There and Back Again
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Third Age Correspondence
Proper dwarves offer their services before they leave.
The Grey Havens - 04/03/2004 Long Time Gone - 22/02/2004 Only for Now - 04/02/2004 The Neverland - 19/01/2004 There's no times at all, just the New York Times - 15/01/2004 Links and RingsNo Shame Pieces Untitled Story Other Writings |
17/02/2002 - 1:11 p.m. C'est moi, c'est moi, c'est moi Well, 1,000 visitors. It looks so pretty and round and important. I got my HTMLness all worked out, fiddled with it for two hours and nothing worked and lo and behold, Jen came in the night (or possibly that part of the morning during which I was not yet awake) and left the answer. She figures rather highly on my list of awesome Diaryland people, in case anyone wanted to know. I watched Camelot last night. Found it yesterday at Suncoast. It was a terrifying experience to walk into the place and start looking around for VHS tapes. They're not there, the things they haven't sold out of yet are on the walls in the back of Suncoast. Instead, the cases are filled with the demure, slim, security plastic-cased, unobtrusive DVD's that are slowly taking over with their extra features and CD-like appearance. I have declared war on DVD's. They're sinisterly expensive, and are they really that much better? What if I don't want to be able to translate all my movies into Spanish? Oh, I was talking about Camelot...sorry. Anyway, I had never seen the movie before, but have heard of it's goodness from every reliable source and so bought and watched it. It's so anti-typical of the 60's and fantasy stories, I love it, plus, it's a musical. But, it's not good for me to watch romantic fantasty stories right now. I'm in too close a mood to wanting to live one. I'm called away, I'll be back. OK, I'm back, were you Beethoven? My mother wants me to do all these playwriting competitions. I say to that- mother, I don't have time. First, I would have to write another play. Everything is supposed to be unproduced, unseen, never before released, etc., and when you've only got two one acts and one rehashing of King Lear (which is really only a school project and not really viable as a work of real theatrical genius) to send out to people, that leaves you with very little completely new material. (All my stuff's getting tired and I haven't had any of it for more than three years. Good greif.) And besides that, I do not intend to be around this summer, which is when most of these things are being judged. I'm a little hesitant on the Stephen Sondheim thing, because if I were to go to that (which I highly doubt) I'm almost positive it's in the summer. Anyway, I have enough going on right now. I'm not able to get up the desire to send things in. It takes a lot of paper, and a lot of postage, and getting to the post (which no one in the family is keen on). And one last excuse, right now, I hate everything I'm writing. Nothing's good enough at the moment, I just need to step back from being my harshest critic for a while and everything will be OK. November is the best time of the year for me to write. I supect that if I sat down in November and just wrote non stop, without doing anything else, I would turn out some fairly good stuff. However, that doesn't happen until school is over for me, really. I really admire those old Greek philosophers whose job it was to sit around and think and write and be smart. I mean, think about it, they got a lot of stuff right. I could go for that, but, nobody pays you for a degree in philosophy anymore. You rarely see things like that advertised in the paper: Wanted, One Philosopher to think out difficult moral problem. Will pay good money.�From the Shire, down the Anduin, to Mordor
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