katallison

Beautiful, beautiful day, the kind of weather that causes one to remember why one puts up with Minnesota's multifarious meteorological miseries; cool, clear, fresh, brilliantly sunny, and everything in the full lush leaf and flower of high midsummer.

Which means I'm in the grip of my usual Beautiful Weather Affective Disorder, and am trying to focus instead on the list of concrete tasks to be accomplished this weekend. I've already cleaned out an amazing assortment of putrefying biomass from the refrigerator; once dishes are washed, I'll start on tonight's dinner. (Crockpot carnitas, not particularly authentic but dead simple; put a big chunk of pork loin or shoulder in the crockpot along with a quartered onion, quartered jalapeno, some chopped garlic, chopped cilantro, cumin, bay leaf, and enough chicken stock and/or beer to mostly cover. Cook 4-6 hours. (That's on high; on low, make it 8-10 hours.) Remove, drain/shred meat, serve with fresh corn tortillas, fresh salsa, avocado, refried beans, and beer aplenty. Yum.)

And because I am braindead, today's game, gacked from Metachat:

( What do you have on your computer desk? )

That haiku generator thingie is great addictive fun. Of the various katallison combos I've gotten, I'm very fond of:

on pretzels and drink
cheap champagne friday music
yay this is going on

But I think my all-time favorite is:

may you rot in hell
because you are going to go
to one of your stories

Oh, yes.

...or, Kat Attempts to Originate and Propagate the Self-Crit Meme.

Because I am fearsomely avoidant these days about actually writing, I've been doing some rereading and brooding over stuff I've already written, and it struck me that -- if the rest of you are anything like me, with every story you've finished and posted, there's always, glimmering somewhere in your mind, the Platonic Ideal of the story you wanted to write, and then there's the flawed and falling-short reality of what actually made it into prose. And you rub your face and sip Irish whisky and mourn to yourself about the emotion that you couldn't quite pull off, or the stuff you probably should've yanked out, or the thing that you just couldn't make work quite the way you'd envisioned.

So, my idea -- for one/some/any or all of your stories, let us know what that thing was, what you really wanted to do and couldn't quite achieve.
( My own, put on cutaway because this is actually not likely to be interesting to anyone who's not me... )

I said I was going to do this, right? So let's see...

Total Volume of Music Files on My Computer: Hm, they're scattered around a bit, but it appears to be around 1.2 GB. Which is a pretty amazing uptick from, say, a month ago.

Last CD I Bought: If we're talking "physically bought in an actual store," then it would be a used copy of the Itzhak Perlman/Pinchas Zukerman recording of the Bach D Minor Double Concerto, because I needed the 2nd movement to play at my dad's funeral, and I'd become unhappy with my old Isaac Stern/whoever version. (Mr. P. hates Stern's playing with a fiery passion, and he has won me over to his way of thinking.)

Last Music I Listened to Before Doing This Meme: Silly Sisters No More to the Dance, while working out at the gym.

Five Songs I Listened to a Lot This Week:
6'1", Liz Phair, an old favorite with marvelous energizing powers.
Pink Moon, Nick Drake, soundtrack to a vid I'll never make.
Quitting Time, The Roches, for story-pondering purposes.
1952 Vincent Black Lightning, Richard Thompson, because I just love this song.
Big Dipper, Cracker, which Mr. P. of all people sent to me out of the blue, saying "This is such a cool song, " and it is, wistful and melancholy.

And let's see, who can I tag with this who hasn't done it already . . .

the_shoshanna, who needs a distraction from The Peeing Cat,

namastenancy, who needs distraction from crazymaking politics,

tazlet, who's recovering from surgery and probably doesn't need the aggro but could use distraction,

eliade, who may have been tagged already, I can't remember, but was last seen trapped in a loveless cubicle of boredom and needs distraction, and

flambeau who sent me lovely lovely music and probably doesn't need distraction of any kind but I'd love to know what she's listening to right now.

For

pearl_o, who asked people to post some fannish squee, I am sticking up the first few bits of my contribution to the Favorite Fanfic Moments, DS Edition. There will be more to come, but I was having social life this evening and didn't get finished...( Read more... )

...and also quite flattered. Thank goodness I resulted in being myself, otherwise I'd be a bit worried.

(Which Highlander Fanfic Writer Are You?)

( cut for results... )

I am a Quizilla test result. Golly. I think my life is all downhill from here.

( A totally silly meme... )

The "give us one sentence from your WIPs" meme appears to have morphed into "wee snippets from your WIPs," which is fine with me, since relatively few single sentences are able to stand on their own in a provocative way. That's my excuse, anyway.( snippety snip snip... )

And now, having scanned through the WIPs to dig these out, I really want to stay home and write, dammit. Good things it's Friday.

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30

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The one that got away...

Music Meme

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Laughing so hard I think I hurt something ...

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November 2009

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