greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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Are we there yet?

I didn't think so, but it never hurts to ask. Wait, yes it does. It often hurts to ask.

Um...

So, we're still at Code Yellow. Yesterday, I wrote a rather surprising 1,357 words on "Romeo and Juliet Go to Mars," and there was some brief debate about standing down to Code Green. But I have no idea if what I wrote yesterday will lead to another thousand or so words today, or if it was any good, or whatever...so we're holding at Yellow.

More good comments yesterday. I thought this one from sovay hit the proverbial nail on its proverbial head:

For me, it all keeps coming down to entitlement—to be allowed glimpses of someone's life is to be invited to participate in it is to be authorized to change it, and heaven forfend if you do not wish your life to be changed. You asked me in, didn't you? We're all the same sort of people.

I don't think it's anything new; expectations of privacy have been eroding for years. But the internet promotes the illusion of intimacy where nothing more than the exchange of pixels exists, and it seems to be felt by many of its—practitioners?—as a compulsion rather than a choice. I mean, we are not all the same sort of people, but we're all supposed to be...


Yes. Nail. Head of Nail. All of that. But something else. The arrogance required of someone to believe that hesheit has the ability to change my life, or even my mood, via the goddamn internet. Oh, it could happen. An email from my agent informing me that The Red Tree was just optioned for a fat six figures by [insert dream director here], and I can stop writing and spend the next ten years on the next novel...that would definitely change my mood. But when I post " I would love to write a story or novel and not think, every single day I work on it, 'If I kill myself, I won't have to finish this.' Just once..." to Facebook, and twenty people reply with assorted "Oh, buck up, little buckaroo" nonsense...no. That only makes it worse. Though, I suppose, by making it worse, those people have changed my life.

That's fucking brilliant!

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Last night, we watched Underworld: Rise of the Lycans (2009). And at least it was better than the second Underworld film. I mean, I didn't nod off, as I did during Underworld: Evolution (2006). It didn't put me to sleep. That's a compliment, right? Also, I watched it in the comfort of my own home, and didn't have to pay to see it, and those things probably also prejudiced me in its favor.

By the way, if you're interested in Spooky's Halloween figurines, be warned that they are only available through Halloween. Come November 1st, everything Halloween will be removed from her Etsy shop until next October. So, consider yourselves notified.
Tags: comments, mars, spooky's dolls, the internet, writing
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