it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

  • Mood:
  • Music:

i know that you're sorry. i know you've been drunk all week.

I also know you will never find a wife.
Someone who could love someone so hard.
And you're hard.


--Jann Arden, "I Know You"

Okay, this is a good line:

The world is a wheel, and we are all broken on it.

I wonder if I swiped that from someone, or if it's mine. Especially apropos since their world is a wheel. Or a great latticework spiderweb, anyway.

Page 240, and still doing minor patching up and line of direction work--and going back and putting stuff in the first couple of chapters, because I tend to have things in my head and never get them on the page. Like, frex, that Alasdair Conn is something like five centuries old at the beginning of the book.

I have decided to keep the enormous and unwieldy Conn family intact, though I was thinking of pruning the tree somewhat, because I've remembered I have two more books, and I need some of them.

Today, after I hit my quota--and it's still just reading and fiddling, at this point. The hard work will all be at the end. So I expect I will get to page 300 before too late--I will shower and do my math homework and start the laundry. And then I will hike down to the Shaw's and get the stuff for cinnamon popcorn, because otherwise I may go mad from the smell of my hair. Anyway, it's sunny out, and it's a two-mile walk, and I need the exercise. And there are people coming over tonight, and if that's not a good excuse for cinnamon popcorn, I dunno what is.

Then I might sit down and write my storytellersunplugged.com essay, which is not due until the 7th, but I had an idea last night while I was drifting off to sleep.

More about writing traumatized characters, of course. I blame some things that have been discussed on my flist and with my meat friends recently, and that Tom Waits song I got so very stuck in my head again.

You can never go back.
And the answer is no.
And wishing for it only makes it bleed.

You can never go back. All trying to go back does is makes it impossible to go forwards.

And you have got to go forwards.


Cinnamon Popcorn: *

8 quarts popcorn
1 cup margarine
1/2 cup light corn syrup
1 package red hots, or you can use fireballs but they take forever to melt, I am told. I dunno if I would risk cinnamon Altoids.
 
Pop the popcorn. Do it the right way, in a heavy-bottomed pan with a little corn oil. You will thank me later.

In a saucepan, combine the margarine, corn syrup and cinnamon candies. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly, and maintain at a boil for 5 minutes.

Pour over the popped popcorn and mix well. Pour the popcorn mixture onto greased cookie sheets. Bake at 250 degrees F for about 1 hour. Stir it once in a while.

Cool completely, then break into pieces.

It says here, store in an airtight container, but really, figure the odds that that's going to happen.
 
(*not for rednikki, alas. or stwish. life is hard.)
Tags: bork! bork! bork!, close the wall up with our english dead, jacob's ladder
Subscribe

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 20 comments