silveryscrape (silveryscrape) wrote,
silveryscrape
silveryscrape

FRIENDSLIST. Omg.

So I said to myself, self, one does not merely tankcat into livejournal, one must have something to offer. And I was thinking I would have something, and then New Year's went by and I was sad, but then frausorge had the great kindness to laugh several times at over my offering, so my determination was renewed, and I wrote and wrote and wrote, but then I got stuck again. As one does.

So yes, I do have a story in the works, and it is in fact trickC, kind of dirty, and I did just work my way past the tough part, so we might actually be go for the moon from here on in. Maybe done in a few days? Weeks? Still, I find myself in the unusual place of really omg missing all of you fuckers and wondering what's going on, and also got nudged! Omg! And I don't want to wait anymore, I'm ready to tankcat now!

That is to say, um. Hi.

Here's a little bit of what I'm working on, an outtake, as it were - in fact, the very bit that was giving me trouble, until I recalled Lesa telling me to kill my darlings and knew that it had to die. Snif. But I still love it.

But before that... for the statistics part of this update, I will tell you that I'm doing rather surprisingly well, working at Stanford, planning on moving to Sunnyvale soon (SF is fucking so expensive, god), and soon my neighbors will be Google, Intel, McAfee, and about 1,000 really awesome looking Indian restaurants. I'm so easy. The K's are doing great, kind of spring-fevery (Munch has taken to pulling the books off the shelves jflkdjlfakjlfk), but soon they will have a patio to crouch on again and more space to careen around in, and that's pretty much all they really want. I've found myself during my extended lj break really expanding the focus of my obsessions - if that makes any sense? - and getting into a lot of new stuff, while still going through spells of heart-clutching love over JC & Chris & John & Rodney... wow, there's a 4some. I'm kind of afraid now. *muses* But anyway, here's a short list of current obsessions (sorry, no links, google is your friend, I am lazy):

+ Gackt
+ Tokyo Hotel
+ shortwave radio Numbers Stations
+ the Archimedes Palimpsest
+ Stanford Linear Accelerator!!!1! *swoon*
+ the Parker-Hulme murders
+ natural VLF music, recordings of the ionosphere
+ oilfield roughnecking (I don't know either)
+ Kombucha mushrooms
+ stories about phone calls from the dead
+ McMurdo Station/Raytheon/PORN SPILL
+ the Uncanny Valley
+ CAKE IS COMING TO OAKLAND IN FEBRUARY. CAKE.

...yeah, there was more than that, I just -- what?

Anyway, here's that one thing:

Unfortunately, Joey wasn't drunk enough yet for his spidey sense to go offline. "Hi, JC," he said brightly, appearing out of nowhere, and pulled him into a friendly-seeming choke hold, right there in the middle of the club. "Would you excuse us? Me and my boy have to talk." The winker rolled her eyes and flipped her hair and disappeared into the crowd, and that -- that was just, that was just --

"Hi, Joey," JC said grimly. "If you could hang on a second, I have to go kill Chris right now."

"Oh, no no no no," Joey said gently, waving at someone with his non-choking hand, "not here. Let's go, C. Time to go!"

"But, Joey --"

"I will drag you, JC, and make it look like fun."

"Fucking whatever," JC said. Joey patted him on the head, which was actually nice in a fucked up way: loving, really painful noogies, but Joey didn't let go for a few more minutes, and anyway, as far as JC could tell from his vantage point in Joey's left armpit, Chris was no longer at the bar.
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