The wraiths of limbo
Dec. 29th, 2004 07:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraWe raised three hundred bucks yesterday. And very few people even noticed that their purchases of Anal Angst and Colon Blow were going to a Worthy Humanitarian Cause. There was one Indian family, heavily Americanized… The man saw the sign – All Proceeds Till 12/31 Go To OXFAM for Tsunami Relief – and tears came to his eyes. "That's a great kindness," he said, and I thought right, but it'll set the rent check back a couple of days. This is the great Catch 22 of Philanthropy – them that care about material things are much too shrewd for the gallant gesture unless the tax advantages outweigh the donation, and them that don't are lousy businessmen.
Personally, I can't wait for the next Very Special Episode of ER: Lake Michigan, the Tsunami! And I wonder what the tsunami means for the Survivor franchise?
President Bush continues to enjoy his Christian holiday on the ranch. He has pledged thirty-five million in aid which is slightly less than the amount pledged towards his upcoming coronation – whoops, I mean inauguration – and considerably less that the 1 billion bucks every three days America is spending to bring freedom to the Iraqis. I forget – are we winning that war or losing it? I think President Bush plans to videoconference with the world today to express condolences to all leaders everywhere of small brown people.
In other news, I began reworking the beginning of one of the many novels-in-progress that litter my hard drive. Mallory's Camera, the novel for which this LJ was named. First chapter only works if the assassin has been under Iris's nose all the time – ye olde Agatha Christie trick – so I wrote in a throw-away scene with a profiler which hopefully the reader will forget by the end of the chapter. Reworking old novels, of course, is my way of avoiding all the work I should be doing – end-of-the-year financials for the store and the last slurry of financial aid applications for Max's college admissions process.
Also yesterday I drove up to Santa Cruz where I'd hoped to interview for a job as the Santa Cruz Beach & Boardwalk's publicist. We are not going to survive the winter if I can't come up with an alternate income source to pay the family bills, and the only real talent I have is some small facility with words. Alas! the interviewer had mixed up her times; I will have to go back today. The Boardwalk was actually open – in the pouring rain! A few miserable people were riding the famous rollercoaster. Then I wandered back into the arcade. Arcades are creepy places, particularly on a cold, gray day. The lighting is evil, the gamers all have a furious expression around their eyes and mouths like wraiths in limbo as if one small part of their brain keeps telling them you're dead, you're dead, a message that can be kept at bay with only the most frenetic lever activity.
Personally, I can't wait for the next Very Special Episode of ER: Lake Michigan, the Tsunami! And I wonder what the tsunami means for the Survivor franchise?
President Bush continues to enjoy his Christian holiday on the ranch. He has pledged thirty-five million in aid which is slightly less than the amount pledged towards his upcoming coronation – whoops, I mean inauguration – and considerably less that the 1 billion bucks every three days America is spending to bring freedom to the Iraqis. I forget – are we winning that war or losing it? I think President Bush plans to videoconference with the world today to express condolences to all leaders everywhere of small brown people.
In other news, I began reworking the beginning of one of the many novels-in-progress that litter my hard drive. Mallory's Camera, the novel for which this LJ was named. First chapter only works if the assassin has been under Iris's nose all the time – ye olde Agatha Christie trick – so I wrote in a throw-away scene with a profiler which hopefully the reader will forget by the end of the chapter. Reworking old novels, of course, is my way of avoiding all the work I should be doing – end-of-the-year financials for the store and the last slurry of financial aid applications for Max's college admissions process.
Also yesterday I drove up to Santa Cruz where I'd hoped to interview for a job as the Santa Cruz Beach & Boardwalk's publicist. We are not going to survive the winter if I can't come up with an alternate income source to pay the family bills, and the only real talent I have is some small facility with words. Alas! the interviewer had mixed up her times; I will have to go back today. The Boardwalk was actually open – in the pouring rain! A few miserable people were riding the famous rollercoaster. Then I wandered back into the arcade. Arcades are creepy places, particularly on a cold, gray day. The lighting is evil, the gamers all have a furious expression around their eyes and mouths like wraiths in limbo as if one small part of their brain keeps telling them you're dead, you're dead, a message that can be kept at bay with only the most frenetic lever activity.
