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Jul. 9th, 2003 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clayhornikWell. I've had a week that's kept me busy. Haven't written anything in almost a week. I cleaned up my room some and I think I misplaced my muse somewhere.
--
The 4th wasn't bad, I hung out with my friend Amy, while Sunday I an old friend was in town from NYC. I saw Silent Bob & Jay Strike Back. Vulgar. Crass. Good for a few giggles. I saw Adaptation. Enjoyable.
--
I read China Mieville's Perdito Street Station. Wow. He's a fantasiest of the first order. Here's a link to an excerpt: *. I'd read his sequal The Scar earlier. Similiar in feel but different in scope. PSS is urban based, a fully realized fantasy world, but not too jarring in it's sense of fantasy. Everything feels believable, even the outre aspects, like the races of beetle people, frog people and cactus people. He weaves separate plotlines, a sculptress creating a sculputer of a mob boss and a scientist trying to give flight back to a crippled birdman into a larger scheme of things encompassing the city, inculding a clockwork sentient AI and the mechanations of a corrput city government.
--
I bought Caitlin Kiernan's "The Road to Jefferson" chapbook off of ebay, it arrived Saturday, right after my day off was interrupted by a call into work. It's the non fiction story behind her novella In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers. Karmic balance.
--
Harry Potter mania still continues. Ug. I've been telling children that one of the characters, Dobby, an elf (as in "the shoemaker and the elves" rather than Lord of the Rings pretty boy elf), goes crazy and has to be put down. I tell them he runs around with his sock (read the books) muttering "My prescious, my prescious." Kids are pretty savvy. When a seven year old calls you on it- "that's not harry potter... that's gollum!"- it's actually pretty cool.
Pirates of the Caribbean opens this weekend. Pirates. Yummy.
--
I had an odd dream this morning. My mom had adopted an AfrAm baby, a little girl, named Gracie. There was some sort of family gathering and Gracie disappeared. Amber alert city. I awoke with a feeling of anxiety, like I'd lost a set of keys, but worse, because, well, it was a baby.
--
A couple of days ago, I dreamt that Rogue and I were going to the .99 cinema on the penninsula to see bad Kung Fu action flicks. Ah, the old days. There used to be a kick ass cinema on Granby Street. Sigh. Love gentrification.
--
Had some crappy stuff happen this weekend, but really, everyone has crappy stuff. So I won't go into it.
--
Every so often I remember bits and pieces of stuff. I had a flash back to elementry school the other day. My dad has an odd sense of humour sometimes. I had been out sick, so he wrote my excuse note and signed it "Clay's Father". The administration was not amused.
My feelings for my father aren't quantative in my life, because he worked damn hard to give me and my sisters a good life; qualitatively, I probably had one of the richest and best childhoods I could have. I hear such awful stories from people and I thank God for having such a loving dad. I wish he read this journal tho. "Write when you learn how" my ass...
--
Am broke this week... just have to hold on til Thursday. Extra $$ because I worked Saturday and I *think* the holiday pay for Friday will be time and a half.
--
I like music. I like "true crime" - here's a fascinating story about singer Mia Zapata . I'd never heard of the band, I suppose that's because there were so many bands coming into the scene way back when and they were a west coast band, but I'm glad I've gotten a chance to appreciate them.
--
The 4th wasn't bad, I hung out with my friend Amy, while Sunday I an old friend was in town from NYC. I saw Silent Bob & Jay Strike Back. Vulgar. Crass. Good for a few giggles. I saw Adaptation. Enjoyable.
--
I read China Mieville's Perdito Street Station. Wow. He's a fantasiest of the first order. Here's a link to an excerpt: *. I'd read his sequal The Scar earlier. Similiar in feel but different in scope. PSS is urban based, a fully realized fantasy world, but not too jarring in it's sense of fantasy. Everything feels believable, even the outre aspects, like the races of beetle people, frog people and cactus people. He weaves separate plotlines, a sculptress creating a sculputer of a mob boss and a scientist trying to give flight back to a crippled birdman into a larger scheme of things encompassing the city, inculding a clockwork sentient AI and the mechanations of a corrput city government.
--
I bought Caitlin Kiernan's "The Road to Jefferson" chapbook off of ebay, it arrived Saturday, right after my day off was interrupted by a call into work. It's the non fiction story behind her novella In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers. Karmic balance.
--
Harry Potter mania still continues. Ug. I've been telling children that one of the characters, Dobby, an elf (as in "the shoemaker and the elves" rather than Lord of the Rings pretty boy elf), goes crazy and has to be put down. I tell them he runs around with his sock (read the books) muttering "My prescious, my prescious." Kids are pretty savvy. When a seven year old calls you on it- "that's not harry potter... that's gollum!"- it's actually pretty cool.
Pirates of the Caribbean opens this weekend. Pirates. Yummy.
--
I had an odd dream this morning. My mom had adopted an AfrAm baby, a little girl, named Gracie. There was some sort of family gathering and Gracie disappeared. Amber alert city. I awoke with a feeling of anxiety, like I'd lost a set of keys, but worse, because, well, it was a baby.
--
A couple of days ago, I dreamt that Rogue and I were going to the .99 cinema on the penninsula to see bad Kung Fu action flicks. Ah, the old days. There used to be a kick ass cinema on Granby Street. Sigh. Love gentrification.
--
Had some crappy stuff happen this weekend, but really, everyone has crappy stuff. So I won't go into it.
--
Every so often I remember bits and pieces of stuff. I had a flash back to elementry school the other day. My dad has an odd sense of humour sometimes. I had been out sick, so he wrote my excuse note and signed it "Clay's Father". The administration was not amused.
My feelings for my father aren't quantative in my life, because he worked damn hard to give me and my sisters a good life; qualitatively, I probably had one of the richest and best childhoods I could have. I hear such awful stories from people and I thank God for having such a loving dad. I wish he read this journal tho. "Write when you learn how" my ass...
--
Am broke this week... just have to hold on til Thursday. Extra $$ because I worked Saturday and I *think* the holiday pay for Friday will be time and a half.
--
I like music. I like "true crime" - here's a fascinating story about singer Mia Zapata . I'd never heard of the band, I suppose that's because there were so many bands coming into the scene way back when and they were a west coast band, but I'm glad I've gotten a chance to appreciate them.
