|god dammit, tumblr
||[14 Jul 2011|09:55am]
Tumblr is actually the devil's platform. I'm all up in there all damn day long, looking for gifs of Michael Fassbender running a hand ~sensually through his hair (NO REASON, JUST LOOKING) and posting pictures of baby dingoes. I hate you, tumblr. I used to do work. (Hahahahahah just kidding, no I didn't.)
But seriously, it is one of the most insanely ADD-enabling innovations I've ever encountered. I'm never sure if, like -- I start to write things about my life, and then I'm like "that's boring, nobody cares on Tumblr, take it to LJ," and then I look at LJ and it's like "wait, I have to create my own content? Why would I do that ever." and then I just go back to my slack-jawed life of info consumption. RITING IZ HARD. especially because it's the off-season so I'm having this, uh, slight minor x-men situation? I may have mentioned.
I CAN'T HELP THAT THEY GIVE ME FEELINGS. I just want to write 4,000-word sex scenes where they make slow tender brain love by gazing at each other and then Erik makes Charles a bouquet of roses out of metal and then everybody cries. Is that so wrong.
ugh here's an example of what tumblr dun did to me: I started this entry and I'm already petering out. What in god's name was I ever intending to talk about? Was I really going to whine about how the internet gives me too many opportunities to fuck around? APPARENTLY YES I WAS. if you have a tumblr you should come hang out with me so i'll have even MORE ways to waste time. I'm @sashayed. Motto: There Will Be Kitten Gifs.
ps did you guys know that that christopher pine fellow is still
STUPID HOT. so I guess tumblr has its uses after all.
|district cookies, mix tapes, and other appeasements
||[26 Jun 2011|04:12pm]
1. ugh, it's a good day. sittin on my front porch, drinkin a beer, creating elaborate art on my keratin outgrowths.
yeahhhhh peep that impasto, internet. MUST BE SUMMER
2. not unrelatedly, I made a summer mixtape. God, it's fuckin difficult to limit yourself to 25 songs, man! but I did it, because that was the arbitrary goal I set for myself. and what am i if not adherent to arbitrary goals.
( mix + tracklist.Collapse )
3. I'm mid-one of those WILL ACCOMPLISH THINGS NOW writing sessions; you can tell by the insane extent to which i'm procrastinating. anyway it becomes increasingly clear that the next part of the District is not going in its orignally conceived direction. so now I have a couple pieces of extracurricular media stuff that I can't use. i'mma just post them for fun.
( cris's work inbox + some wonkette.Collapse )
ETA: skdfj AND i forgot that the original purpose of this post was to say two things, neither of which I ended up saying.
1. FUCK YES NEW YORK FUCKKKKK YESSSSSSSS
2. I got one of them tumblrs the youth of today are so into: sashayed.tumblr.com. Do you also have a tumblr? Of course you do. What is it? I NEVER WANT TO ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING EVER AGAIN
|IDEK what this journal is turning into but I am enjoying it
||[10 Jun 2011|01:07pm]
People often ask me, "Rave, you are a pretty weird and introverted person afflicted with a number of mental illnesses and a thousand feelings, and also your hair behaves however in the fuck it pleases without regard for your preferences. How, in the face of these disadvantages, do you muster so much swag?"*
The answer, as indicated by the previous entry, is of course "stuff." No, it isn't. It's attitude towards stuff. And I am going to lead you through a beginner's guide to that attitude, because I got a new camera and it's really exciting and I took pictures of ALL THE THINGS!!! So here it is. Rave's Guide To Disposing Of Your Disposable Income, Living Well, and Being Awesome, Episode 2: How to Own Stuff You Love And Love Stuff You Own.** YMMV (Your Materialism May Vary).
( I like things.Collapse )
*nobody has ever actually asked me this? I figure it is only a matter of time though.
This song is the only truth you need ever know and also contains Amy Sedaris. The end. FUCKINNNN DOLLYYYYYY.
WELL that was a fun way to spend the morning. Projects for the rest of today: catching up on ancient comments, reaching 1000 words on my second help_japan story, and at some point maybe doing my job. Maybe. Probably.
|no wonder i don't have any money
||[16 May 2011|08:01pm]
I'm behind on comments and there are a trillion things I am tempted to talk about -- mostly, let's be honest, soccer, NBC's thursday night lineup (I think "The Fight" might have been my favorite episode of anything on television, ever? but maybe that's just the Snake Juice talking) and dudes. Because I watched Easy A again. That Stanley Tucci, AM I RIGHT LADIES???
But more importantly: consumerism. You know "Things I Bought That I Love," Mindy Kaling's tragically defunct listing of/commentary on same? I wanna do it. I buy things, especially now that I have a real job and I am confused by how much money that involves. (hint: it's not a lot. but anything over, say, $17k a year seems to me miraculous and I feel like I have to SPEND IT ALL RIGHT AWAY JESUS CHRIST I CANNOT DEAL WITH HAVING ANY MONEY GET IT OUT OF MY POCKETS.)
So here's some stuff I think is pretty great, for various shallow reasons. I bought it and I anti-regret it every day. You should buy it too.
( if you care about the global economy you should probably buy this crap you don't needCollapse )
I think ten is enough, so let's cut it off there. PLAY ME OFF, RON SWANSON/GREATEST GIF EVER
|help_japan fic #1: minus the shooting 1/? (trek rps, football rps[? ????])
||[07 May 2011|01:04pm]
title: Minus the Shooting (1/?)
author: Rave (dorkorific)
characters: Chris Pine, Xabi Alonso, Zachary Quinto, Steven Gerrard, etc.
disclaimer: Absolutely 100% untrue
summary: fragment of a larger AU. Chris Pine, the highest-paid American player in the EPL, makes an ill-thought-out transfer; Xabi Alonso, PR guru, has to handle the fallout. (Googledocs name: CFineIsFernandoTorresKindOf.)
notes: HAHAHAH WELL.
When I am old, and my grandchildren ask me what I have accomplished in my life, I will wheeze out, "One time...I wrote an internet fan fiction...where the guy from Star Trek...played professional soccer in England....and I took it....very seriously." And they will exchange nervous looks, but my face will be wreathed in a last contented smile.
Written for anna_unfolding's incredibly generous help_japan donation and hilarious/wonderful prompt. (srsly I kind of wish I could just post the email, it's goddamned amazing.) gurl. you are a great boss. thx for letting me do this in bits and i seriously hope you like it as that is my sole purpose rn.
( 'Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence: in other words it is war minus the shooting.'Collapse )
||[22 Apr 2011|01:56pm]
Little to say about the Copa final, except that I really, really love this team, like, to an extent that's genuinely stupid and uncalled for. and my affection for Cris -- never minor at the best of times -- reached points of genuine hysteria.
I MEAN, REALLY.
I've been wearing my jersey so often that I feel like it's gonna fuse to my body, like an exoskeleton. Whatever. Worth it. I wore it, in fact, to a DC United game with dae5885 last night; the dress code at DCU games, apparently, is less "wear DCU gear" than "wear something that shows you have heard of the sport of soccer." MAD arsenal jerseys up in that stadium, let me tell you. and one guy in a Torres LFC jersey. Dude. look at your choices.
Anyway, we got our asses handed to us -- 4-0, our worst loss at home in 11 years -- which dampened my spirits somewhat, but not really. On my way out of the stadium I tripped on the sidewalk and went absolutely ass over cupcakes, and was immediately helped up by crew of boisterous El Salvadoran dudes yelling HALA MADRID and ARE YOU OK MESUT and, best of all, YOU FELL LIKE THE COPA! "At least you didn't get hit by a bus!" said one of them as I dusted myself off.
"Sergioooooo," I said, pumping my fists. SERGIOOOOOOOOO, they yelled back.
UGH, IT WAS GREAT. Dae, thanks for tolerating me yesterday. I know it was not easy.
Poetry Month make-up extravaganza time now. some about lady stuff. some about other stuff.
( 16. Kim Addonizio: What Do Women Want?Collapse )
( 17. Matthea Harvey: The Straightforward MermaidCollapse )
( 18. Marie Ponsot: The Problem of FictionCollapse )
( 19. Czesław Miłosz: AccountCollapse )
( 20. Stephen Dunn: DecorumCollapse )
( 21. Pat Boran: A Man Is Only As GoodCollapse )
( 22. Robert Creeley: I Know A ManCollapse )
|the next two weeks should be some FUN TIMES
||[16 Apr 2011|03:33pm]
I painted my nails last night, while a) drunk and b) typing half-lucidly at tyrannicides. "i need to sleep with white nails," i thought, "otherwise how can we win????"
Needless to say they do not look so hot this morning. like, one of them has legit bite marks? meaning i gnawed off half of it in the night. good job. but other than that, i'm ( PREPPED FOR THIS.Collapse )
anyway, quick note to all of you on my flist who give a shit about CLASIPOCALYPSE: i'm pretty sure we're all stressed and probably at least halfway through our bottles of pre-match booze and/or comfort food, so let's all be nice to each other, at least in public. basic decency. i fully intend to put all my smug shit under a cut <---hahahahah nervous, halfhearted shit talking. anyway, in private feel free to talk about what a bunch of unrepentant dicks the other team & its supporters are. in the meantime,
INTER-TEAM CUDDLES/STRESS RELIEF MASSAGES FOR ALL.
|07. Frank O'Hara: Having A Coke With You; 08. Louise Glück: Anniversary
||[08 Apr 2011|01:04pm]
I'm singing at a wedding today. It's two of my best friends, and I can't tell if I'm going to cry or vomit or, like, vomit through my tears, because I love them so much. ahahhaha. MY FEELINGS. and it's just, like, I didn't think it would be that big a deal, because they've been together since college? so like, at this point who cares. AND YET HERE I AM, warming up in a hotel room in chicago, a complete mess.
pomes about love today.
( 07. Frank O'Hara: Having A Coke With YouCollapse )
( 08. Louise Glück: AnniversaryCollapse )
|06. Sylvia Plath: The Applicant
||[06 Apr 2011|01:26pm]
06. THE APPLICANT
First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,
Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand
To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed
To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit----
Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.
Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start
But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk , talk.
It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.
||[05 Apr 2011|01:19pm]
1. help_japan: absolutely massive. I'm so grateful to everybody who participated, so overwhelmed by the generosity of the winners, and so, SO psyched about my prompts. oooo if you guys only knewwww.
2. turned 26 this weekend. HA HA, BYE 25. You were a hell of a year. Remember those time I endured some heartwrenching/wackadoo family stuff, dropped out of law school, got serious and effective psychiatric treatment for the first time, lost all my money, fell chastely instantaneously gut-wrenchingly in hopeless love with a person for the first time, fell joyfully carnally insanely in love with writing for the second time, and got my first real job? Oh, wait, that was ALL THIS YEAR? jesus fucking christ. No wonder I literally had this conversation with a friend of mine:
HER: So are you excited for your birthday?
ME: Eh. Sort of. I mean, it's just -- it's kind of. Late twenties, you know? I guess I would have thought I'd accomplished more by this age.*
HER: I don't know that I'd call it "late" twenties.
ME: Well, you know. Twenty-seven, I'd call that late twenties. Like how an eighty-seven is a B plus.
HER: You -- what year were you born.
ME: Nineteen eighty-fi....oh.
*jk. I have actually accomplished plenty.
Anyway, it was also the first time that I have totally not cared about doing anything on the day, or whether anyone remembered, and that part was really nice. I got to have a booze brunch with my friends and a fancy tapas dinner with the fam, including a magnificent interlude during which my mom tipsily described the entire plot of my favorite movie to my dad, who was totally bewildered. "ONLY THEN SHE GETS UP ON STAGE YOU KNOW AND SHE SAYS 'I CAN DO ANY OF THE ROUTINES, JUST NAME A ROUTINE,' BUT THEN THE BAD DEVELOPER GUY WITH THE HANDSOME BEARD TRIES TO WOO HER WITH SHOES, ONLY SHE'S IN LOVE WITH THE BARTENDER WHO WEARS THE EYELINER BECAUSE SHE THINKS HE'S GAY, ONLY HE ISN'T GAY BUT HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND." much attention paid to how much she loves stanley tucci [like mother, like daughter, apparently]. I almost wept. So all in all, I give this birthday a thumbs-up.
3. more importantly. poetry. these are three of my absolute favorites, and each one deserves its own entry. If not, like, its own graduate thesis. Ugh, who am I kidding, everything I post this month will be my favorites. But really, you should read these.
( 03. Rita Dove: Hades' PitchCollapse )
( 04. Galway Kinnell: Saint Francis and the SowCollapse )
( 05. Dean Young: On Being Asked By A Student If He Should Ask Out Some GirlCollapse )
|01. se llama poesía; 02. otters
||[01 Apr 2011|09:53am]
omg omg National Poetry Month: the most beautiful month of the year, even if it's distinctly NOT beautiful right now. because I haven't taken on enough, I'm gonna tear a page from the book of yeats and try to post at least 30 poems, one for each day of April. I already know this is a doomed enterprise, because I will be at 12,000 weddings. So some days we'll have two. Today is such a day.
01. SE LLAMA POESIA
Pedro Arturo Estrada
trans. Laura Chalar
—Homenaje a Aldo Pellegrini
( Se llama poesía todo aquello que cierra la puerta a los imbéciles, sí.Collapse )
So much of poetry
Is filled with stuff
That fills poetry. Also,
This stuff is so often
Arranged in a way
Stuff is arranged
In poetry. We ought
To get together
And steal time
From our jobs
To put stuff
And arrange it
In a way stuff
Isn’t usually arranged.
Click here to watch
A video of otters
Floating, holding hands.
|DRIVEBY DRUNK/JOYFUL POST
||[30 Mar 2011|11:24pm]
WOO BOY GUYS
BIDDING ON help_japan ENDS TONIIIIIGHT and man I am so excited to wake up tomorrow and find out what i'm gonna write. It's like christmas! CLAPPY SEAL HANDS! !!!
I am honestly amazed at the generosity people have exhibited so far, to the point that I almost feel presumptuous encouraging y'all to continue bidding? whatever, that shit's for a good cause, AND it's tax-deductible, what up. HIT ME RIGHT HERE.
also omg do you guys know what april is
NATIONAL POETRY MONTH
and i will be posting so much poetry
so I think it's time for a preview
how about this one. for learning.
Listen up. This is how
We're about to count from now on.
We got a one: I. We got a five: V.
We got a ten: X. We got a fifty: L.
We got a hundred: C. We got a five hundred: D.
Also plus we got a thousand: M.
That's it. That's all we need.
The fuck with dealing out letters
to two three four six seven eight nine,
eleven twelve thirteen etcetera.
Those motherfuckers can go eat shit.
The rule is: you add the little fish
if it comes after the big fish
because the big fish eats it, right?
When the little fish comes before
the big fish, you take it away -
on account of the big fish ain't
ate it yet, okay? Any questions?
Whaddya mean howdya write
one hundred and sixty-four?
Am I talking to myself here?
This means Tony the Scribe
only needs to know seven letters
to run any number we tell him.
Okay, let's go eat Chinese.
|po tay to hash with whatever
||[24 Mar 2011|08:09pm]
Oh, hello, internet. I didn't see you there. Welcome to my stately tudor farmhouse!* I was just arranging some flowers** and handweaving a basket of rushes from my garden.*** Today, we're going to cook a delicious**** artisanal peasant feast!***** Join me, won't you?
( po tay to hash, with whatever: another narrative recipe.Collapse )
*flophouse in Shaw
***flipping between "snapped" and "an idiot abroad"
*****food for poor people.
closes in two days ETA: the sagacious mardia informs me that actually it closes on, uh, the 30th or possibly the 31st. So um, no rush.
HOWEVER, my thread is still here, I'll be ficcing for the highest two bidders, and let me re-emphasize, I WILL WRITE THE SHIT OUT OF WHATEVER YOU WANT provided I know anything about it. Do you want an AU where Chris Pine is an up-and-coming American soccer star and he has to ~*~prove himself~*~, sensually, to the player of your choice? I will do that. Do you want Regency lotrips? I will do that. Do you want Judi Dench/James Franco? ...oh, that's just me?
Whatever. You guys are lame.
re that poll I posted whenever-ago: Y'all are almost as pantsless a crew as I am. I LOVE IT.
|football rps: well. porn.
||[14 Mar 2011|09:21pm]
Title: The District, Outtake 1: The Au Pair
Author: Rave (dorkorific)
Fandoms: Football RPF AU
Characters: Xabi Alonso, Mats Hummels, Steven Gerrard
Disclaimer: I probably don't have to tell you that this entire premise is ludicrous.
Warnings: explicit sex, voyeurism(?), power-play-ish themes
Summary: Political AU; Xabi meets the guy taking care of Stevie's kids.
Notes: OKAY WELL. The next part of the District is goin’ slow, but I guess that's one of the fun little quirks of the WIP as an “art form.” So why don’t I post some sexy sexy sex stuff that can’t actually fit into the story? For example: did u know there is District backstory wherein Mats Hummels is the Gerrards’ au pair, and he and Xabi have a month of WILD NSA BANGIN, which is great for them but really uncomfortable for Stevie? It’s true! But unfortunately, it is problematic in terms of characterization/storyline! So that’s what this is: an AU of an AU, created solely as an excuse for shameless porn involving Xabi Alonso and Mats Hummels.
Oh, do you want some kind of context? OK, uh, it’s spring 2009, Mats is a German hipster art student and au pair and, as in real life, a man who looks like Bernini’s David. Therein endeth the context.
yeats wrote significant portions of this with me on gchat while we were both at work. Great job, thanks everybody.
( Stevie hadn’t meant to stumble in on -- whatever this was.Collapse )
And then there’s the part where uh. this happens?
( 'No one will see your face,' Mats promised.Collapse )
|a public service announcement, sponsored by just blaze & the good folks at roc-a-fella records
||[13 Mar 2011|09:21pm]
While chipping away at Districtverse (sneak peak: Cris and Lilly-Ella are bffs), I signed up for help_japan. Because, I don't know. I've somehow never done fandom charity before? I just -- the footage is fucking awful, and whatever, my thread is here, if you should happen to be interested in some ridiculous crossover AU in which Robert Downey Jr. and Pepe Reina fight crime in the 1920s, or whatever it is that I do.
Also, because I feel shitty about not having participated in this kind of thing years ago, I'll match a portion of any bids I get and send it to Direct Relief's continuing efforts in Haiti. More bang for your buck!