{} {16 Oct 2006|07:37pm}
{ mood | busy }

my girlfriend picked it for me. a good end to a week from the armpit of HELL. crawling in my skin this schoolwork won't fuck off.
4 lifetimes and still counting.

{wall, skull, wall, skull.} {29 Sep 2006|02:58am}
{ mood | busy }

Exam week is coming up. I have an atrocious amount of shit to do before adifferentdrum flies in on the 5th. I am taking a college-level mathematics course even though basic C++ arithmetic gives me pause, and any and all rationale I had behind either course has deserted me. I have to learn Blender and animate a sword. Also, I have 2 English papers and 1 short story/chapter of a story due, and I don't seem to have a single original thought in my head. Ew eeeew. I'm going to end up with a twisted, dried-up pretzel of a brain.

That being said, House, M.D. season 3, episode 4, was fuckin' amazing. Aaaaaaahkdkf if I could make IV bags out of that kind of genius. There is so much thought put into every minute of that show. I also watched Stick It! which was kind of a weird dichotomy. The technical effort was there -- believable acting and smart dialogue and an absolutely perfect cast and flawless cinematography, but the further you moved to 'higher-level' junk like writer's intent and plot threads, the more contrived things got.

Esquire China shows why Eliott loves football. And this is the how. Ungh. I think I need to invest in that sport.

'The exculpatory power of self-knowledge for hypocrites.' 'The motifs of covenants and contracts in Gawain and the Green Knight.' For Housekeeping I keep coming back to the naming of things: 'Ruth' from the apocryphical Book of Ruth, 'Lucille' which means 'light,' transience, and the whole thing takes place in a town called Fingerbone. See, I can regurgitate a hundred little approved textbook remarks, but none of them wow me. I think I will rewatch House. I should probably try to make use of the notion of 'insincere and thus degrading.'

The construction wall is turning into one of the coolest things on campus, and I can't seem to find the right way to photograph it. My deficiency would be saddening if this fact wasn't kind of cool. It's already a piece of art, on its own terms, without the experiments of some pseudo-lesbian yahoo with her artistic temperament.

scroll from RIGHT to LEFT.Collapse )

they made me check my guitar.

My 20-foot Chad Michael Murray banner arrived. /)_(\ I fail.
5 lifetimes and still counting.

{awa.} {26 Sep 2006|08:45pm}
{ mood | tired }

don kanonjiCollapse )

will & CAPTAIN jackCollapse )

konCollapse )

pyramid head & escortCollapse )

vincent & renoCollapse )

ceylonCollapse )

gaara-SAMACollapse )

*Collapse )

*Collapse )

I was too busy experiencing the awesome to photograph it. Those JPEGs describe about 2% of the weekend, I think. I got everything done on my to-do list except for my hair and gettin' drawn on, because Target failed and Tony Jaah would not be denied.

By now, I have acquired a slew of new faggots on my flist, made many excellent memories, over-familiarized myself with the insides of three different East Coast airports (4 distinct flights, 4 different troubles), and watched the premier of Heroes which was gorey, funny, and cute ("We aren't special, we're Japanese!"). Returning to real life sucked, let me tell you.

This wasn't actually part of the serious suck, but bear with for the funny: earlier today, my housemate held herself hostage with her diet pills to make me try on a cheap checkerboard mini-dress I bought off E-bay. I am proud to say we broke a deal that will cut her medication in half.

Edit: Oh this was particularly memorable. During my flight to the con, I found myself considering, as usual, how it'd go if my plane went up in a fireball. Specifically, I thought about my parents, who I hadn't told about my trip because they're, uh, Chinese. At voeltzwagon's crib, I E-mailed them a message to the effect of 'I'M DOING IT IT'S PAID FOR WITH MY OWN MONEY AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME btw I took care of this, this, and this like this.' My father's reply started with 'This is frightening news!' and ended with, 'When did you get so independent? :)' It was an e-card moment.
12 lifetimes and still counting.

{'trivialities' -- belleiseult} {20 Sep 2006|03:37pm}
{ mood | tired }

The past week, some things came into focus. Sorts of things I'd known for awhile, but hadn't realized. Like, I used to be afraid of people sometimes, then last weekend, my housemate heard of a house party celebrating the acquittal of an accused campus sex offender.

Of course, I then became slightly infatuated with the idea of being able to say I'd walked on 'the rape porch' and shook 'the rapist's hand, so I did. The third girl with us is a bite-sized angel who goes to church, approves of Ron Burgundy and is taking the year off to SAVE THE CHILDREN in Honduras, and the whites of her eyes went all the way around when she realized I wasn't just going to walk on the rape porch -- though, prude jokes aside, I think she was just freaked out because we didn't know one damn soul in the place. Anyway, after we delivered her back home, my housemate and I went back. Hogged the rapist's beer, couches, club mixes, and congratulated said rapist, and ignored better-looking young men who wanted to talk to me. We discussed why I can't date people whom I consider friends and the general consensus is, I'm an aesthetic and asexual jerk: without mystery, there's no tension. It was packed. Fun. Questionable-smelling. HONG KONG REBELS, ALL RIGHT.

Yes, it was silly, but I figure rape houses are something you should get over with in college for a few hours, before the campus police bust in the way they did this weekend, just so you can say you did. And uh, you have to do something to earn my fear, and you have to do something to lose my respect. I think that's a better way for me to think of people, though I'm sure some would say my default settings are a little too optimistic.

I also discovered I actually do have time-management and study skills, not that I choose to use them.

I lost my webmaster job to someone who works cheaper, which is to say, he's work-study. I vaguely considered vandalizing the Asian American Center website, maybe leave a big slashy B in the wallpaper (where 'slashy B' may or may not entail butt-porn) but I used up my skills on time-management and studying, so. I need a new job. AWA has made me poor and I'm only getting poorer.

Another revelation: I now own a playlist full of songs containing fire symbolism and a 12-foot banner with Chad Michael Murray's face for about 5 feet of it. This can't be healthy.

I forgot the data transfer wire for my camera back in Hong Kong.

The LJ Friend o' the Day Meme

plasticchimera is AWESOME because he is physically beautiful and romps around in leather pants and is clever and calls me 'tea-sniffer' because of stories that have long been effaced by the sands of Internet-time, which move even faster than real time. That being said, we have known each other for at least seven real years. We should probably know each other better.

I like him also because he do what my dad does when he grows up, and I have always found the vanity of building monuments to oneself both amusing and genuinely sentimental -- but such are most things about plasticchimera, including his obsessions with shock-value, long hair, and industrial Goth artists including VNV Nation and Assemblage 23. When it's given, his affection feels luxurious and slightly adhesive, like a seal pup after the clubbing but before the processing.

He has a fun sense of humor: he can tell the difference between a backhanded compliment and a forehanded insult.

Finch -- "What It Is To Burn" ~6.8 MB, 192Kbps. The lyrics aren't anything special, but the juxtaposition of cellos and electric guitars is what gets me about this one.
    She burns.

    Today's on fire,
    The sky is bleeding above me and I am blistered
    I walk these lines of blasphemy every day, and still:
    Like a bad star, I'm falling faster down to her
    She's the only one who knows what it is to burn.

    I feel diseased
    Is there no sympathy from the sun?
    The sky's still fire
    But I am safe in here, from the world outside.

    So tell me
    What's the price to pay
    For glory?
2 lifetimes and still counting.

{SDFSDSSSSSSS} {19 Sep 2006|08:02pm}
{ mood | hungry }

  1. Before AWA:
    • Intro to Computer Science:
      1. 9/19-20 -- Written Assignment 2
      2. 9/21 (now 20) -- Programming Assignment 1
    • Psych Stats
      1. 9/21 -- Lab @ 9:00AM
    • General View of Eng Lit:
      1. For 9/21 -- read Wife of Bath's Tale
      2. 9/21 -- Go to class @ 12:00PM
    • Internet:
      1. Finish some scenes
      2. And graphic art.
  2. Fly to AWA at 5:00PM, Arrive at 10:16PM
  3. During AWA:
  4. Fly from AWA at 5:35PM, Arrive at 9:43PM
  5. After AWA:
    • Write story for Adv Fic
    • Pardoner's Tale and Margery Kemp for the week
    • Write way overdue paper by October
    • Get shit ready for adifferentdrum's visit
    • Drown a puppy
Please let me know if you belong somewhere on this list.
12 lifetimes and still counting.

{(trans: self-validation and sycophancy here)} {16 Sep 2006|01:59pm}
{ mood | groggy }

LJ Friend o' the Day Meme

  1. Reply to this post if you want me to tell you how cool you are!

  2. Watch my journal over the next few days for a post just about you and why you rock my socks. (Or, I can just go off on a tangent and throw out random things. More fun that way.)

  3. Post these instructions in your journal and give your friends a much needed dose of love and adoration!
11 lifetimes and still counting.

{wurds.} {12 Sep 2006|12:16am}
{ mood | tired }

So, MU* shit.

I've started on two new games. One based on Anita Blake, and the only good thing about me being there is that I play Dr. Gregory House as a wererat. The other is 'ported from the tabletop Champions system, Ravenswood Academy, with pre-created character concepts mostly open to elaboration. I'd like to invite everyone on my FLIST to look over RA, though it's got some downsides, the largest being dice-based combat (even if the staff do all the work). I play her. She is stuffy and rebellious. Like wearing your ghastly Christmas sweater inside out, except more elegant.

As for SWEET X HIGH, aside of his enormous Indian 'shrooms-and-Vision Quest plot upcoming, I have two ideas for John: first, that he'll start at Liquid as coat check and work his way up to bartender, because the idea of him advising lushes on their drunken woes for money appeals to my inner-sadist; second, that he'll get 'MADE YOU LOOK' tattooed along the underside of his jaw somewhere, because I totally would if I weren't sure I'd get bored of it sooner than the pain would be worth.

I drew two of my misunderstood ambisexual geniuses, and one of eaterofcrayons' too:

sketches: pyro and his briquet fairy, and two more faggots.Collapse )

I have been abusing the word 'proper' ever since I had a scene with philia where my boy was fussing on her character's makeup with his thumb. She wrote, '... while he helps her lip gloss find the proper lines.' Lovely, that propriety has everything and nothing to do with it. Pretty pretty pretty.

I have been reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and also Beowulf. Their concepts of reward, transaction, and equivalent worth are so like and unalike it'll make your brain explode. By the way, I don't just like Gawain because it has men kissing, though it's very graceful.

I saw The Covenant which had even less substance than X-Men 3, but I still maintain it was far, far less annoying. It was devoid of greater pretensions than what it intended to be about: flashy powers and homosexual overtones. Stupidly, I am thinking about writing A Fanfiction about it, in an ill-conceived effort to redeem the villain whose characterization was the worst out of them all. His heart is hungry, that's all; it hungers for manwich.

I also saw Shaun of the Dead which was superior in every way. Brutally dry British humor until you get damp from sentimentality. The story and characters remind me of Sokka (from Avatar) a lot, you know -- a very good and logical man who just happens to be in the wrong genre for goodness and logic. 'Prink' is my new favorite curse, if you've ever seen the DVD extras.
13 lifetimes and still counting.

{WWJD?} {06 Sep 2006|01:33am}
{ mood | tired }

Seen since the 30th of August:
  1. film: Akeelah and the Bee, which is a movie in which Morpheus trains a child to be the One, for the Scripps National Spelling Bee instead of the Matrix. This film explores every theme from words -- etymology, influence, sheer beauty -- to fighting with honor, what with pity and pride. Yes, it does start off with rather heavy-handed context, constructs -- stereotypes, almost -- of ethnic groups, social classes, zip codes, but only to deconstruct them, piece by piece. In the beginning, you have the Asian overachiever with his oppressive father, turning his nose up at the gumdrop of a girl from the mean streets. In the middle, Morpheus says, "There is only one person in the world who can push Dylan to spell his best, and that person isn't his father, or even the spelling bee people. It's you." By the end, the boy tells the girl, "My father's never won anything in his life." Like, fuck him. Fuck that. Cut out the lights, cut through the bullshit, do the words. *A*)/ 'Pulchritude.'

  2. film: Little Miss Sunshine, which is a portrait of the family that 'brudduh's eaterofcrayons and adifferentdrum would be, with a couple more generations. Dysfunctional, clever, funny, kinda broken, losing weight, sweet (TOTALLY SWEET), and occasionally gay.

      Olive: Grandpa, am I pretty?
      Grandpa: You are the most beautiful girl in the world.
      Olive: You're just saying that.
      Grandpa: No! I'm madly in love with you and it's not because of your brains or your personality.

  3. TV: House season 3, episode 1. Holy shit, that was fucking awesome. I don't even have words for it. It connects so well with the note season 2 left off on -- that House had defined himself so strictly by his obvious deficiencies, that now that he's lost that excuse, he's floundering to either find new ones or to fill his new outline -- the inevitable conflict. IT IS SO CLEVER. I fuckin' love how House's medical mysteries are an analogue for the characters' intellectual conflicts (and what conflicts; their intellects are all Monstrous) are an analogue for House's personal development is an analogue for the audience's interpretation of Gregory. Of course, we'd defined him by his obvious deficiencies, too. From what I can tell, our sympathies threaten our objectivity. House is always right, you see, and even if he isn't, Cameron is too self-righteous to be right instead. I'm terribly pleased that the producers seem to have taken a hint from the critics and the Mad TV spoofs, and reinvented the formulaic structure for the episodes (and thus, analogously, everything else). Ah, shit.

And on Friday, the Covenant. ;;;progress

I like living in the new house, with an Italian landlady whose mother offers free Italian food, last year's roommate and a new housemate too. It's a charming prospect, making new customs and codes and learning how to share space. It's only been two days, but both nights I've been the last to go to my bedroom, if not the last to go to bed, so I have walked through the house and switched off all the lights except, of course, for the nightlights. I wonder if this will become my thing. Certainly nothing big, not a thing you could italicize or Capitalize, but it feels wonderfully fancy and poetic and I like to think it'll be mine for the rest of the year.

I was kind of 'flu-y today but I'm better now.

I haven't been able to write to save my life, which is problematic, considering I'm in an advanced fiction writing class which my teacher opened today with, "I'm assuming all of you intend to be professional writers someday. I'm assuming that's the reason you enrolled at this level." Good teacher, though. And (as opposed to 'because') he's been published in Playboy before.

In-deed, I had my first day of classes and for once I'm actually kind of excited about venturing forward in evil school Hell, which is undoubtedly symptomatic of vanity and a mental breakdown. That was Dante's excuse. Lasted him a good many layers of Hell and a Canto for each, so.

APPARENTLY the first episode of One Tree Hill was actually somewhat clever, insofar as I learned these phrases: 'a parliament of owls,' 'an exaltation of larks,' and 'an unkindness of ravens' from Chad Michael Murray's character, who subsequently spends the season getting hazed to death by the high school basketball team, The Ravens. Sad to see how far I have the show has fallen. Anyway, in light of Akeelah and this, I am considering making a hack study of etymology, and memorizing bird terminology. 'A charm of finches.' 'A siege of herons.'

"What would Peter do?" they cried simultaneously.
                  -- J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan. And that is the real question.
1 lifetime and still counting.

{i'm flying tomorrow *A*)/} {30 Aug 2006|12:51am}
{ mood | tired }

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
2 lifetimes and still counting.

{girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams.} {29 Aug 2006|12:02am}
{ mood | oh, the cleverness of me! }

I rewatched the 2003 version of Peter Pan with peppermoni tonight and I'd totally forgotten how fuckin' amazing that film is. Sexuality, being a man, being a little girl, responsibility, dreams, sacrifice, all framed in rapier wit -- and actual rapiers. FUCK, Pan and Wendy-bird have more chemistry than child actors have any right to.

I am going to be Peter Pan when I grow up!

Also, John is Peter Pan. *A*)/ Big blond ego, heart could fit in a thimble. His better half is a girl, no doubt, but fairies are his poison.
3 lifetimes and still counting.

{aleph, submerged. *A*)/} {28 Aug 2006|12:13am}
{ mood | tired }

In a month she would not mourn, because in that season it had never seemed to her that they were married, she and the silent Methodist Edmund who wore a necktie and suspenders even to hunt wildflowers, and who remembered just where they grew from year to year, and who dipped his handkerchief in a puddle to wrap the stems, and who put his elbow to help her over the steep and stony places, with a wordless and impersonal courtesy she did not resent because she had never really wished to feel married to anyone. She sometimes imagined a rather dark man with crude stripes painted on his face and sunken belly, and a hide fastened around his loins, and bones dangling from his ears, and clay and claws and fangs and bones and feathers and sinews and hide ornamenting his arms and waist and throat and ankles, his whole body a boast that he was more alarming than all the death whose trophies he wore. Edmund was like that, a little. The rising of the spring stirred a serious, mystical excitement in him, and made him forgetful of her. He would pick up eggshells, a bird's wing, a jawbone, the ashy fragment of a wasp's nest. He would peer at each of them with the most absolute attention, and then put them in his pockets, where he kept his jack-knife and his loose change. He would peer at them as if he could read them, and pocket them as if he could own them. This is death in my hand, this is ruin in my breast pocket, where I keep my reading glasses. At such times, he was as forgetful of her as he was of his suspenders and his Methodism, but all the same it was then that she loved him best, as a soul all unaccompanied, like her own.

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping
still counting.

{graphics.} {27 Aug 2006|01:57am}
{ mood | tired }

Meggan Ashmore 1024 x 768

And Eliott's Jesus-hair, revisited.Collapse )

all my recent wallpapers look alike because i'm 'perfecting' a 'new style,' so don't start. my graphics have life cycles, like virii. phage, inject, and lyse.

Mostly, he orbits Meggan because he misses the sun. If she won't love you, no one will. *A*)/

Edit: Download MP3 of Train -- "Drops of Jupiter", 192KBPS ~6MB
still counting.

{ME.} {22 Aug 2006|12:14am}
{ mood | sleepy }


pirates of the caribbean ii: dead man's chest was fun. not as much fun or as cleverness as its predecessor, but rofl there was some really creative physical humor in there. sweet.

my baby sister gave me a pretty heavy-duty set of headphones that have this whole subwoofer thing going on. amps up the treble and bass in songs, which i live for. i think i might forget buying myself those speakers and just get myself deaf by the end of this year.

i let my baby sister cut my hair.

Photobucket - Video and Image HostingPhotobucket - Video and Image Hosting
+1Collapse )

this haircut left my sister puking apologies everywhere for some reason. i like it. and i feel it looks damn professional. while my mom mostly approves, she reckons i look way better with long hair, but she phrased it like this: 'you don't look like a little girl anymore! now you look like a teenager!' and seeing as i'm 21 next year i don't know how this change is for the worse.

going to ocean park to see jellyfish tomorrow. *A*)/ i am pretty fucking excited. it is always like gourmet for me, tasty things arranged too pretty to eat.

i would do kyle. re: kyle xy. oh of course jack's always a given, but -- matt dallas has eyes that put stock in that whole 'windows to the soul' thing. it's very fine.
11 lifetimes and still counting.

{thuck my dwama.} {19 Aug 2006|03:10am}
{ mood | exhausted }

today fucked my shit up. as in, my last work day at my internship and everyone passed with flying colors. then my boss's boyfriend took me out on his motorcycle sidecar and we dove backstreets and warm tunnels til my bones were ringing like windchimes and i reminisced about a whole bunch of old crushes including greenwings who wisely rejected me in favor of a video game because i saw a couple pass on the bridge above us all swallowed up in shadow and i thought 'it will never get this good again.' as in, my pretty blond coworker chose to forego my company on my last night in shanghai (DOUBLE BURN), and i had a bad feeling, but ventured out on my own. as in my key to the gate fell out of its ring and i thought, 'something rrrreally bad is going to happen tonight.' as in someone smashed a shotglass to pieces all over my right sandal and the one cut bled like crazy until it fucking vanished after i soaped it and i thought, 'something worse.'

as in a fifteen-year-old white boy maybe could have died tonight if i hadn't realized i was being a stupid fucking sociological statistic by minding my own business (uh, buying lemon tea) while he was lying in a puddle of puke unable to regain consciousness in a ring of melodramatic foreigners, but I got him his ambulance with the (reluctant) help of the club's security and convinced the driver to wait. and i thought 'the world is going to fuckin' end.' and then the fifteen-year-old boy's fifteen-year-old friend started whining like a little bitch about being guilty and feeling guilty and volunteered to take my virginity with his eleven-point-two inch dick if i ever got bored and the cute blond i'd been eyeing earlier turned out to be an assclown with only enough grace to duck into a taxi.

as in i had two magazine-quality anatomically aesthetic guys play-fight each other for a chance to dance/sleep/whatever with me, as well as one gorgeous bookish type look over, and a two-hundred pound beefcake -- and realized i didn't want any of them. because i don't just want anything melt-your-crotch hot, it's just not enough, even if i have nothing against casual sex but i'd SELL MY SOUL to fall in love just one time, my first time. i thought i'd gotten over that in freshman year but it was not so.

and then i was emo. because i thought, 'i'm growing up -- everyone looks at me and sees a young lady instead of a little girl, and if you've seen the breakfast club you know that it's inevitable: your heart dies. and i care. AND I WILL NEVER HAVE SEX' as in i nearly burst into tears on the dancefloor. as in i sulked on the sidelines until boys crept behind me asking each other -- in English -- if they thought i was a lesbian. as in i danced one rather angry dance, accidentally headbutted an incredibly beautiful 6'2" boy in his architecturally perfect chin, then stomped home and heard someone rattling along on the opposite side of the construction fence as i went and thought i'd get raped and killed on this quiet street but was too tired to care. and then i thought about my friends and family and got over myself. love, you know? and then i thought i was imagining whistling music on the wind, and decided to give in to my obvious insanity. whistled right back. but it turned out to be a middle-aged man on a bicycle.

i was okay. as in, i got home and found a roach dying on its back in my shower with no apparent cause. coincidentally, the same day that i finally dug up my old, shittier camera and took photographs of myself in the bathroom. coincidentally, the same day i no longer needed to preserve my last english workbooks from explosive bug guts. as in, i was so fucking creeped out by the karmic irony, that while I leaned in to aim at the roach, i tickled my own foot with the shower mat fringe, mistook it for insect vengeance and screamed like a little girl for the first time since i was a very little girl.

my heart's not dead it's just as dumb as a rock. not made out of it. anyway, i have resolved to:
  1. take dance lessons. im not that pretty, but apparently i can move. something to cultivate;
  2. consider psychotherapy for my comatose clusterfuck of a sex drive, which i'm beginning to think may have had something to do with having been molested on public transportation when i was younger;
  3. clean up my complexion at all costs;
  4. write a pose for adifferentdrum and philia; and
  5. get really good at sex before I die. count on it.

i think there is a god and he is an angry young man, not unlike the good book says.

tomorrow i will go see the suzhou creek 'artist colony' that my dad has been insisting i see ever since i touched down in shanghai. 'this is the real modern shanghai. do not miss this opportunity. broaden your horizons.'

the cat healed on her own. i've been feeding her but i can't catch her.
14 lifetimes and still counting.

{i had deep thoughts yesterday.} {16 Aug 2006|10:27am}
{ mood | okay }

something about teaching and learning. see, on saturday, i go back to hong kong, then on the 30th i'm back to the states. i hung out alone in the park where me and my coworker had rotted on the grass at 11PM saturday night, with a lot of swingers and river tam quotes floating around in my head. an unlikely juxtaposition, I know. 'what's past is prologue.' for me, because The Future is the real story, and my personal protagonist is gonna have to be stronger and smarter, colder and kinder, and better than ever; the bigger dog in the fight and the bigger person in the relationship. 'don't be scared.' for my students, because i know how hard and embarrassing and frightening it is to study a foreign language. 'it's just an object in space; doesn't mean what you think.' i spent about twenty minutes thinking the star in the sky had to be an airplane.

1024x768 of jesushair.jpg
, though the original is 1280x800 and a lot easier to read.

I'm not altogether happy with it, but it honestly used to be a lot worse. I got tired of layers, and trying to figure out how to make the text work with the image work with the text and who the Hell gives a damn about theme unification when they look at my graphics anyway? Previously, it featured 'I AM A BADASS' in 200 point font, and then 'JESUS,' and then a page-long dissertation on my lack of inspiration. X)

eaterofcrayons made Ellie the steam mutant for me. I like them boys.

Poe -- "Wild", 192KBPS ~10MB.

    I go wild cause you break me open,
    Wild cause you left me here,
    I go wild.

    Wild because the chips are down,
    Wild because there isn't anybody else around.
    Wild when the waves start to break,
    And God knows they're breaking in me now.

    Long-ass song.Collapse )

The Counting Crows (feat. Sheryl Crow) -- "American Girls", 192KBPS ~6MB. <-- this song reminds me of me, oddly enough. It's old, but one of my strongest associations with it is greenwings, who burned me a bunch of Counting Crows for the first time we met. Boston, 2003 I think. World's happiest tune, some of the world's saddest sentiment.

    She comes out on Fridays every time,
    Stands out in a linem
    I could have been anyone she'd seen.
    She waits another week to fall apart,
    She couldn't make another day.
    I wish it was anyone but me.
    'I could have been anyone, you see?'Collapse )
still counting.

{well u suck more} {12 Aug 2006|05:07pm}
{ mood | tired }

==/ more graphics, ho


and cerebra/pyro revisitedCollapse )

al and el are © eaterofcrayons. and yes they are supposed to look very similar. they have nice pbs, but you can probably tell, not too much high-def photography of them around. Which makes me cra-zy, but pushes me to try other styles I guess.

You can download the Used (heh) song here, "Blue and Yellow," 320kbps. Emo metal, but more rock than metal, and it does fucking rock.

And I don't know if I made the Shakti/John graphic worse or better, but I hope the latter. I'm probably going to be clicking away on my deathbed, working on that one still.

Edit: Aleph's tattoos were updated in graphic #1 ==/

I got accosted by a small modelling agency on my way home from work yesterday, which was amusing bc I was zitty and sweaty and bloated and flat-haired and feeling utterly indifferent to appearance. I'm leaving in a week, but I'll probably call them up to see what's up.

I really need to update my LJ icons.
5 lifetimes and still counting.

{another wallpaper.} {08 Aug 2006|09:42am}
{ mood | chipper }

1024 x 768
thx for everything closer2myself

Wallpapers for my screen resolution (1280 x 800) are rare to come by, so I decided to make myself one that would 1) encourage me to clean up my desktop icons and 2) not make my eyeballs bleed. In the end, I bled my eyeballs making the damn thing, but I cleaned up my icons afterward. To discourage myself from touching it anymore, I'm posting it for other people to get their germs on.

My use of the poem is supposed to be cleverly ironic, as all the words about change and growth are applicable only to Shakti. There's also pretentious symbolism of two different religions, and John's shirt does in fact say 'WWJD.' Ha ha ha
3 lifetimes and still counting.

{some kinda karma?} {04 Aug 2006|10:49pm}
{ mood | amused }

The 'swimming pool' wasn't a swimming pool, it was a waterpark. With shit for safety regulations, overpriced food, too many people, a fake beach, giant floats for rent.

There was also a long 'river' which went through mist and waterfalls and rapids that were so unexpectedly violent that I slammed my fat head against the wall once, which honestly didn't hurt, though I then named my float 'The Black Pearl,' which would not have occurred to me beforehand. At one point, there were so many people in floats that we were bottlenecked like cheerios in the rapids, so a lifeguard had to wade in and roll us out one by one. I was sort of pinched between two conflicting waves, so he looked at me like 6_6 and I looked at him like 9_9 and he looked at me like :D and I looked at him like D: and he spun me directly into the path of the heaviest wave in the section and I got smashed twice before my float surrendered its faggot inertia and moved along.

Toward the end of the evening, there was also a long, long tube-shaped waterslide that twisted 'round and 'round in utterly blind blackness before it dumped you in a pool. I was trying to maintain a girly scream throughout the tube slide like everyone else, but by the time I popped out I was all woooooooooooo!-ing my head off. The other people at the destination pool were nudging each other and looking on dubiously by the time I joined them. I got some compliments on the bikini thing, hated every minute I spent in the bikini, but the day at the waterpark was Fantastic.

My final upper-intermediate class.

And this may well be the last photo I ever take with this digital camera, because shortly after I took it, I had to forcefully terminate my subject, who apparently didn't like being bludgeoned with a rolled-up English workbook or scalded with a showerhead, and managed to Manipulate me into knocking my camera into the sink where my swimsuit was soaking. I'm trying to dry the camera out with my laptop fan, but currently it won't even switch on. Wasn't that a giant-ass roach, though? 2 inches in length, at least, and the first direct hit ripped one of her wings off but the rest of her was still twisting. A worthy opponent, if not quite worth the casualty of crossfire. I bet she's shot out at least fifty babies in this house. Man, I'm glad Yaoi-sama wasn't with me, she would have had a nervous breakdown.

Ah, shit.
11 lifetimes and still counting.

{hhhh.} {04 Aug 2006|01:11pm}
{ mood | calm }

Today I have to wear A Bikini for the first time in my life for a swimming pool activity that my workplace scheduled to 'build team spirit.' It's the craziest thing to me, but apparently very commonplace in China. Anyway I am never uncomfortable in skimpy or girly clothes so I don't know why this whole bikini thing makes me want to hit someone's face. Might be that I don't really like swimming?

=A=)/ I wouldn't be wearing a bikini but I don't have my own swimsuit and my workmate gave me one, practically brand new, that she outgrew a year ago. Maybe I'm just pissed about the color? Striped orange, pink, and blue on white, and it's a halter cut with a Skirt Thing. And it's stuffed, which isn't embarrassing so much as insulting, and my ego's too big to but laugh at that insult, and I really don't need to laugh at my boobs right now.

I wish I was a man. I haven't wished I was a man in years, but I'm determined to do this thing, in no small part because I don't particularly want to go.

I taught my last formal English class today, but this is a photo of my other, smaller class, which I finished teaching last week. Bribed them with candy and cookies so they'd let me photograph them. Shit, they were lovely people.

Leftmost is a quiet girl who's the good friend of the one beside her, the 'dour' girl I'd written about earlier. Then there's Korean Guy, who's quiet and lonely living in a city full of Chinese but he's got a nice smile, and then behind Korean Guy there's my assistant, the Rebellious Artist who I'll see in Hong Kong when I get back on the 19th of August. The white kid is a highschooler from New York, he joined my last 3 classes to fulfill some community service requirement for graduation. Then there's Francis, whom everyone calls Turtle, and he's the lazy 'nasty boy' jerk type who says he wants a white-collar desk job and a hen for a housewife when he grows up. Next to him, with the emo glasses, is the Michael Jackson fan who taught me how to moonwalk. In the orange shirt is the 'monitor,' the oldest student with the best English, who claims he plans on becoming a lawyer though he's studying music theory and piano. Then there's a dork hiding from my camera, but he's funny and sweet and has the best 'buh?' clueless expression I've ever seen on a boy. The thin girl in front of him is Turtle's arch-nemesis, all sass and high spirits, and I think they are 'in like.' The girl in front of her is her classmate, who told me were to buy fake sushi for lunch.


The wrinkly old head teacher asked me out to dinner 'some time,' but I managed to miss all 4 of his calls. That hot blond teacher asked me if I was going out on Thursday night and I missed his text message. I hate having a cellphone and I wish I was emotionally available.

On September 8th, Sony Pictures is releasing a dark coming-of-age-with-superpowers film called The Covenant, which has pretty faces and pretty SE and probably not much else. However, I found the trailer refreshing in a 'not again' sense, because the teenagers abuse their powers in small stupid ways -- and that was in short supply in the X-Men films and Sky High. In an article on the comic offshoot, the writers characterized the 'coming-of-age' genre as stories in which the main characters are both the heroes and the villains. Apt.

Dying to see Pirates of the Caribbean 2, and to rewatch Superman Returns, but I bought a fake box set of the 4400 so I might stave off those cravings for awhile. Also, I have a giant hole in my shoulder where I just scratched a zit off and it's bleeeeeding everywhere ew bye
5 lifetimes and still counting.

{brandon boyd, slightly improved.} {30 Jul 2006|09:38am}
{ mood | tired }

feat. sheet music from 'the girl from ipanema'
still counting.


Sex: Female ar
Species: oh
Age: 19 ohgodold
Occupation: Student, (occasional) web-designer, (fake) artist&photographer, (and) writer, roleplay-gamer (MU*)
Marital status: LJ-married to Fall Of Rain and immensely fond of many but single, really.
Currently reading: Short stories, Naruto manga, and good fanfiction.
Recommended reading: Larissa Lai's Salt Fish Girl; Luke Sutherland's Venus as a Boy; Mian Mian's Candy.
Currently watching: Lost, Samurai Champloo. Anticipating Pirates of the Caribbean 2.


Graphics and code for Nomad Chronicle.COM (completed 2004)
Hire me at Good Crap.
Take some LJ memories.

{ez click}

Teh Indy

Illegal Internets:
Fandom Sounds
Fan Mix
Track 69

Guede Mazaka
Knightgasm (lol)
Fire Sign Writer
Ars Nepenthe
Raygunn Revival

Partners in Crime:
Fall of Rain
Ar Lain ar
Creepy Thin Man
Peace of the Gods
Milady in Red
He never writes

Little Lives:
Damn Ninja MUX
The Ineffable Game
Final Fantasy MUX

BlackGate MUX


Credits: Image from Voodoo in Texas, brushes from and Vered, light texture from Teh Indy. Lyrics from the Postal Service's "The Dream of Evan and Chan". The font used is Verdana, nice and boring ar.
Theme: The theme of this layout is Sayid from the TV show Lost. I have a tendency to minimize his presence in this particular photograph, but I've always felt like Sayid is all about Nadia, so anything of her is a wound of his. Let's face it, the song is all about pain anyway.
Mostly I just wanted to see if I could use the S1 custom-made layout option effectively. I give it a 4/5 I guess. What the FUCK is with all the green and pink I will never know.

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