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PSatori
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Name: Azure
Birthday: 2/14/1987
Gender: Female
Interests: Sleeping, pretty words, hanging out with The Friends, music, procrastinating, selling Illegal Substances to Minors (Starburst, lollipops, etc), COFFEE (my addiction to which can be most happily accredited to The Impervious Nikolaus), kinky sex
Expertise: English, music...oh, why bother? I'm good at everything
Occupation: Government
Industry: Other
Message: message me
AIM:  PSatori
Jabber: wocky
Member Since:
10/4/2004
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| Biu, biu...turns out they have wireless internet in the breakroom!
Apparently, it's only for this month because the DM is going to be here off and on until we pass our 'inspection' or whatever the hell it's called, but I'M not complaining. I can watch HYD AT WORK ON MY BREAKS!
Oh, fecking happy day!
^_^
No, you're NOT supposed to know what that is. Even if I told you, you wouldn't know.
I need to find someone to talk with about this shit. It's good to have individual interests and passions, you know? But it's really comforting to have someone there with whom you can share your thoughts, too. Who can relate to you and squee like a juvenile delinquent when M-sama appears. *sad*
OH, WELL!
Meanwhile.
What have you all been doing with yourselves?
I've mostly been getting into trouble with the law, myself, and then working like a madwomyn to get myself OUT of trouble thereafter.
Also, I'm not seeing Erick anymore, which is good for my self-esteem.
Also, I've been working on creating a perfect chip.
And eating hot pockets.
MMMMMMMMM, TRANS-FAT!
Screw you, R.Shah.
It's delicious.
Awwwwww...Britt bought me Snickers.
...and he's demanding my first-born child as recompense?!
Hmmmm....
No more crack, then. | | |
| Words are my one true, all-encompassing, world-shattering passion.
Any friend of language is a friend of mine.
It's nearing six a.m. (but the sun's ignoring daylight savings and dusk is late in breaking) and I'm perspiring and bedraggled and (probably) incoherent because I haven't slept in a day and a half, and here I am picking up garbage with two people I don't know very well at all, and one person I know very well, indeed, but wish often to have never met.
And dawn is dragging its feet and the whole world is purple-grey and I'm caught staring, unguarded, by the Boy Who Lives to Make Me Violent, and I'm flinching back because without warning (or reason or sense), there's a tannish digit (dyed a greying-duskish hue) swirling curly cues in a decamping lock of tangled hair.
And it's hot (because of the exertion and the obvious lack of central air), and it's cold (because the sun hasn't yet appeared; it's only early morning), and it's warm (because there's a foreign finger taking liberties with a frayed lock of my hair), and I don't understand at all when the wind whispers, and its (his) voice is like rustling papers -- "Pretty..."
And I don't understand at all.
Don't EVER, EVER watch "The Family Stone." Apart from the random breast cancer affliction, totally unmitigated and utterly unbelievable agression via an entire family (with an impossible dynamic, to boot) toward the main character, there's also the sporadic scary shots of a lead role after a mugging (which never actually took place), random and strange relationship developments (wherein there is no actual DEVELOPMENT), and more than one mention of a "popped cherry."
The space aliens didn't help the movie's credibility any, either, I suppose.
*plink* | | |
| And then mugen punched him in the head and I was like HOLY MOTHER OF GIGGLING PROSTATES that's funny and then Rodriguez the Stag Beetle was engaged in what-was-likely-to-be-the-Fight-Of-The-Century and Fuu ran into a wall and Jin was cross-dressing and then WHAM!
Reality?
Pu-leeeaze.
I may or may not have recently completed Kingdom Hearts II. And I may or may not have drooled on the screen when I finally found Riku (damnable platinum-haired bishou-BEOTCH).
What smack you speakin', Willis?
"For the love of velociraptors, porky, pick up the phone. I'm not going to bite you; I've been fed today. Pick it uuuuuuuup. I know you're there --I can smell you and you desperately need a bath. And I don't care if your feet hurt; that's just a bullshit excuse and you know it because I'm the strongest man on the planet and I can carry you wherever we're going --which is probably Don Pablo's, you insatiable Mexican wastebasket. *gurgle* Did you hear that? I'm drowning in a pool of my own blood. Pick up the phone or I'll die and then not only will you feel AWFUL but I'll come haunt you while you're interviewing for an important job an--"
*line dies*
"Your machine is defective, Izzy. It cut ME off. Although I'm hardly surprised; I can understand that my awesomeness might be too much for it to handle in large doses. Dosages? Doses? Whatever. Awww --isn't that sweet? You're rubbing off on me, porky. Now pick up your phone or I'm going to come to your shack and knock down your door and beat you senseless before I take you out to dinner so that you can stuff your face full of deliciously fatty foods."
*later*
"I'm not going to be nice to you to get you to come have food with me, you pathetic whore. But I miss you."
And then the dam broke.
No. I do not have your hangers. | | |
| -drown out the machinery in my head
bring your peace of mind to my bed
without sleep there are no dreams
without dreams, we fall apart at the seams-
I've been working a lot.
I am useful.
I am productive.
I am...screwing up a lot, but that's to be expected. (Cause it's an entirely different job from any that I've had before, NOT because I'm a resounding failure at anything that requires minimal competence, you priggish bastards.)
Look up "faineant" --I hugged this word for three hours straight because it's pretty. ^_^
And if you have the time, check out "jolie-laide." Another round of French-ism (although this is more a concept than just a word), because I'm feeling like omelette du fromage!
+Why be beautiful when you can be interesting? *chuckle*+
YOUR WATERMELON IS ON FIRE!
(could this something in his chest be a remainder of exaltation? It is steadier than joy, warming, and he closes his eyes against the waning paper-coloured light)
Good writing brings me incomparable joy.
But good writing that includes sporadic (forever incomplete) pointy ovals, black horizon lines --hyphens, dearies--and well-placed, artful repetition brings me perilously close to euphoria.
--and watch and watch and don't look away--
CRACK!
..memories are films about ghosts.. | | |
| I do enjoy a good love story.
Yes-indeedy-do.
**~**  **~**
...redux, anyone?
I think so!
(I'M GONNA WATCH IT AGAAAAAAAAIN!
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!)
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