| I'm so proud! |
[30 May 2004|07:16am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 nostalgic |
] |
Gotta keep it sporting...
LAW: It is illegal to wear a bulletproof vest while committing a murder.
COUNTRY: USA / STATE: New Jersey
CITATION: 2C:39-13 Unlawful use of body vests.
ACTUAL: A person is guilty of a crime if he uses or wears a body vest while engaged in the commission of, or an attempt to commit, or flight after committing or attempting to commit murder, manslaughter, robbery, sexual assault, burglary, kidnapping, criminal escape or assault under N.J.S.2C:12-1b. Use or wearing a body vest while engaged in the commission of, or an attempt to commit, or flight after committing or attempting to commit a crime of the first degree is a crime of the second degree. Otherwise it is a crime of the third degree.
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| As I was saying...[snort] |
[30 May 2004|06:03am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 sore |
] |
Lucifer. The most misunderstood of all the
ArchAngels, you're most like the ArchAngel of
Light. You've seen the darkside and have opted
for something better. You need better press,
though chances are no one will really
understand your motives.
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| Yawn... |
[29 May 2004|09:14pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 groggy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
"Prime Suspect 2" in the background |
] |
Yaddayadda, so what else is new...
Damn you! No really... you are the incarnation of
evil itself. You are the Devil, The Father of
Lies, Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, whatever you
choose. You rule over hell and most of earth
even though you aren't supposed to interfere
with humans. But you're evil! So naturally you
break all the rules.
What Incarnation of Immortality are you? (wonderful pictures)
brought to you by Quizilla
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| gee, what a surprise |
[13 Jul 2003|08:01pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 satisfied |
] |
Leather Dyke:
You probably have a closet consisting mostly of
wife beaters or white pocket tees, a leather
jacket, mens boots, and leather pants or levis.
You're pretty agressive when it comes to
dating, you definitely like to be on top!
What Kind Of Lesbian Stereotype Are You???
brought to you by Quizilla
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| Isn't that what secret identities are for...? |
[06 May 2003|09:37am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 silly |
] |
A couple in Goteborg, Sweden have been officially denied permission to name their baby "Staalman" (Superman). The tax authority, the government agency which rules on such things in Sweden, gave a thumbs-down because it "might lead to discomfort for the person who uses it" -- even though the parents pointed out, with brilliant logic, that being named Fantommen or Tarzan would be a lot worse. Aww.
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[03 May 2003|11:42am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 exhausted |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Ducks/Stars, game 5 |
] |
Upon being given Stephen King's On Writing and told to take it to heart:
Ideas and dazzling prose may be the stuff that some surmise
To lurk behind the puzzlement in my unfocused eyes.
But me, I'm wishing they'd pick on somebody their own size --
Or find me a front, so folks won't realise...
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh!
Ghost writers in disguise...
Though seeking out an exit from this nasty little trap
Just gets me wounded looks and now and then a hefty thwap,
This kind of concentration's guaranteed to make me snap --
I need me a stooge, whose stuff won't turn to crap...
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh!
Ghost writers in disguise...
Of sanity mere tattered shreds are all that I retain
From battering my head into the pain without the gain,
So since the loaded Glock would never get aboard the plane --
The proxy can type, while I hitchhike to Maine...
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh!
Ghost writers in disguise...
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| Thank you, Angel... |
[03 Apr 2003|09:37am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 creative |
] |
...for finally being so tedious/lame/generally wretched that I couldn't even leave you on as background noise, and thus switched over to Twilight Zone -- just in time to catch a story featuring Woolvett and Cobb. Heh.
(Though I will admit to a slight curiosity as to what happened with good old Skip...)
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| heh |
[27 Mar 2003|09:17pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 giggly |
] |
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| Whoo-hoo!! |
[11 Mar 2003|11:10pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 relieved |
] |
After extended computer problems, I am back. Not anything to cause a ripple in the world at large, but it's doing my nerves a lot of good...!
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| FYI |
[05 Feb 2003|07:48am] |
OZ fans in the NY Metro area -- Fontana and members of the cast will be doing a book-signing for OZ: BEHIND THESE WALLS: THE JOURNAL OF AUGUSTUS HILL on Tuesday the 18th, at the B&N on Fifth & 48th.
Much envy and homesickness.
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| Leftovers |
[05 Feb 2003|07:32am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 busy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
"Good Day LA" |
] |
Couple of things from yesterday that I never got a chance to mention.
Somehow couldn't stop myself from watching coverage of the Columbia memorial service, although I kept the volume very low, soft yet pervasive in the background of other activties. Perhaps that's why I was particularly unnerved when a Navy choir started singing "Eternal Father" -- aka, "For those in peril on the sea", seemingly appropriate but inextricably connected to Titanic (mind you, I'm a 'rivet-counter' from waaaay back). The reminder of tragic hubris was disturbing enough, since I will always be a strong proponent of a manned space programme. But moving from that to contemplating tragic hubris on a shoestring budget and a lot of lip service...whoa.
Far more pleasant thought: a slightly belated but happy birthday to Junior Mintz. Tallboy slicks is on me, son.
Still haven't watched last night's Buffy, but will be very interested to see if any of my dubious suspicions were justified/accurate. Did see SV; still mulling that, though I keep being distracted by the hot and wonderful (and hot) Allison Mack. Mmm.
One of the stories on (rapidly-approaching) deadline decided to totally reframe itself on me last night, which means that I've been thrown virtually all the way back to square one. Tick tick. Need I articulate my joy?
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[02 Feb 2003|12:49pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
productive |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
NHL All-Star Game |
] |
Trying to have a relatively normal Sunday and not dwell too much on thoughts of Columbia... Watching the game (3-2 West at the moment, and poor Patty, having the first goal of the game get past him...!) and making a big pot of split pea soup from scratch. Let's hope I don't get so caught up that I forget to check the water level and end up with pretty green cement. [g] Very easy to do, since I've got favourites on both sides, and it's, you know, hockey.
Hopefully will get some writing done later, as I have two stories on deadline and at least one other massive project I'm really hoping not to get dragged into but can't seem to get off my back. I'd thought when I nuked about 95% of my dusty, looming WiPs I'd be home free; doesn't seem to be working that way, though.
I think I need a beer...
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| In Memoriam, STS-107 |
[01 Feb 2003|11:38am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 sad |
] |
I woke up around 6am this morning, contemplating observation of the happy arrival of the Year of the Sheep (the black sheep, which I figured had to be my year). Instead, I discovered that NASA had just lost contact with Columbia, and waited in the terrible silence until the passing minutes made acknowledgment of the truth unavoidable.
No hope for the shuttle or her crew. They're gone. Despite the emergency gear in place since Challenger, the conditions under which it would be of any use are so limited that there's no chance they made it. Now reports are coming in from across Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas. Debris raining down on Ft Worth, Plano, Nacogdoches, Corsicana and the southeast pine country. Fires. Still nothing certain as to the cause, of course, although the leading theory at present seems to be that a piece of insulation coming loose was what made the ship lose attitude control before the breakup. At least it's been confirmed that the altitude at which it occurred rules out terrorism -- though I still anticipate that belief to have currency with some people, along with conspiracy theories that the US blew it up to justify a war that has increasingly been losing support at home and abroad.
I have been around a very long time. A lot of Januarys. In one of them, when I was very young and another unpopular war was going on, a fire took Apollo 1 and broke my heart. In another, I was newly arrived in the freezing boonies when Challenger rooted me in the middle of the room, too numb and dislocated even to notice the mug of scalding tea I'd just dropped all over myself. And now this, one day off. These days, my outside is warm, and the shuttles rattle my house as they boom overhead on their approach to Edwards. It's always brought me a sort of wild joy. I hope it still will.
Disasters of any kind give me the intense need to act. Couldn't stay in, couldn't find calm in the coffee shop ritual... I know, tragedies large and small happen constantly. People die every day -- far too many of them innocents, as we've been made very aware. Yet somehow, this remains different, and I just can't seem to be still right now.
Only yesterday, someone's comment sent me back to one of my favourite books, which I hadn't read in some while, and I can't help but be reminded of part of it as I think of the families, friends and comrades of the Columbia crew:
Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
and the ways you go be the lines on your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
and your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well loved one,
walk mindfully, well loved one,
walk fearlessly, well loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
be always coming home.
Rick Husband
William McCool
David Brown
Laurel Clark
Kalpana Chawla
Michael Anderson
Ilan Ramon
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