I

I think this is a glorious post, but can't tell you the reasons why I think it so.
Sometimes I wish I were more analytical, but...
... but then I think maybe I wouldn't like quite as much stuff as I do.

Like people who are fussy about sound and can't listen to crap recordings of awesome songs or slightly out of tune radio stations playing their favourite song.

Am debating on whether I will post to Meme Kettle or not.  I wish she would post more.  But since I am slacking in my on posting I am not in a position to demand.  But perhaps I am in a position to ask?  And I wish the ever so delightful Catastophhe Waitress (*hic* sorry am pissed can't spell) would also post.

But then by extention (or is it sion?) I should also post to all my favourite bloggers who have stopped blogging asking them to post and I've not the energy.  Perhaps I should post one non-blogging blogger a week?  Break it down into manageable proprotions?  As a gesture of good faith to my bid for blogging my own self out of the well of boringness that I drown under.  But would I then be one of those embarrassing people who get up before anybody else at awkward parties trying to encourage everybody else to dance?  I am sooooo not that person.  I don't even go to parties for lands sake.

Should I suggestion some consistantly logical random way of nominating a topic?  Like writing something incorporating the word of the day from the online dictionary?  Or stabbing a finger in a newspaper, rather like randomly opening the bible and reading each day as was somewhere suggested to me in my youth growing up within the catholic fold.  Where did I get that idea from anyway?  Darned if I know.

I stole a bible once, did you know?
I think it was when we were choosing our confirmation name.
I really really wanted to choose Ruth because I was told it was one of the names in running for my birth name, but in the end too many people went ewwwww and I choose Cecillia instead because her picture in the saint book had nice hair and she was playing a piano and there were animals about.  She was also wearing quite a pretty frock.
Sister Wombat, whose actual name I cannot remember, we all called her Sister Wombat when she wasn't around, encouraged me to take a bible home to read to help me choose a confirmation name.  She didn't seem to like Ruth much either, thought she was nicer about it than others and told me it meant mercy, which I was rather taken with.  

Perhaps we could brain storm a list of topics and then randomly draw them out from a hat?  What if we all drew out the same topic?  That would be awesome enough for its own post.  Perhaps we could just pick one topic and then post about that adnauseum?  That would hum harmoniously with the inner me that loves shaggy dog jokes and tease my competitve edge all at the same time.  Who can write the best post on one subject!  ooo ooo ooo Isowannadothatnow

but ... I probably won't.

I shall probably have another glass of wine and continue reading Marieke Hardy's book which I am enjoying tremandously (tramendously?) (fuck it lots).  As soon as I've finished I am sending it to my Uncle Sidney to read :)

hands over ears la la la la la

I am sooo bad.  Have spent last few days mostly in bed reading. 

Bought the second Autobiography by Russell Brand, which was as funny as the first one.  And shocking.  And had those few times that I have to slam the book down and close my eyes and scream no no no don't do that, before he recounted the embarassing thing and the belly laugh out loud moment, which in the first one was the stripper he'd spat on in retalation for the slap she gave him and then had to beg the use of her phone cause he'd shut himself out of the appartment, possibly naked - can't quite remember now.  In this one it involved a dog.  Laughed so hard I started coughing and had to go have a glass of water.

Re-read some Lois McMaster Bujold books. 
Re-read some Tamora Pierce books.

My sloth reaching new heights or depths considering how you look at it.

Should be gardening and tending to my tomatos which appear to be dying. damnit.

Gosh darn well cleaning all the kitty litter trays out thoroughly tonight for my poor neglected kitties.  I am neglecting them too, though they appear to be loving the whole day snuggling on the bed opportunity.

My delightfuly 90 year old neighbour watched the show about alien abduction.  He's had instances where he has woken from sleep unable to move and I had previously mentioned to him about the sleep paryalsis (sp?) but he never really pays attention to what I say and was delighted to tell me all about it after watching the sceptic lady on the show explaining about it. lol

Saturday

No breakfast for me.  A slow stumble about the house, early hydration then a lame leap to scooter and putter to my sisters to proudly extend my copy of Cryoburn by Lois McMaster Bujold for her reading pleasure.

I have taken the opportunity to watch the first episode of the late session wot Dan Kelly was on.  Very enjoyable though I find Jack Thompson much easier to understand when he puts on an accent.  He doesn't move his lips enough in his normal conversational speaking voice and its a little too slurred for me to understand easily.

I think its because I come from a family of mildly deaf people - lots of loud voices are used - plus we all enunciate a lot due to early "art of speech" lessons (not so much me but my sisters and probably my mother before us).

I am going to make an effort to write something today.  I've done nothing creative for ages.  I feel  dull, like the colour is bleeding out of me.

Failing in my duty of care of the little grey matter

Am reading some very silly books at the moment.

The premise being; group of greek gods guards are jealous that Pandora is picked to guard the box.  They decide to show the gods how tuff they are and that they made the wrong choice.  They steal the box, open it, with the plan being to put all the demons back in after they escape, to show their superiority.  They fail and as punishment the escaped demons, who are too strong to be held by anything but the special box which has disappeared, the escaped demons possess the guards who are banished to earth.


They are immortal and to start with the demons of pain, wrath etc hold control and do much damage, but as time has passed the guards have control and lead an uneasy existance with their demons. For instance, the guard housing pain has to cut himself all the time to 'feed' the demon and maintain control.

It's so very Emo.  Of course, all this is solved by the love of the right woman and lots of sex.

I can feel my brain's rotting as I read.

Passing through

I finished The Well of Ascension (sp?) and Brandon Sanderson surprised me.  I know he was hitting one over the head with a mallet with the idea, but I did not even contemplate the ending.  No thought lent to it at all.  Not even a 'what if'. That man deserves a cookie.

Bounce Bounce Bounce

Good morning *greeting practically sung in an appallingly cheery voice - vibrating with goodwill*

I have possessed a copy of Book Two of Mistborn for weeks, but have not been able to make myself read anything new. 

I don't understand this new relationship I have with books.  I lived and breathed to read.  It kept me sane.  If I were not eating or sleeping I would be reading.  Sometimes reading instead of sleeping.  Sometimes reading instead of eating.  I would very nearly have anxiety attacks if I did not have a book with me when I left the house.  This new 'meh' attitude to picking up a new book to read is ... incomprehensible to me.

However, having said that I started The Well of Ascension last night and it is AWESOME!

I knew it would be and it is - isn't that wonderful :)

*happy sigh*

My friend agreed that I was a doofus head for not noticing the A.Ron thing before.  Though she spelt doofus dufus.  I wonder which is correct?  I like doofus better.  It reminds me of phooey.  Which reminds me of snoopy.  Snoopy is cool.

My Blossom-cat woke me from a dead sleep by knocking my vomit bowl off a bookcase he had jumped on.  The vomit bowl is not currently in use, that is just where I keep it.  It is one of those steel mixing bowls and makes a loud almost ringing noise when it hits the ground.  Gong like.

My beloved Bubba-cat then proceeded to vomit oceanfish flavoured catfood over my sandles.  I did not feel up to attempting to clean it up this morning and read some more of the book instead.  Something to look forward to when I get home, ey?  Maybe the other cats will eat the vomit before I get home?  Like that unfortunately incident when I last used the vomit bowl after I'd drunk too much gin & tonic after eating bbq chicken.  I cannot recommend it as an early morning discovery when one is direly hungover.

To hot to do anything

The young man at Cash Converters heartily approved of my DVD collection, however this did not mean they were going to pay me more than $1.50 per DVD - sigh.

The second hand book shop dude resisted giving me any money, though offerred to give me credit at the shop, which is no good to me cause I mostly don't find books I want to read in secondhand book shops. 

He remembered who I was after my third trip between car and shop and told me that last time one of the books I gave him went for $300.

He has taken my phone number this time, so that he can call me to see if I want the book back or commission.  He did not offer to give me any of the $300 - sigh.

Busy Buzzing Bee

It is nearly 8 am and I am at my sisters.
She has just brought coffee to me at her computer.

I am borrowing their car today.

I believe I mentioned I'd been sorting through books with the intent to be ruthless as a beginning to a more ruthless approach to the cleaning out of my flat.  It kind of stalled after I'd sorted through all the books because I had no way of then removing them from my home before I changed my mind again, thus the borrowing of the car.

I don't suppose JCat is still reading?  I am not sure if I am remembering her name right?  I shall have a look back over my posts to see if I can find her.  She asked once if she could have the Anne McCaffery books I'd mentioned maybe attempting to sell on Ebay.  I would much rather give them away to somebody who would like them.  The big A3 sized one is called "A Diversity of Dragons".  Another is called Dragonholder, which is I think a book written by her son about her and another small A5 hardback called "If wishes were Horses".

At the time I couldn't find where I'd put them and thought perhaps I'd already given them to the secondhand book store, but I found them at the bottom of the glory chest which I thought contained old paperwork - but which in actuality contained bags of books I hadn't gotten to take to the secondhand book store for some reason or an other - perhaps they didn't fit in the car - certainly I gave an awful lot of books away last time.

If I ever manage to whittle away at my nicknacks I will then be left with the last and hardest task of all - the burning of all the little scraps of paper I still possess of my attempts to write stories from when I was small.

Stuff

My uncle sidney was excited about a book he'd read about in the paper, but than had misplaced the article. Something about the Dutch armarda, that nobody ever knew about. So I have googled it for him and it is:

Going Dutch: How England Plundered Holland's Glory is published by Penguin.
Lisa Jardine, professor of Renaissance studies at London University

I got to tell him I found it tonight. He is stoked. He said he watched the Tony Robinson thing last night and managed not to say anything at all today with the old men that he meets up with on the Strand at Wynnum every morning. None of them are interested in history.

He was telling me of one of the other old men - Gordon - had been out for his morning ride and this young slip of a thing passed him ... whilst running. So he caught up with her and passed her and then arrived at his destination and leaned against a pole and had to get friends to help him off his bike, whilst outside the little slip of a girl continued past. Two kilometres. It took hiim two kilometres to catch up and pass her. Uncle Sid figures she must have been a serious athelete. Marathon runner or something. Poor Gordon is still being teased. Uncle Sidney is planning on telling his family. I can just see it now. Grandchildren telling their granddad to hop on his bike and they'll race him round the block - hahahahahahahahah

Laurell K Hamilton

corrupting coworkers with erotic, bloody books
attempt to grill for spoillers yesterday afternoon foiled
stewing in her own juices
as it were
ha!