight in the air, but I say them to remind myself that I have hobbies aside from claiming the right to be unhappy-- and happy, too.

~*~

It's much, much later.

I have just spent around an hour searching through the depths of yahoogroups to try and find m'self an Anya-centric fanfic list... and guess what? There isn't one. So, I was like, silly, and I made one. I don't even know what I'm going to do with it. Probably let it languish and pretend that it's doing some good.

So, like, join, and make me feel happy. Or something.

And, oh, yes, I'm going to continue with the Anya archive. I *am* a masochistic thing, after all. And after that, I might just try and do Darla.

--don't we all want to do Darla. And Emma Frost. And Irene Adler.

Oh, and? I'm a member of 115 mailing lists on yahoogroups.

I think I should just get into whips. It might be easier torture than this.

~*~

It's eight thirty seven in the morning, and I'm hungry, so let's eat.

Woaaah whoa.

I have the desire to design a gypsies website, complete with road signs and pictures of their airstream.

But of course, I have my hands full, thanks. Good god, but do I have my hands full.

While I'm on the topic, if any of you have Anya fic, send it to me. Love me. You know you want to. :)

I haven't gotten properly dressed since thursday; most of the time I've been mostly naked to combat the heat. I know, that's probably far too much information, but we've all agreed that we have to be exhibitionists to do this.

Hey, guys. I think pilar would make a fucking great mechanic for the caravan.

We could all drive off in a row. And spike could be the one in the back rolling a joint; Dawn watching him to see how it was done. We could live it, m'darlings.

--I need to get more sleep. Shalom.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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