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No, really.
And this is the most disturbing thing I've ever written.
And... wait. Something's missing.
*seeks notebook*
*finds notebook*
*opens to notes for elljay entry*
Every month, my chosen chain of bookshops sends me a short publication with information on upcoming releases. Well... two of them, actually. Every month. I think they're posted by men wearing blue gloves.
Today, I'm back to observations about buses. Today, there are two. One is about disreputable men, and the other is about graffiti. Neither is terribly sensible, but I hope at least one might be fun. So! Let's start with the disreputable man.
He's entirely typical, so far as disreputable men go. He smells bad, rarely washes, can barely dress himself and manages to put his two feet up on no less than three seats at a time, by way of some kind of incredible feat that would doubtless interest theoretical physicists.
And what is it that makes him interesting? Nothing at all. Though apparently I'm interesting to him.
Next, the graffiti. There seems to be a new movement in bus-graffiti here, at the moment - drawing glasses and goatees on pictures of people in ads with a pen. I shall call this 'neoclassical graffiti', and give you all a moment to ponder a kind of public defacement art scholar.
...
Moment's done. My musings led to an entire university that would be a skate park, where the engineering department gathers on an old timber bench that's been tagged into oblivion, discussing the relative merits of various combinations of wheels and bendy plywood. Or the law faculty, which deals with where, when and how punch-ups are to be properly held and resolved in order to decide who's right about any given subject. Or the geology department, which studies exactly how gravel forms and which forms of gravel result in worse gravel-rash.
I wish my imagination had an 'off' switch.
In an end to my semirandom scribble for today, I'd like to alert people to the existence of a 39-disc seven-season Buffy: the Vampire Slayer box set for a mere $290.
A BOX WITH THIRTY-NINE DVDs OF BUFFY.
ijhnrv.kjbnjkasb nk.
And... that's it. Mind your step while the universe unmakes itself.
OMGWTFBtVS!
And this is the most disturbing thing I've ever written.
And... wait. Something's missing.
*seeks notebook*
*finds notebook*
*opens to notes for elljay entry*
Every month, my chosen chain of bookshops sends me a short publication with information on upcoming releases. Well... two of them, actually. Every month. I think they're posted by men wearing blue gloves.
Today, I'm back to observations about buses. Today, there are two. One is about disreputable men, and the other is about graffiti. Neither is terribly sensible, but I hope at least one might be fun. So! Let's start with the disreputable man.
He's entirely typical, so far as disreputable men go. He smells bad, rarely washes, can barely dress himself and manages to put his two feet up on no less than three seats at a time, by way of some kind of incredible feat that would doubtless interest theoretical physicists.
And what is it that makes him interesting? Nothing at all. Though apparently I'm interesting to him.
DearDisreputable Men,
I'm NOT interested in you. There are three reasons for this.
The first, and most obvious, is that you are men.
The second is that you are disreputable.
The third is that my nose has standards.
Sincerely not yours,active_apathy
Next, the graffiti. There seems to be a new movement in bus-graffiti here, at the moment - drawing glasses and goatees on pictures of people in ads with a pen. I shall call this 'neoclassical graffiti', and give you all a moment to ponder a kind of public defacement art scholar.
...
Moment's done. My musings led to an entire university that would be a skate park, where the engineering department gathers on an old timber bench that's been tagged into oblivion, discussing the relative merits of various combinations of wheels and bendy plywood. Or the law faculty, which deals with where, when and how punch-ups are to be properly held and resolved in order to decide who's right about any given subject. Or the geology department, which studies exactly how gravel forms and which forms of gravel result in worse gravel-rash.
I wish my imagination had an 'off' switch.
In an end to my semirandom scribble for today, I'd like to alert people to the existence of a 39-disc seven-season Buffy: the Vampire Slayer box set for a mere $290.
A BOX WITH THIRTY-NINE DVDs OF BUFFY.
ijhnrv.kjbnjkasb nk.
And... that's it. Mind your step while the universe unmakes itself.
OMGWTFBtVS!
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-17 05:04 am (UTC)And my sympathies as regards the disreputable men. I had two of them (drunk, no less) lurking about the lobby last night.
As a completely random note (well, not completely random, actually, it's inspired by my icon, because I was going to offer you a turtle for luck, because that's just a nice thing to do), I really think you should read "The Dark Tower" series. It's by Stephen King, and if you like Garth Nix (and I get the feeling you do) you will LOVE The Dark Tower.
My, there was a lot of parenthetical content in that comment...
no subject
Date: 2006-01-17 05:08 am (UTC)Yay! Turtle!
And new books to look into. I have The Amulet of Samarkand waiting to be read, and a copy of The Golem's Eye lurking in my room. I'd have Ptolemy's Gate but it's a different size so I want to wait until it's as tall as the other two so they don't look funny on the shelf.
...
That was an awkward sentence.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-17 05:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-17 05:20 am (UTC)