The fidgeting can begin; application posted in goldenapplesmod, which is mercifully enough screened. To be honest, I think the chances that I will get in are very slim, because it is such a drastically different take on a character, while still managing to hit all the canon bits. So, we'll see! If I don't get accepted, I can always go pimp him out in one of those communities, like find_a_player. Surely someone's bound to bite? There, I am prepared for failure, I'm good to go.
Really. I am.
So okay, maybe my denial is amusing me after all.
I want to glomp the living shit out of Nathan Fillion, more so since I started to watch his Twitter. I've always had a weakness for a man with a witty tongue and a big nose. And it's always a bonus if they have some meat on their bones.
I should make plans to go to Antwerp soon. I've only been there a little less than a handful of times, and always with classes, so it will be interesting to wander through the town on my own time, and to watch what I want, instead of running after my Dutch professor who insists 'you should watch this', said minutes before the sucker sprains his ankle and we're almost too late to catch our train back to Ghent. If only I could recall his name; I remember he wrote a book.
And fuck it, really. I want new books, my back isn't cooperating, but I'm going anyway, even if it means I have to walk doubled over in pain. Screw you, body.
I've made up my mind about something. I'm done with posting the, oh hundreds, of negative journal entries that I've bothered you with over the past few years. I want to be able to read this journal in years to come and not to think of what a whiny, spineless person I used to be. Instead, I'll be trying (with emphasis on trying) to pen down things that are ... I'm not sure how to put it. Positive, I suppose and at the same an accurate picture of my life at this given moment in time. Neutral. There. Just neutral. Most of the time. If it isn't either neutral or positive, I won't be posting.
But SMOKE came out of the microwave when I was to trying to nuke my mini pizza. The smoke oddly enough smelled like plastic, but it wasn't present in the device itself. So, I'll just take that as 'you need to buy a new one'. Thank God. Give me a manual microwave over this oversized piece of crap any day now.
Going to the second hand book market was uh, rather interesting, with the condition my back was in. Snapped up a few books, including a Burroughs one, and I was never the more glad to be home, sitting down. Cue the leaning tower of Pisa reference that I whip out now and then. God, I think people felt sorry for me over there. But I wanted to get my mom out of the house, and I succeeded. If I can, I'm going to be reading Baudelaire in bed tonight. (Must remember to screw in a new light bulb in my table lamp.)
I'm such a sucker for Baudelaire. And Rimbaud. I always have to snap up a copy of one of their books, even if I already have several different volumes at home. I collect different editions. Is that a good excuse? Okay, so I bought it in French. Ahem. And three books of James Joyce in English. Hush. The price was too good and my mom was paying.
My mom is officially in love with Angela's Ashes, and I couldn't be more pleased. I wonder if I could get her to read Burroughs or Kerouac without her being weirded out or dubbing me the Antichrist. Oh yes mom, I still haven't forgotten that little dispute we had about me playing Cradle of Filth. That was the first time I was called a Satanist and to be honest? It still cracks me up. You know? Scratch Burroughs. I should start with feeding her Terry Brooks' Landover series.
But I've been smiling a lot more these days. I'm feeling better. It looks like I've lost some weight. Not much, but it still counts. And I'm going to watch some TV now, while I wait for my stuff to finish downloading.
Everything is good. And I'm listening to Chet Baker. I have a trumpet fetish, okay?