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krislaughsYAY! Three-day weekend is finally here after only twelve days of work. :-D
Okay, so I'd like to be writing. And to talk about stories. Preferably XMFC. I made Indian curry with mushrooms and salmon for dinner. I opened a bottle of wine I'd been saving, and it's just as LOVELY as expected (despite the staining on the cork, that terrified me it would be spoilt).
I'm almost done re-reading Jane Eyre and... dude, there's so much more sexual tension in that novel than I was even aware of in middle school. :-P It's great. I'm thinking I ought to re-read Wuthering Heights...
Simul-reading The Subtle Knife and The Neon Court, and it's a little surrealistic. I love it.
~
Um, here's a snippet of one I've been working on that--the whole doesn't flow at all, but I really like this moment.
“It was a plane crash,” Alex told him once, weeks before. They were standing in front of the curvilinear, black bird that had been his pet project for the last three years, before she ended up as a heap of twisted metal in the basement. He knew every contour and circuit that would lift her into the air, and he couldn’t understand why Alex, his friend—and since Raven had decided normal wasn’t enough for her, his only and most unexpected one—wouldn’t set foot on board.
Hank turned to look. Alex’s jaw was tight, hands buried in his jeans pockets. “My dad was a pilot and—it was just a stupid fishing trip, I didn’t even really want to go. Something happened to one of the engines, I think. I mostly remember the smell and the smoke and coughing a lot.” He was looking anywhere but at Hank—or at the plane. “I don’t even really know what they said when they were strapping the only two parachutes on my little brother and me, when they were pushing us out the door. Last words and all, and I can’t remember a damn one. How pathetic is that?” He finally looked up. Hank met his stare, defiant and heartbreakingly blue.
“I’m so—“ Sorry Hank wasn’t sure what he was or what he could say that wouldn’t be thoroughly inadequate. He had no frame of reference for real loss in a life that suddenly seemed so innocent; the worst tragedy that ever befell him was that he could never play barefoot in his family’s yard, never run in the spray of open fire hydrants in the summer or change in the common locker rooms at school. He moved towards Alex.
“Don’t.” Alex’s eyes were clear, and he looked up at the plane like it was Sebastian Shaw’s ugly face, laughing and daring him to get on board. All Hank could think was shit, he screwed the pooch on this one, assuming inviting Alex for the test flight would be… fun.
“Last I saw Scott,” Alex’s voice cracked over his brother’s name, the only time it did, “his ‘chute was up in flames. Then there was just the ground and the sirens and no one ever even found the wreckage.” He exhaled, swallowed, and Hank could almost see angry red sparks jumping over his skin. He pushed past Hank and stepped up to the ladder and open door. “I guess I’d better get over it, huh? Not gonna be much use to you guys if I can’t even get to the fight.”
Hank sees patterns in the calculus of other people, in the math of life, and that’s why he was so surprised that a plasma-slinging ex-con mutant who’d been something of a bully since the day they met, could so consistently surprise him. And he was even more surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Even this confession, the unforgotten tragedy, made something churn, warm and aching in the pit of his belly. Suddenly he was the one who couldn’t meet Alex’s eyes.
They flew in silence. Eventually, Alex even loosened his white-knuckle grip on the arm rests and peered out the window at the landscape disappearing below them. The bird was perfect, cruising over trees and fields and houses until the whole world fell away. She was everything he’d designed her to be, but somehow, that didn’t even seem to matter anymore.
~
Okay. That's what I got. Gonna see if Terra Nova is available OnDemand.
Okay, so I'd like to be writing. And to talk about stories. Preferably XMFC. I made Indian curry with mushrooms and salmon for dinner. I opened a bottle of wine I'd been saving, and it's just as LOVELY as expected (despite the staining on the cork, that terrified me it would be spoilt).
I'm almost done re-reading Jane Eyre and... dude, there's so much more sexual tension in that novel than I was even aware of in middle school. :-P It's great. I'm thinking I ought to re-read Wuthering Heights...
Simul-reading The Subtle Knife and The Neon Court, and it's a little surrealistic. I love it.
~
Um, here's a snippet of one I've been working on that--the whole doesn't flow at all, but I really like this moment.
“It was a plane crash,” Alex told him once, weeks before. They were standing in front of the curvilinear, black bird that had been his pet project for the last three years, before she ended up as a heap of twisted metal in the basement. He knew every contour and circuit that would lift her into the air, and he couldn’t understand why Alex, his friend—and since Raven had decided normal wasn’t enough for her, his only and most unexpected one—wouldn’t set foot on board.
Hank turned to look. Alex’s jaw was tight, hands buried in his jeans pockets. “My dad was a pilot and—it was just a stupid fishing trip, I didn’t even really want to go. Something happened to one of the engines, I think. I mostly remember the smell and the smoke and coughing a lot.” He was looking anywhere but at Hank—or at the plane. “I don’t even really know what they said when they were strapping the only two parachutes on my little brother and me, when they were pushing us out the door. Last words and all, and I can’t remember a damn one. How pathetic is that?” He finally looked up. Hank met his stare, defiant and heartbreakingly blue.
“I’m so—“ Sorry Hank wasn’t sure what he was or what he could say that wouldn’t be thoroughly inadequate. He had no frame of reference for real loss in a life that suddenly seemed so innocent; the worst tragedy that ever befell him was that he could never play barefoot in his family’s yard, never run in the spray of open fire hydrants in the summer or change in the common locker rooms at school. He moved towards Alex.
“Don’t.” Alex’s eyes were clear, and he looked up at the plane like it was Sebastian Shaw’s ugly face, laughing and daring him to get on board. All Hank could think was shit, he screwed the pooch on this one, assuming inviting Alex for the test flight would be… fun.
“Last I saw Scott,” Alex’s voice cracked over his brother’s name, the only time it did, “his ‘chute was up in flames. Then there was just the ground and the sirens and no one ever even found the wreckage.” He exhaled, swallowed, and Hank could almost see angry red sparks jumping over his skin. He pushed past Hank and stepped up to the ladder and open door. “I guess I’d better get over it, huh? Not gonna be much use to you guys if I can’t even get to the fight.”
Hank sees patterns in the calculus of other people, in the math of life, and that’s why he was so surprised that a plasma-slinging ex-con mutant who’d been something of a bully since the day they met, could so consistently surprise him. And he was even more surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Even this confession, the unforgotten tragedy, made something churn, warm and aching in the pit of his belly. Suddenly he was the one who couldn’t meet Alex’s eyes.
They flew in silence. Eventually, Alex even loosened his white-knuckle grip on the arm rests and peered out the window at the landscape disappearing below them. The bird was perfect, cruising over trees and fields and houses until the whole world fell away. She was everything he’d designed her to be, but somehow, that didn’t even seem to matter anymore.
~
Okay. That's what I got. Gonna see if Terra Nova is available OnDemand.
