It's as if I have a disease and instead of my cells, it's eating my personality.

[foxtongue]

I'm being paid to be a lesbian today. This sounds like I answered the sort of advert that lurks blank faced in the back of the newspaper, but the sky outside is dull dirty gray and repels my usual humour. Instead, as I wake, it reminds me of my tumbling stomach and the basic human need for food. I want to go tear out the throat of a rabbit and drink its life like an angsty neo-sapien. That I'm going to be paid to hit on girls in front of a camera isn't really impacting. My hair is 80's rock star huge and I'm trying to care enough to debate make-up. Which begs my asking if I even have any that's appropriate. It's unlikely. There's tiny spots of blood crusted in my hair, which tell me I was wounded at some random point last night, there must be a cut somewhere, the company I was expecting for part way has abandoned me, I suspect that as an adult, I should get used to hit and run, and I've yet to have a proper meal in two days. Brush this off, however, I'm sure. I'm merely having a bad morning.

self reminder: bring SIN card to the set. If I forget, there might be problems.

I have that crippling fear of If I Leave the House Today I Will End Up in The Wrong Place. It's vague, but it's faintly irritating me. I'm going to blame emotional instability. It's rare but when it hits, oh my stars and garters, does it pull deep. "The scary thing about you is that you mean to do all you're doing." I'm still not doing well. The brain is loathing all that hurt piling up. My heart isn't as sturdy as I'm good at making it be. The damned world has been throwing me bones with splinters in. I don't ask for anything fair, I ask there to be balance and redress. I ask that we try some before we refuse to buy on the basis of cold winter nights. It's been a month since I was kept up at night by anyone interesting, I'm obviously failing at being young again. The youngest centennial, that isn't me. I sit on the curb after getting out of the cab and speak words alone into warm early morning. Why is there nobody here? I'm always coming back to this box, but it's not like there's ever been anyone here.

a robot film, short
a robot film, dannybo(y/t)
a robot contest for the most impressive looking laser-wielding, earth destroying robot
a picture of a robot

Also, a partial explanation as to why Nicholas was continually declaiming Exeunt! on his Vancouver visit.

Comments

[mad-and-crazy.livejournal.com]

Wot? That was James!

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

No, James claimed he required Cigarettes of Victory because all the pretty girls were smooshing him goodbye.

(And Andrew is making me nervous, wanting to make a fan film... I expect I'll end up tied to a chair.)

[mad-and-crazy.livejournal.com]

Oh, I am SO there. I even have a trenchcoat and a fake nose.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

That does not make me feel any safer.

[mad-and-crazy.livejournal.com]

Danger was my maiden name. Now it's Trump.

[mad-and-crazy.livejournal.com]

... and you know what? If you jump-tackled me like that I think I'd need a Cigarette of Victory too. Or possibly just an exeunt.

[inri33.livejournal.com]

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I will be victolius!

[gunn.livejournal.com]

Yes. Robots. Sad robots, most importantly.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

True, melancholy circuits are important to remember.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

found something else too.

[gunn.livejournal.com]

The editor's name is Eileen Gunn, and so I keep seeing my username everywhere!

[actingbunny.livejournal.com]

honestly if you didnt have to do anything today i'd advocate staying in. I've done the whole not listening to myself when i know damn well i shouldn'd be going somewhere- it has always ended badly.

if you do go out i recomend taking a bent peice of metal rod with screws tied to the end ala flail style, warn people that you are infact the pain fairy and are full of magical spite and much hurt.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

Mine is a lingering bit of training form a relationship that curdled. I'm slowly breaking it, the compulsion to not leave the house by myself used to be much worse. I've had to call people to come fetch me out of the house because I couldn't do it alone. I would be standing with my key in hand unable to take another step out of the door.

[plaidalicious.livejournal.com]

y'know i really had to dig (not being a regular reader of Warren Ellis's blog, stunningly enough) for an exeunt from that link.

Bah! Bah! i say.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

What?? I didn't send you to anything bad. He's been doing a sort little riff of them, sort of a hand-me-down guitar sort of thing but with nasty ideas and instead of strings, corpses.

[waylonmccann.livejournal.com]

paid to be a lezbian??

[michel-lacombe.livejournal.com]

Doesn't "exeunt" mean "*they* leave"? But I pick at a nit.