Fluff

[lhexa]

I'm nearly done, and now's a good time for various asides, and neat little things.

I think the month of involution will fulfill its purposes. I am certainly feeling accomplished, right now. (Oh, and something or other by Sarah McLachlan is playing. Don't know which song.)

In the tally of entries thus far, there are: one new "Best Entry in Lhexa's LJ," finally knocking "First mention of the pursuit of youth" off its stand; one entry hijacked by an intuitive purpose (I expected many more); *counts* five great entries; too many good one-liners to try counting; less mediocrity than I expected; only-you-know-how-many stunned moments while reading; zero words not meant.

Yeah, I'm definitely moody. Which, at one point, led to vulnerability, then pain. There were unusually many transformative emotions, too...

Also, while writing the entry whose expansive mood caused such vulnerability, I listened to Sarah McLachlan's "Mirrorball", and sung along with it. Over, and over. And over.

Nothing on my journal is friends-locked, and nothing ever will be. Isolation protects me better than secrecy, at the moment. And if the worst happens, well, what's the worst that can happen?

I will never again do any month-long one-entry-per-day thing. Damnit, for the last two weeks I didn't do anything not connected to the writing. Work included. This winter vacation, I only get next week for having fun.

Had an awesome trance-dream the other day, in which I was able to clearly read an LJ comment, and wake up remembering both the situation and the content. But what's best about this dream is that it refutes the factoid of not being able to read anything in a dream. The writing was coherent and meaningful, although the verb tense in the sentence I seized was wrong.

Self-control is having a dozen-plus unread LJ notification emails sitting there, every time you check your email. I wasn't able to keep myself from reading friends' journals, by the way.

I don't like LJ's date/time marking system. The previous entry is marked 7 PM, but I finished it at 11:30 PM. That was written far more quickly than usual, actually; two others took three and four days, and each time they cost me the extra days I had gained by writing ahead (which I haven't gained back, as it happens; this one's being written December 31st).

An exercise for an anthropology class: plenty of religions have one pray on one's knees, or even bowed on the floor. But do any advise praying on one's back? Why not?

Samus morphs into ball mode, and rolls into the deadly lava. After a difficult traversal involving bombs and crawling things, she emerges, with little health left, in a secret room. And there she finds a new powerup! She grabs it, a sublime little melody plays, and on her visor a message informs her, "Your capacity for suffering has increased by one unit!"

There were a couple of things I wrote that would've made good entries, but wouldn't have fit in the progression of entries. One's too long to put here; and the other is:

An amateur writes himself into his story. A professional writes the world into his story. An artist writes his story into himself. A master writes his story into the world.

When my mind is occupied by a tortured allegory of The Fox as Hunted Beast, it's really a breath of fresh air to check my friends page and see someone talking about having sex with one. Also: At first I planned to write a Reynard story for one of the entries, but I couldn't bring the various pieces together in time. What I had was two traditional stories put together in an awkward way, and would've taken too long to get to work right.

*takes a deep breath*

As if I've never hunted, myself. As if I've never been caught!

Comments

[lhexa.livejournal.com]

*grins* Now, why did I wonder whether that line, specifically, would stand out to you?

Maybe I should get more writers on my friends list.