November 30th, 2006

bear by san

'Oooh, Master Yew,' she croodled, 'don't you dare.'

Oh, I know you've been waiting for the annual celebration and dissection!

via buymeaclue, this year's Guardian bad-sex-in-fiction list is out!

The Guardian.

The extracts.

It's nice to have thematic union in my blog.

ETA: Actually, I sort of like this. It's, er, vividly observed....

Now he moved up and down, Man-from Atlantisly. His silver chain jiggled on his neck.

Now her grubby soles met like they were praying.

Now his skin was glazed in roast pork sweat.

Now she made a noise like a tortured Moomintroll.

problem cat

I'm engaged in the catlike process of outwaiting my muse.

She's giving me come-hither looks, but every time I walk over there, she won't actually put out. Fortunately, I'm in good shape deadline-wise, and I have this absolute mess of music on my hard drive that desperately needs to be tidied up and made sense of. I had music in three different directories on two different drives, and I was having a heck of a time finding anything.

So I've spent the day labeling and sorting, the kind of mindless but absorbing work that seems to let my brain unhinge and get cracking on things, subconsciously. It gave me the first line for Dust today, but I'm pretending I didn't notice, and anyway I'm waiting for it to get itchy enough to finish Lumiere.

You know, I am finding all kinds of stuff in here I forgot I had.

(This is where I cop to owning a Dan Fogelberg greatest hits album, isn't it?)