crows: (Default)
[9:15:57 PM] Van Gleven: but
[9:16:01 PM] Van Gleven: you could write scripts
[9:16:33 PM] Marawg: I could write your mom
[9:16:39 PM] Van Gleven: hahahaha
[9:16:46 PM] Marawg: no seriously. I'm sure she likes letters.
[9:16:55 PM] Van Gleven: I hate you
crows: (alan)
The monster is so close. Close enough that all day, post the very early anxiety-attack morning, I've wondered off and on whether it might be worth trying to get in with a therapist.

Ha, ha.

With what money? With what trust?

I feel awful. When my head was racing last night I thought I had a lot of things to say about it, that maybe writing them would help. Maybe writing anything would help (isn't that a thing we used to do?) but all my thoughts are falling apart like wet paper.
crows: (Default)
Put yourself into good company. Eat a good meal and watch some familiar, humorous television. Go home. Muse about stories, about music; share a little art. Sleep, after that, but not too much. A little less than five hours, that's the outside end. The most you get to have at one unbroken stretch. Then:

Decamp to a house somewhere up in nameless mountains, rambling property past the wend of a few gravel roads into the foothills, past some miles and maybe a generation or two of bad history. Know that things are getting ugly out there, that you're getting away from the city or the town or home because you'll be safer. Don't know much more than that. At least, don't know when you wake up. Go for a while like that. Preparing, maybe. Trying to keep tabs. Mainly just waiting. Talk to them on the telephone, at some point, and then lose them (to anger? to a failing of technology?). Be unable to get through. Repeatedly, after that. Worry, vaguely, but tell yourself that things are probably alright. It's not that strange to not be able to call somebody for a while. They'll get through eventually.

Stand in the windows after the impetus of some announcement, all the news fragmented at least to your waking memory, most of the knowledge preternatural, an unspoken understanding wafting in from outside. Look out to sea, out over the flat of land rambling away from the mountains. See an unreasonable distance, out to ships on the distant water, out to the pole, maybe forever around the curve of the ocean's belly. Watch the bright orange streak launch across the sky. Have time to process little more than the words when one of the people you are staying with in this house explains that it is the bomb. The Bomb. He had a name for it, but lose that when you wake. Stare in stunned silence as it hits, somewhere far away, and turns the sky molten nonetheless. Watch as it sends up a wave high enough to rush up into the town where you'd been living, into the streets. Frantically close windows as though they will protect you from a shockwave. Experience none, directly, but know that from here, things will not get better. Begin filling the milk jugs and tubs you've been collecting and rinsing with water. Realize you never heard from them. Realize you are never going to hear their voice again.

Wake, digesting this realization. Wake to the alarm of the cat jumping onto the bookshelves at the foot of the bed and staring at the window, at a sound. Wake up and turn the light on, wake up and shake yourself into the familiar, into the understanding that there's just a raccoon in the pine tree, that the world has not ended, that you do not live by the sea.
crows: (caw)
(11:03:06 AM) tseiffer: Marie
(11:03:12 AM) tseiffer: I want to study anthropologists
(11:03:28 AM) tseiffer: And be an anthropologologist.
(11:03:45 AM) tseiffer: That's a delicious word.


Apr. 7th, 2013 07:10 am
crows: (Default)
Getting up.

Boiling eggs
Doing dishes
Cleaning catboxes

Pick up clothes
Make coffee
Take out trash
Do laundry

Put all the laundry away

That's phase one for the day which I aim to have accomplished by the time Thief is up so that we can focus on the comic launch once they are.

Doin it :|

Day Four.

Mar. 28th, 2013 07:48 pm
crows: (red)
The downstairs neighbor (or rather, her belligerent douchebag boyfriend) was at it again last night, cranking the music up with as far as I can tell the specific intent of pissing her and the rest of the house off. They've gotten at least one disorderly house fine, several visits from the police on noise complaints, and a sternly worded letter from the landlady and on more than one occasion we've heard him turning the noise up and her turning it back down and them fighting about it. He knows he's getting her evicted.

Upshot being I didn't sleep much, not nearly enough to recover fully from yesterday and go in to work at 515. Work was... pretty god damn busy, and I've been feeling dimly nauseous and fairly foggy most of the day. So I came home and washed my tattoo and laid on the couch in my piejams and watched stupid television for the afternoon and now Delia is making supper.

My feet didn't hurt much at/after work. I've worked slightly fewer hours this week but not a lot, and have gone comparably pain free. This seems to be a marked improvement. And despite feeling sort of tired and crapped out physically in other ways (I think feeling a little bit drained after the ink experience is reasonable, especially given that I didn't have a good opportunity to sleep it off), my mood isn't suffering a lot. I mean, I didn't want to be at work, but I don't normally want to be at work at the end of the week when I've only slept a few hours. So all in all, not miserable, not dipping into too much anxiety (Kris the tattoo lady said she's been taking B vits as of recently as well and they're helping her anxiety a lot), and feeling like I'll be able to get things done and enjoy myself throughout my next couple of lighter days (and Sunday off - off of everything, even choir).

Also, I had violently apocalyptic dreams last night. Not nightmares... definitely frightening but fear wasn't the central part of the dream and I didn't wake up upset. Only had fragments when I came out, but committed what I could to memory. It was all very bright... very sunny (outside), very clay colored. Terra cotta and dust. People were dying of... something. I don't know if it was plague, or what, but they were rotting away, like some combination of sepsis and gangrene. Not in a zombie way, though... everyone was still aware. Spitting up green, blotched and soft, bloating like corpses. I was in a house full of survivors (some of us were survivors longer than others). Boarded up, chaos on the outside, don't really know what was going on. When I left... I was alone. But I don't think I was the last person alive in the house, maybe we just all split up at that point. I don't feel like I knew much about any of those people. Anyway, I found my way toward people who had lived through at least that wave of whatever was happening. There was some kind of semi-organized gathering place, a cafeteria or meeting hall or something, and I was befriended by two Indian people (a man and a woman; siblings or good friends). We decided to stick together... I have a dim sense of there being some kind of authority, sort of. A presence trying, if sternly, to keep us safe, and a threat from the outside but I don't know if it was the sickness or something more sentiently malicious or what. I kept trying to convince them to go back to my house so I could get some of my things (cell phones still seemed to be working, and I wanted mine, and my ipod, and a couple of other things). I'm unclear now whether my house was where I'd been with all the dying people or not. I also feel like I had some other reason for wanting to go back that I was hesitant to tell them, but I don't remember what it was.

Day Three.

Mar. 27th, 2013 09:10 pm
crows: (Default)
Worked a short shift. Very busy, cranky at business, but nothing stuck. Lots of nerves and good anticipation of tattoo. Walked in feeling very positive about my lines (, spent maybe an hour and a half on the table? Much less intense in the pain department than I was potentially braced for. Left feeling FLUSHED WITH AMAZING and went to knit nite at the vegetarian cafe I'd never been to in town. Had a great meal with friends that I haven't spent much time with in a while; trend of awesomeness continued.

Today was beautiful, sunny, no wind, mid forties (I walked down to the tattoo place and then knitting was around the corner; Codi drove me home though). So basically, all of the ingredients today were excellent. From an internal standpoint, though, I do feel like I had better access to the excellence than I have in recent months... it's not as if fun things haven't happened, or that I haven't enjoyed them, but my energy has been so low that it hasn't been without a certain sense of strain. I get tired, my mood flags, badly. As of right now, I've had a very full day, and I'm tired... but it's winding-down-toward-bed tired, end of the day tired. Not the kind of existential exhaustion that leaves me wondering if I'm going to have anything to give tomorrow and doubting it, but knowing I have to figure out a way to cough it up anyway. I haven't ended a day like that so far. I really think the vitamins are making a big difference. I've taken a multi before, especially when I was still on oral birth control, and never felt a palpable change of any kind.

Very much looking forward to more productive time off this weekend.

Day Two.

Mar. 26th, 2013 09:54 pm
crows: (flying raven)
Good energy most of the day (afternoon was very long, quite busy, but once I was out of work I was okay). Didn't start the day in pain, didn't end the day in as much pain as I've sometimes been in after a 9.5hr shift. It's only Tuesday, but I'm optimistic. Ate supper at a reasonable hour. Not miserable tonight, despite the fact that TBND just started up. Good. God.

I realize that moving out west is probably just going to trade these for some other noisy fucking neighbors but this band is so bad, and I've been putting up with them for two fucking years I mean honestly.

Tattoo tomorrow (nervous). Taxes Thursday.
crows: (black raven)
Day one of week. Foot and brain feel fairly okay on returning home from 9.5hrs. Started using the toe things last Thursday, started taking the B vitamins yesterday. The daily granoly bars started on Friday. Also had a big salad today at work (mostly spinach) but still famished because forgot to eat most of yesterday until Delia offered me supper.

Settling in with a big glass of juicefizz and the granoly and the toe things for some quiet time after work.

eta: I didn't hit the frustrated angry exhaustion until a little later (closer to actual sleep time) than usual, which was partially due to putting off eating too long.
crows: (caw)
(9:49:13 PM) tseiffer: Just full of bullshit quotes and Brandon Lee shooting people
crows: (caw)
(9:37:07 PM) jesusmcmurphy: I always have socks on.
(9:37:23 PM) jesusmcmurphy: More often than not, they're the only things I'm wearing.
crows: (caw)
(11:08:08 PM) Thief: people like outrage and popcorn.
crows: (Default)
I dreamed of the black house last night, in what little sleep I got. There's not much left, after waking up. There was farmland... huge rambling old mansions (that were not the House), a wealthy and handsome older land and business owner with predilections and a family. I... minded, or tutored, his children periodically and I'm fairly sure he meant to kill me. Our peace was thinly veiled, we kept one another close for spying. I think we both knew, and both knew we knew the other.

Then there was my house, the decaying Victorian that I live in now, in an apartment cut from a few of its original rooms. The tiny sink in my washroom was backed up (not uncommon, in real life). Every time the toilet ran (often, it doesn't seal well), water came shooting out of the drain, except then it became smoke, then motes of dust, then whirling clumps of feathers that turned over and over in the air and wouldn't settle. When I took the plunger to the sink to clear up the block, blood came up into the bowl from the pipes underneath.

On Food:

Mar. 12th, 2013 10:01 pm
crows: (caw)
(9:56:58 PM) jesusmcmurphy: There truly is no graceful way to eat lasagna.
(10:00:42 PM) jesusmcmurphy: Especially with a mustache.
crows: (red)

First, this is happening. I've babbled a little here over the last year about the comic project I'm undertaking with co- author and illustrator, [personal profile] thiefofvoices. It's been some time in development, but we have the site up and an official launch date now for when pages will start going up. We'll be updating once weekly. I'm really, really excited about this.
April 7 2013

Second, after finding a late-night text from Thief that Psyclon Nine was going to be playing in SF in May, I came to the snap decision to buy myself a ticket out there as a present-to-myself for my also-in-May birthday, so I'm looking forward to that for a plethora of reasons. Not least of which is P9. But not most of which either ;) (sorry, Nero).

Till then I'm mainly just hanging on. Working 6 8-10 hour days per week is kind of a drag, and while I can put up with the physical exhaustion okay, the difficult part is the frustration about finding ways to tuck non-work things that are important to me into the cracks. I'm managing okay, though. Hey. The comic is going up in a month and I have three submissions out. And I got to spend last Sunday out in the countryside hunting for jank, which is always good for the spirit.

On Mars:

Mar. 4th, 2013 09:16 pm
crows: (caw)
(9:15:38 PM) tseiffer: Yes. Mars, Marie... It's like earth, but in space.
crows: (caw)
(6:28:27 PM) Adam Pruitt: Have baking fun times last night during my medically induced comma? :-)
(6:28:49 PM) Marie: They can medically induce a comma?!
(6:28:55 PM) Marie: ...god I know so many people who need that procedure!
(6:30:17 PM) Adam Pruitt: Some of us, however, tend to over indulge, so that, the pauses, become, too much!


Feb. 24th, 2013 09:07 am
crows: (black raven)
So, this weekend has been tough. I'm still trying to balance the exhaustion of working 6 8-10 hour days per week. The bookshop, my last two days, is a good wind-down and doesn't require me to be on my feet quite as much but it still doesn't leave much time for me to take care of myself. Friday night descended into awful, into some hard but necessary conversations with one of the people I'm in love with, a lot of anxiety. Topped off by the neighbor downstairs cranking the music up at 2AM, right as I was getting myself close to wound down enough to get some sleep. Less than four hours later, I woke up, still in the thick of the migraine I'd cried myself into the night before.

I got up, cleaned up, got ready for work, messaged my boss that I wasn't feeling well and was going to be a little bit late but was determined to go in anyway. Trying to make something to eat to put down with the 800mg of ibuprofen I'd just swallowed was interrupted by several intervals of just having to stand still and cringe. Walking out of the house into the bright sunlight off the fresh snow almost made me throw up. I went back inside, called in to work, pounded on the neighbor's door so hard I hurt my hand, yelled at her about the music (which was still going on, loud enough to vibrate my floor upstairs), got cussed at by her boyfriend inside, went upstairs and spent 2 hours in the fetal position under my covers, about half of which sobbing hysterically cause I hurt so much.

When I came out of that, I emailed my-aunt-the-landlady about the downstairs neighbor issue (I've hinted lately that I haven't been talking to my family, so I've been resistant to call them about house-related issues - it's a major point of anxiety for me). She replied quickly and quite kindly, and is going to look into doing something about my neighbor to make sure this stops. I don't know how promptly that will occur but at least someone else knows about it other than Delia and I. I then commenced to completely lose yesterday, cause moving around a lot made me too nauseous to do much even inside the house and my brain was too gelatinous to address any of my intellectual needs of the moment.

ALSO Friday night, coming at the worst possible time, the decline on two stories that were approaching the end of the reading period for where I'd submitted them. I had rather foolishly allowed myself to be a bit hopeful about them since I felt like they'd been kept for a little bit, and they turned up right in the middle of that tense time I mentioned earlier talking with my SO, where I'd already felt a little broken open and pretty vulnerable and just... not well.

Updating my submission spreadsheet made me realize I received those rejections on the 3 year anniversary of starting to submit work at all. Nothing's been printed. Which basically started off the resounding chorus of you're not good enough and you're not working hard enough in my head, which I've been trying to quiet down since then. Today is a little better. I was still woken up at 4AM by music downstairs (called the police; this isn't the first time and I'm not the only person who's called).

What I did have my head on straight enough to do Friday night when I was still miserable and couldn't stop crying is send out everything again. Both the stories I got back plus a flash fiction piece that I've sent out before but hadn't had out recently, but still really like. I also spent some more time reading about other markets and picked out the next ones for the two longer pieces if they come back to me again. I don't have enough time in my current existence to let things grid me to a complete halt if I can avoid it. So no matter how worthless I've felt about my work the last couple of days, uh... other people have it to read and I think that's what matters at the moment.

Rewind a bit. Thursday I took my kitchen back from the entropy gods. The inertia of stress from the last several months, which I've touched on here, and my own struggle against the weight of life inside my brain has meant it had fallen into a place where I basically couldn't use it. It's not totally put back together, but I can at least cook at home again, and have a responsible amount of groceries with which to do so. I even bought coffee and treated myself to a brand new pour-over cone (it's red!). I haven't owned one of those for a while, and while I like my press, I'm more likely to use the pour-over/keep it clean.

Today, I think I'm excusing myself from more cleaning in order to focus on creative work. I'd like to have some more short pieces that are ready to go out. I haven't been focusing at all on short work lately, most of my energy has gone to the One for Silence and Dark Energy, which is fine, because I'm liking the work I've done on those, slow though it has been. But still. Theoretically, publication credits will eventually serve those projects, too. So today I'm going to go through the fragments and the old pieces and see what is waiting to be finished/rewritten/revised.

I also want to do some work on the comic, because that is a very good project (co- authoring and illustrating with [personal profile] thiefofvoices) that is moving forward.

I also need to sing. I have the music for the piece I'll be singing solo at my choir's fundraiser in a week (from yesterday >.>) but I haven't sat down with it yet. So, uh, better get on that, so tonight I can arrange some practice time with the gentleman who will be accompanying me.

So that's that! Fuck you depression and harpy-chorus of misery. I've got shit to do.
crows: (Default)
(5:26:38 PM) tseiffer: You might think that Erasure only caters to people in America
(5:26:40 PM) tseiffer: in the 90s
(5:26:50 PM) tseiffer: on ecstasy
(5:26:54 PM) tseiffer: Well, you'd be wrong
(5:27:02 PM) tseiffer: It just so happens, they also cater to a French audience
crows: (caw)
(5:44:33 PM) Marie: I think I'd be a bad pope.
(5:44:56 PM) Marie: very full of wrath and not much forgiveness
(5:45:08 PM) Marie: Pope Cranky I

(5:46:55 PM) Marie: If I were pope I think my official blessing would be 'go to hell'
(5:47:46 PM) Adam: Mine would be 'How you doin' ?'

(5:49:00 PM) Adam: I'd also reinstate indulgences and out source some countries
(5:51:36 PM) Adam: I'd also make Ewan McGregor my camerlengo
(5:52:14 PM) Marie: they call him carmerlengoooo
(5:52:25 PM) Marie: Honestly most of what I know about the pope I learned from [Angels & Demons, the movie]
(5:52:38 PM) Marie: Emma made me watch it. That means it's legit, right?
(5:52:47 PM) Adam: Completely


crows: (Default)

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