May. 21st, 2009

karanguni: (HUGHES junshou)
Because mostly I am spending this week failing to do anything but getting up and going to work. 8D

THE ANONYMOUS WRITING FEEDBACK MEME


RIP ME APART LIKE A BODICE, GO! It's on LJ, but there are anonymous commentseses, so you can go suck their server power if you'd so like! 8D

Must... catch... up... with... fandom... this... weekend...
karanguni: (Default)
Concrit on the writing meme, watching Trek for the second time, three day "weekend" that involves a lot of public speaking, darkrooms, Photoshop and code: my favourite brew.

>:D Writing is so happening tonight, even though (especially because) I have to be up at 7 tomorrow morning.

Live long and prosper.

*GLEEFUL*

[edit] Also, hilariously enough, I don't know how I get the dancer to change directions, but once I do I can't change her back, and now I am FIXATED.

[edit] To get her to swing counter I get her to swing out her leg; to get her to swing clockwise I get her to squeeze down on her crotch. OR IS THAT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. HELP.

[edit] AUGH and I can only do it with my laptop tilted 90 degrees clockwise!

[edit] Am now getting her to do some sort of retarded on-the-stop forward facing can-can competition with herself, though I usually default to clockwise. Must... stop... looking... It's all in the back of the calves!

[edit] LAST EDIT I SWEAR. It is sad, but thinking of porn makes her swing clockwise, and thinking of square roots swings her anti. I'm sure that if I was told that clockwise = left brain instead of clockwise = right brain, the opposite would be true. DONE NOW. Tomorrow, Evil Spock/Tseng in action flick style fic... somehow with plot!

 

A universe of unmapped grief and love
And new master light is beyond
The pleiades and plow and southern stars.

O soaring
Icarus of outworld, burn bright
The traceries of known skymarks,
Slide the highway planets behind
Your clear waxed wings.

Go conquer the everywhere left
Beyond your sad confinement
In a predicted bonehouse,
Witch thrown riddle of flesh
And water.

O soar until nothing
remains but great glittering holes
In the black godspun shirt over your head.

- John Fairfax