deelaundry: (Default)
"I woke up gay" is a standard trope I've always dismissed as unbelievable. But this morning when I woke up, I found my life view had changed just as abruptly.

My thought was this: The anus, when you think about it, is really, really gross. Unattractive, usually surrounded by hair, and oh yeah, feces comes out of there. Bacteria-filled garbage that the body is rejecting. So who in their right mind would want to put their fingers, genitalia, or--dear Lord--their tongue near the anus? Doesn't make sense, not sexy, and I can't believe I've been reading about it for so long.

And these characters that I've obsessed over, they're jerks. Why didn't I see this before? Well, House and McKay are meant to be jerks, that's the basis of their characters, but Wilson's a jerk, too. And Sheppard! Sure he's outwardly charming, but he won't talk about his feelings, he has a clear commitment problem, and he kills people without remorse. Jerk.

This negativity is what's been bringing me down for the past two years, and I say, no more. I'm going to turn my mind to things that are positive, caring, and uplifting. With that, I bring you this poem:

Water Triumphantly Flowing )
deelaundry: (chair)
Let us climb into the wayback machine, all the way to 1989, when a young Dee wrote this original short story.

"The Way It Went"
(2921 words; warning for language and drug use)

deelaundry: (Default)

Typing up an old original fic to show Sauty, and in another fic, I came across this passage that seemed especially relevant to my life just now.  Writing about writing is such a damn cliche, but that's what this story was.  The narrator of the story just wrote a few-hundred word passage about "Amanda," and then she says:

And then what?   And then what happened?  Oh, shit I've lost it.  Shit.

I think that was a dream sequence, diary.  I don't really know.  I'd have to ask Amanda.  But I can't because that short bit is all I know of her.  I'm trying to call her up again, to find out what the playground is:  reality, dream, metaphor, to make her tell me what happened to that little boy, but it's impossible.  Amanda is gone forever, another character about whom I could write no more than a page.

I got a million of 'em, baby, and it bothers me.  I should be able to control these people that I make up in my head, but I can't.  They appear of their own free will and leave me when it suits them best.  The only constant is me.

deelaundry: (wilson pretty)
Blah-blah-blah, what is WRONG with me?  I now have five half-finished "front burner" fics, and all my brain keeps throwing me is scenes for a new TV series that revolves around outgoing and ruggedly handsome Paul, the co-owner of a successful fashion design company in New York.  (Yes, I know nothing about fashion, and it's only an excuse to have lots of pretty girls and boys standing around, but SHUT UP, I'm getting to the good part.)

Paul's co-owner is Charlie, a quieter, more bookish type played by RSL wearing his MF sexy glasses.  (TPTB buy him new ones, so they're not chipped.)  Paul and Charlie are also close friends, although a bit on the confrontational, arguing side.  We find out in episode three some of the reason behind this:

Sheryl:  Hey, Charlie.  Therese is going out on her first date with Paul tonight and she's feeling nervous about it.  I thought maybe you could give her some pointers, you know, share some of your moves.
Charlie:  My moves?  I have exactly three moves, she doesn't have the anatomy for any of them, and Paul would recognize them as mine, anyway, which would no doubt kill the mood.  *looking at Therese*  You're blond, you're gorgeous, and you have breasts.  With Paul, that's all the moves you'll need.
Therese:  Wait.  You and Paul?
Charlie:  Yeah.  Nothing to worry about, though.  We broke up four years ago; we're just friends now.  Water under the bridge.
Therese:  I didn't think -
Charlie:  Nobody does.  And they're mostly right, because he's mostly straight.
Therese:  Were you two together long?
Charlie:  No.  Not at all.  Ten years.
Therese:  That seems like a long time to me.
Charlie:  *to Sheryl*  Well, I guess it would, considering it's half her lifetime.
Sheryl:  Shush.
Therese:  Why did the two of you break up?
Charlie:  We had different life goals.  I wanted to get a house with a yard, and a dog, and look into adopting a kid or two.  Paul wanted to date blonde supermodels.

In a later episode, Paul yells at Charlie for telling people that Paul's shallow.
Paul:  How do you not get this, after all this time?  The life I want to lead is just as valid as the one you want.
Charlie:  You're not Jack Nicholson.  The playboy bit's going to get pathetic after a while.
Paul:  That's not it!  It's not about dating lots of people; it's not about sleeping around.  It's about being able to go to the goddamn movies when I feel like it.  It's about being able to stay up until three and sleep until noon, or go away for the weekend on a whim, or immerse myself completely in a new hobby.  You want to have dinner at five, and wipe noses, and put bandaids on boo-boos, and I just don't, Charlie.

Will true love conquer all?  I don't know; I don't know.


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Dee Laundry

July 2017



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