it's 12:05 a.m., on 2001-06-28 - the triumvirate of brian kinney.
~
I have a few things to say before I forget them. I'll get to the rest after.
Rest of what? Dunno. But.
--First of all, I'm trying to steal the way Sheila's journal doesn't change text size, but it's not working. And it's becoming very frustrating. I mean, I know I should learn it on my own, and I'm trying damnit. With examples, is all.
Doesn't matter. It's not working. (I'd love suggestions as to what the fuck I'm doing wrong. It's something css. That much I'm pretty sure of. ;) ))
--Second of all. Al says that having a livejournal for writing is trendy. I feel mildly upset, but nowhere near as upset as if I was *a* heavily invested in writing in it or *b* heavily invested in livejournal. See, I thought I was being rather political, following qB and using livejournal strictly for writing... avoid the infighting that happens in the x-men fandom so commonly.
If I don't say stuff there, people won't involve me. Hah. But I can pretend.
But it seems that no, livejournal is where *everyone* who's *anyone* is putting their writing. (And I don't mean that nearly as, ah, sarcastically? as it sounds. Eh.) I can deal. Most of it's n-related, except Alicia and qB, so it's not like it's going to affect me. That's why I didn't know about it in the first place.
Really, I just want to have that little program post cute little things and automatically detect my music. That's the attraction. That and I can right-click on the systray and have it answer the question 'what are my friends doing?'
I'm such a sucker for shit like that. How can you not lust after a program that has 'what are my friends doing?' in the menu?
Anyway.
--Third of all. Al's got a writing journal now. And I ventured over, and I think, I don't have a community any more, because paralytic fear went through me at the thought of posting in it. I like being a voyeur. I rarely answer people's posts unless they're either directly at me, qB, or Alicia. Because I can sort of talk about writing, if I am an authority on nothing else.
Well. Authority is relative. Compared to, say, scuba diving or nasty fighting or line dancing. Though I posted about Scott linedancing the other day, too.
I think that was the only things I had to say, right now. Onto, upwards, things await.
Met Sue -- the wife/ex-roommate-- and her boyfriend for a movie yesterday. Saw Atlantis. It was a really good movie. People in a disney movie actually died. I was impressed.
I'm this [] close to finishing the next shift story. Just have to get quotes on it, and finish the prologue-- which can stand on its own right now. The massive problem is, of course, that I'm not happy with it and I want to rewrite the sucker until I am. Which is a bad sign, because I'm *still* not happy with renere and that took me just ages.
I mean, ages for me. Which is longer than a week, because I don't work that hard on anything ever. If it doesn't flow like blood and wine, I'll probably abandon it.
No, I'm not a real writer. *g*
--that's not true. I won't abandon it. But it's unlikely for me work that hard on anything.
Oh, right. Fourth of all: an email came through the pride-ubc list about an anthology being put out of queer women and strong-women related stuff. Cartoons, poetry, writing, artwork. Shit like that. I kind of want to send something in (it's in Toronto somewhere) but, of course, I have fear. Don't know. Plus, the story that qualifies the best is really... young. Or, rather, I did it when I was really young.
Not that I'm not still young now.
It's eleven thirty, and I can't decide whether I feel like going to sleep, or finishing the nate story, more. Trish, Cathy, Carrie, Eric, and Rae are all on AIM and I'm not talking to a one. If I go onto IRC it'll just be more people to not talk to. I think I might be hungry; I should take the truck through the drive-thru and chow down on donuts. I can get fat, right? Right. Good.
Thom Yorke, on stage, said, 'murmur murmur... mmmphh.... inane onstage banter.... muurrmph.'
You know what I mean.
~*~
I was reading a queer as folk fic about the season finale (he'll be fine he'll be fine he'll be fine he'll-- sorry, in denial about possible character pain, really really in denial...) and it was promising a Brian/Justin/Mikey story, but delivered only the first part. And a bad first part at that... but it was gratifying.
You know those stories that really suck, but are *happy* so you can forgive them because once and a while you have to have SOMETHING of these characters that won't make you cry, even if it's not true to the show?
Like Beecher/Keller in college. It's hopeless and there's no way you should believe it... but you read it anyway and go 'awww' and feel gratified, even if it sucked.
--okay, I'm just a badfic whore. But anyway. I was reading this, and suddenly this perfect threesome story, based around the idea of the triumvirates in Rome came to me. But I don't have a talent to finish it, so I'm left with:
triangle
'Politics tells us that the least stable basis for any relationship is a tripod.
'History tells us that the fate of many men rest in the stupid split-second decisions between right and left-- every angle examined in hindsight won't illuminate the one in front.
'Friendship, love, and sex. A triumvirate.'
~
And then I asked Rae who she thought Brian would be more crushed to lose, and she said Mikey, at first, and then, 'maybe mikey's just the obvious answer and not the right one. Cause they've got history, but history doesn't always matter.'
And of course, the obvious answer isn't necessarily the right one.
Michael Stipe is singing 'I'm not over you'.
And then rae said, "he makes you get lost in him." Which is pretty much a summation of Brian Kinney.
That very long explanation was leading to, if anyone would like to write this story, let me know, man. I'd owe you. I want to read it, but I can't get past the first line. I mean, forget queer as folk, even. Just, this particular setup. This threesome.
--oh god. I could wmf it. But I'm not going to. Because I'm not neurotic and I don't want to start.
~
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