Jul. 26th, 2009

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Charles de Lint's Newford; Christy Ridell )

That will require mucho editing when I'm less dead. Meanwhile, sponsors are lovely.
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Oya
Oya’s ofrenda is a Nigerian potion of love and war, sweetened by darkest plum. Oya winiwini!

In imp: Nutty?

On me: Kind of like I imagine a jungle smelling, but alas, no plum.

Verdict: Nice, though I pine for the plum.


Tanin'iver
[Don't know]

In imp: Smoky and sharp.

On me: I suspect there's some notes in there I might be allergic to, so I forebear.


Hermia
Pink pepper, golden amber, honeysuckle, and passion flower.

In imp: Peppery and sweet

On me: Same. I quite like the zing.

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Sponsor a girl who's starting to hit the first waves of sleep dep?
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We've long since passed the midnight mark and obviously I'm still awake. This is the good news. The less-wonderful news is that I'm getting a bit fictioned-out, though I may well get a third wind or something like that. More worryingly, I think I'm also getting BPALed out. You all really don't want to know what my hands smell like right now. That said, I think I'm still good for list/nonfiction prompts, and the longer I stay up the more my filters will go away, which can lead to amusing things being said. Keep on truckin', said the motorcyclist.

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Sponsor me, please.
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Prompt from [livejournal.com profile] slipjig:

"Weapons the Geeks Will Be Using During the Upcoming Revolution"

1. Fencing foils, or course. One can never swash too much buckle. The rank and file will carry transparent plastic forks and fence with those. Apparently, [livejournal.com profile] zarhooie and I are the rank and file.

2. Pie. Probably not of the Sweeney Todd variety.

3. Blogs. Despite answer number one, the pen keyboard is, indeed, mightier than the sword. Also an excellent way to seed misinformation through the enemy's intelligence operations.

4. Unobtrusive-looking black notebooks. What they actually do is classified.

5. Cats. Stab, suffocate and reduce your opponent's cognitive ability to "You're a kitty" in one easy step.

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Another [livejournal.com profile] slipjig prompt:

"Writers Who Need to Stop Writing, Like, NOW"

1. Stephanie Meyer. Aside from the stilted writing, the values she espouses are toxic.

2. Piers Anthony. I stopped when I was fourteen, and by all accounts he's been getting worse since.

3. The author of that one Death Note fic [livejournal.com profile] nevacaruso posted about.

4. Cassie Clare. Plagiarism is not on, whatever else you may think about her writing.

5. Go to Mrs. Giggles's website. Look at the romance novel reviews she's rated 10/100 or less. The authors of those. Yeah. Then read her reviews, cause they're hilarious and she should totally keep writing.

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Sponsor me, please.
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Honorary mentions for that last prompt:

Authors who need to shut the fuck up, though they have produced good books in the past. The need to shut them up stems from them being assholes in a public forum rather than the quality of their writing. For that reason, they don't technically belong on the original list. Orson Scott Card and Harlan Ellison are quintescential examples of this type.

Authors of juvenalia I've never read, or read so long ago it might as well count as not read. And by juvenalia I mean both the writing and age of the authors. Think Christopher Paulini or Amelia Atwater Rhodes.

Kage Baker gets an honorary mention all of her own because she wrote the only book I read last year that I would have actually thrown at the wall had it not been a library copy. On the other hand, some of her other books are great, so I don't know. Does that even out the authorial karma?

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I just took a brief walk outside. It's lovely out and the fresh air felt great on my face. On the minus side, the dark and the quiet reinforced the sleepiness.

Unrelatedly, my glasses are doing their best to slide down and off my nose. They keep doing it, I'mma fuckin tape em to my face.
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For the last few hours, we've had a fly buzzing around the living room. Round and round, round and round, and with every hour and round, my desire for its death grows. Maybe Tor-Tor will eat it, though she's a dainty enough cat that I doubt it. ...And now Jack's awake. Maybe he'll do my bloody work for me.

...[livejournal.com profile] shadesong says that actually Victoria might well eat the fly if she could catch it. Fly after it, my kitty troops, flyyyyy!
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[livejournal.com profile] feste_sylvain, our morning support staffer, has arrived, with a carton of eggs. Yay! [livejournal.com profile] shadesong is happy to see him as well, though sad at him for not bringing maple bacon ice-cream.

...The people in the living room are talking about setting stuff on fire. I'll... be over here.
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I have an amazing girlfriend! With [livejournal.com profile] wired_lizard's $50 donation, I'm now up to $135. <3333
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You know, last time I pulled twenty-four hours in a row, it was for Iron GM. [livejournal.com profile] wired_lizard and I wrote a LARP (Lifeline) and it was awesome! I got about two-three hours of sleep that night, since we had to have a finished product at the end, but there were no regular output requirements. Those two-three hours look mighty fine right now. But! I had no cats then, and cats make up for a multitude of exhaustions.
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Breakfast is coming! Nom! I really, truly, honestly want this post to have more content, but. Brain dying a soft, sleepy death. Breakfast good.
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Once again, I sing the praises of the chef - [livejournal.com profile] feste_sylvain this time. An omelet with cheese and herbs is just what the doctor ordered, provided that doctor was a gourmet. Alas, [livejournal.com profile] shadesong has fled upstairs, away from the smell of eggs. We miss her and hope we get her back soon (as soon as the cooking smells clear, I'd guess.)
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This is the part of Blogathon where I have to be careful not to assume we're nearly done. It's light out now, and that's deceptive. In reality, there are two and a half hours left before we're done, before I call my dad to pick up [livejournal.com profile] nevacaruso and me so we can crash at my house for, um, as long as it takes for us to crash properly.

There's now a constant jingling of cat collars, with all three up and about. It's kind of uplifting. All three cats have also made my backpack their kitty bed. Or possibly their bitch. I dare not speculate. Either way, there's four sets of foofy shed hair covering it now (four including my own cat, who's moofed it already before I left home.)
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The first phantom tail swish has been sighted to the right of my chair. Ladies and gentlemen, we have achieved hallucinating cats.

To provide a bit of context, seeing cats that weren't actually there out of the corner of my eye was my chosen pastime the morning hours of my first Blogathon. If I had to hallucinate something, I'm glad it's cats.

This post may well make no sense.
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Ten Books I Want to Read
1. Five Hundred Years After, by Steven Brust
2. The Will of the Empress, by Tamora Pierce
3. Trader, by Charles de Lint
4. The Ghost in Love, by Jonathan Carroll
5. The Mermaid's Madness, by Jim C. Hines
6. A Cook's Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisines, by Anthony Bourdain
7. Fire Study, by Maria V. Snyder
8. Equal Rites, by Terry Pratchett
9. Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story, by Christopher Moore
10. Bright of the Sky, by Kay Kenyon
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Getting really bright now, and time's ticking by, though not quickly enough for my tastes.

I'm seriously starting to resemble a stoner right now, complete with reaction delays and an odd, removed feeling.

There's a vase of lavender on the table. Also? Cats shed. Because it's summer.
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I can see into the fuuuuuuuture. And with these eldrich abilities, I shall predict what my final post of Blogathon will say. And it will say...

*waves hands; mutters stuff*

"It's over. Thank fuck."

Ah. A fine, time honored tradition.
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It's over. Thank fuck.
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Thanks to the lovely [personal profile] zarhooie, I now have a Dreamwidth account. Yay!
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Lily has had fall down go boom and is about to have some more. But before I do, I'd like to thank everyone who's supported me through Blogathon. Your help was invaluable. Individual comment replies will be coming soon - probably tomorrow morning. And yes, I will do my best to reply to each. G'night, now!

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