(no subject)

There's a new issue up at the FB.  I should be formal and announce it, but I can't remember where the graphic is for it, and I'd have to up date it and all that, so instead I'll just say,

There's a new issue up at the FB. 

There's a stella story, and a sharon story, and one from someone I don't recognize, and a barth story, "We stand on the verge of getting it on," which when Jer told me the name I said I'd buy it just for the name.  But I'm easy like that.  I have stories called "Andy, Only on the Inside." and "Gods in our Underwear"  What amuses me most about Barth's story is completely unrelated to Barth's story.  it has to do with the fact that I just got all superexcited over a non-fiction book I'm waiting for and really really want to read,  So you wanna be a rock & roll star : how I machine-gunned a roomful of record executives and other true tales from a drummer's life  by Jacob Slichter, the drummer for Semisonic.  And the sample that my library has available is soooo good, and I'm tired, and thus the two stories are swirling nicely. 

I've been thinking a lot of age lately--how we measure it, and how it's like IQ in a way, because the way we measure it isn't actually the important way to measure it, and how many many ways I'm not 27--my cultural history by and large starts at about 12, so far as dating and such is involved, I might as well be  15, practically--things like that.  And I was thinking about age the other way today as well, thinking about ways in which I'm older than 27, and people who make me older yet, and if given the choice I'd rather be younger or older than my physical age.  And I'm pretty solidly on the younger side, so it would be silly of me to even pay attention to an age difference that would make no difference if he was older than me, just because I'm freaked out. 

And I think so much of my freaking out lately is a coming to terms with the idea that people look at me and think I'm attractive. Everyone always says, Oh, when you're happy, everyone can tell and it makes you more attractive.  I don't know if I totally believe that, but I can burst into tears at the drop of a hat, and could really do with a hug most days, and I was just about sobbing in the elevator the other day, and yet, i think I'm so much happier here than I was in PA.  And boys flirt with me, even the stray office boys, and (possibly, we're still not sure) someone several years younger than me.  And I still don't have a clue what they see in me that they like, but I'm happy that they see something at least. 

(no subject)

And to all the writers and readers out there, I'd like to see some serious introspection about beginings and hooks and such--how you do it/how you like it, how you want to do it, examples that you like, and things like that.  I gave Stranger Things Happen to one of the boys here (the gay one, if you must know, and I know you must), and he was reading Water off a Black Dog's Back last night and is hooked.  Which is just how I want it.  And if nothing else, slushing has taught me how much crap you can trim out of a begining before the editor can even tell.  I am ruthless, even on my own pieces.  So let's hear some discussion.    I'd prefer it here, but if it fits better in your own journal, i'll just be terribly, terribly disappointed. 

"Anything but the blatant proof/Was your lips touching mine in a photobooth"

I can't remember what we were talking about at the kitchen table this morning, but I turned to B and asked him something at one point, and he said, "Oh, yeah, completely." and then went back to his paper saying, "by which I mean not at all."

I am wearing cassini saturn earings today. Well, okay, not really. but they're little gold balls with rings around them, and I have always thought of them as my ringed planet earrings, because I'm an SF writer and that's the way I think. And since I'd realised they were cassini saturn earings, when I was looking for a lipstick to put on (since I realised I could kill a couple of minutes by primping in the morning and not get here crazy early), I picked Mars so I could be all outer-spaced themed. This also serves double duty, as I'm wearing jeans today, and while they'll not fuss, since they're wearing nasty things, it's technically against my temp agency's policy, so I'll just distract them by batting my (mascaraed) eyelashes.

Oh, and speaking of my temp agency, I had nasty dreams where they weren't going to work here anymore, and I couldn't leave here, but I wouldn't get paid anymore, and I didn't know what to do, and it was very traumatic.

And I am so spoiled. Due to the 4th, and the fact that the house is picnicing that night, there's going to be no dinner made until Monday night, and I was like, "oh my god, I'll have to fend for myself for a whole three days!!!!" Luckily, I'm mostly over that. After all, there will be a picnic, right? So that's just tonight and tomorrow. but oh, the badness of the walk last night--I now know there's a creperie right behind our hill. Not quite as close as in DC, I think, and probably not as cheap or as good. but now I want to find out.

what I would buy my brother if I was a good sister

he has a fisherman t-shirt from my mom's prison. "Catch > Rehabilitate > Release"