(no subject)
Jan. 5th, 2003 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katallisonMy god, I feel awful. I have some sort of ultra-vicious chest cold settling in, with the usual concomitant feeling that someone has blasted a blowtorch down my trachea. Note to self: when coming down with the godawful chest crud, do not flump on the sofa and watch Dustin Hoffman in "Outbreak," because you shall be seized with the conviction that you are Patient Zero with the all-new airborne pnuemonic Ebola, and that your lungs are liquefying into sludge.
Also, the story is just inches from finished, which is always the stage, with every story, where I become convinced that it is the most banal, witless, malformed, incoherent piece of tripe ever to constitute an egregious affront to the English language and the human sensibility.
In addition to which, the couple upstairs have been engaged for the last few weeks in intermittent shrieking fights. This began, my hand to god, at fifteen minutes to midnight on Christmas Eve, when I was roused from my peaceful Christmassy slumbers to the sound of yelling, cursing, sobbing, and furniture being shoved violently about, and has persisted at intervals since. I have no idea what this is all about, and the good angel perched on my one shoulder would really very much prefer not to know, while the bad angel on the other shoulder believes that if one's neighbors are going to engage in screaming fights, the very least they can do is scream distinctly enough so one can follow the plotline.
I do rather wish I felt more like a human being this evening, a member in good standing of the species, accountable, dues paid up, on the right side of the velvet rope. Since I don't, going to bed might be an idea. Yes.
Also, the story is just inches from finished, which is always the stage, with every story, where I become convinced that it is the most banal, witless, malformed, incoherent piece of tripe ever to constitute an egregious affront to the English language and the human sensibility.
In addition to which, the couple upstairs have been engaged for the last few weeks in intermittent shrieking fights. This began, my hand to god, at fifteen minutes to midnight on Christmas Eve, when I was roused from my peaceful Christmassy slumbers to the sound of yelling, cursing, sobbing, and furniture being shoved violently about, and has persisted at intervals since. I have no idea what this is all about, and the good angel perched on my one shoulder would really very much prefer not to know, while the bad angel on the other shoulder believes that if one's neighbors are going to engage in screaming fights, the very least they can do is scream distinctly enough so one can follow the plotline.
I do rather wish I felt more like a human being this evening, a member in good standing of the species, accountable, dues paid up, on the right side of the velvet rope. Since I don't, going to bed might be an idea. Yes.
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(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-05 06:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-05 06:52 pm (UTC)God, I wish I could; but tomorrow is (ta daaa!) academic review day, in which I get to phone four or five students and tell them they've been suspended and will not, in fact, be coming back to school in two weeks, and oh yes, they need to move out of the dorm, and find a job, and tell their parents, and so so sorry. Gahhh. My favorite day of the year, needless to say. Wish I could be out there instead, listening to LotR and cooking you oatmeal and urging you on to write. (By the way, Fraser packed up his bag a few days ago and set off westward, on foot, Dief trotting alongside. Look for him to show up at your doorstep in a couple of weeks. He has some story ideas, but he's not going to be importunate about them or anything. If you just have a little bit of floor space where he can spread his bedroll? Yes, that's good, and Dief won't make any trouble, truly, although if you could pick up a box of doughnuts it would likely ease things. Also, for you, he's willing to be an elf, as uneasy as the concept makes him. But he does have quite a few other stories he'd really like to tell you. If it's not too much trouble.)
(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-05 07:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-05 06:51 pm (UTC)*hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-05 06:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-05 07:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-06 05:14 am (UTC)Note to self: when coming down with the godawful chest crud, do not flump on the sofa and watch Dustin Hoffman in "Outbreak," because you shall be seized with the conviction that you are Patient Zero with the all-new airborne pnuemonic Ebola, and that your lungs are liquefying into sludge.
I was reminded the previous weekend not to read Connie Willis' "Doomsday Book" when fighting off the cold your roommate gave you for Christmas. There, if you are feeling rotten enough, you wander between worring about being struck down by either killer flu or the bubonic plague.
Although there is something comforting in watching characters who are obviously much more miserable than oneself.