verbing, they finally verbed.
Jul. 14th, 2005 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabI pruned my friends' list viciously, as part of a perpetual daily escalating series of self-dares (next I'll be telling you I married a super-thin bitch with huge gams who buys and sells seals) designed to get my ass back on the internet, back into fandom, back writing again. As currency, I offer some verbs I'd promised in the year of our lord ought-four, or maybe early ought-five. As I ease back online, you can be sure I'll expand my friends' list again, but for now I'm feeling overwhelmed; isolated and scared. And until Karl Rove resigns or Bush fires him I'm still working eleven hour days; until we get a new Supreme Court Justice or at least until Rehnquist makes up his addled mind, I'm all scared and alone and Democratic and busy and my LEG HURTS. But they say writing soothes the savage breast. Mmm.
Several Hundred Lines About Women in General. Verbing, They Verbed. Installment One:
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bexxa
Ivanova, Primping
She looks in the mirror and thinks, fuck, man, I am dangerously beautiful. No, really, it's ridiculous, what an unbelievable waste. Her lipstick's the color of blood and it tastes like cake.
She feels good; clean. Her hair is clean, her fingernails. Her crow's feet aren't so bad in this light. She thinks of the steps between here and C&C and she wishes she could work from home. She thinks of the men.
There's always someone on the lift – she hasn't LOST the other earring, there IS no other earring, but thanks very much all the same – who licks his lip and leaves a beady little froth of spit. She stands close to the door and never lets her ass unclench.
In bull sessions every girl proclaimed herself a childhood tomboy; they've all got tales of tree-climbing and scraped knees and blowing shit up. Later, in college, one would emerge half-abashed as a math whiz; another spent her summers nose deep in Chaucer. Lay 'em end to end and not a single beauty queen. End to end they were proud as hell of it. Susan laid 'em end to end; Susan spent her summers nose deep in Natasha Mintz's snatch; Susan's eyes are way too big, and way too blue. She's got breeding hips.
Jubilee Rayburgh is the new lieutenant on pitch and yaw, six feet tall if she's an inch. Susan gnaws a fingernail; her maincure's intact. She is lonesome, desperate, these women, these WOMEN – she thinks of Marcus, his fat caterpillar of a mustache, Marcus and that blond medtech who spasms and wets himself whenever she enters the room – she draws plans to shoot those dumb broads into orbit, knock some sense into their pretty little skulls. The men, contrary, purr back when she puts on her lowest tenor, they scope for cleavage when she unsnaps her uniform. Jubilee is studying something fascinating on the inside of the elevator door.
In the mornings Susan pulls her hair back, raw and stark from her face. She slicks it down with gatuk placenta she bought from the Centauri at twelve credits a tin. Makes her at least as sexy as Vir. She is Susan Ivanova. Commander. Babylon 5. And five years ago, some yellow-toothed diplomat with asymmetrical nostrils, when he thought she wasn't listening, muttering, "what a waste. She's way too hot for that thankless job."
House coveting, Sam Seaborn making and Vir kissing coming soon. The rest to unspool forthwith.
Several Hundred Lines About Women in General. Verbing, They Verbed. Installment One:
For
bexxa Ivanova, Primping
She looks in the mirror and thinks, fuck, man, I am dangerously beautiful. No, really, it's ridiculous, what an unbelievable waste. Her lipstick's the color of blood and it tastes like cake.
She feels good; clean. Her hair is clean, her fingernails. Her crow's feet aren't so bad in this light. She thinks of the steps between here and C&C and she wishes she could work from home. She thinks of the men.
There's always someone on the lift – she hasn't LOST the other earring, there IS no other earring, but thanks very much all the same – who licks his lip and leaves a beady little froth of spit. She stands close to the door and never lets her ass unclench.
In bull sessions every girl proclaimed herself a childhood tomboy; they've all got tales of tree-climbing and scraped knees and blowing shit up. Later, in college, one would emerge half-abashed as a math whiz; another spent her summers nose deep in Chaucer. Lay 'em end to end and not a single beauty queen. End to end they were proud as hell of it. Susan laid 'em end to end; Susan spent her summers nose deep in Natasha Mintz's snatch; Susan's eyes are way too big, and way too blue. She's got breeding hips.
Jubilee Rayburgh is the new lieutenant on pitch and yaw, six feet tall if she's an inch. Susan gnaws a fingernail; her maincure's intact. She is lonesome, desperate, these women, these WOMEN – she thinks of Marcus, his fat caterpillar of a mustache, Marcus and that blond medtech who spasms and wets himself whenever she enters the room – she draws plans to shoot those dumb broads into orbit, knock some sense into their pretty little skulls. The men, contrary, purr back when she puts on her lowest tenor, they scope for cleavage when she unsnaps her uniform. Jubilee is studying something fascinating on the inside of the elevator door.
In the mornings Susan pulls her hair back, raw and stark from her face. She slicks it down with gatuk placenta she bought from the Centauri at twelve credits a tin. Makes her at least as sexy as Vir. She is Susan Ivanova. Commander. Babylon 5. And five years ago, some yellow-toothed diplomat with asymmetrical nostrils, when he thought she wasn't listening, muttering, "what a waste. She's way too hot for that thankless job."
House coveting, Sam Seaborn making and Vir kissing coming soon. The rest to unspool forthwith.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:42 pm (UTC)You need to start watching Atlantis just for me, beloved, so we can verb some more.
Miss you beyond the telling.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:45 pm (UTC)And House coveting is nearly done. *g*
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:57 pm (UTC)Oh, fuck, how much I want. I'm coming before Christmas; I don't care what I have to do.
I could slash Sheppard/McKay.
I read the slash because that's 95% of what's there, and sometimes what's there's very good, but I feel the urge to go the philia route, because slashing those two, it's almost a cliché, it's like you aren't even trying. I feel like to be subversive in this fandom, you've got to revel in their friendship.
But of course I'd covet your Shep/McKay any day of the week. I'm not opposed to S/M/W either.
Can you get for me?
You're in luck. I have 107 onward, thanks to eli. FTP works for you?
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:59 pm (UTC)Oh, Atlantis, that's the best news I've had all week. You're savin' me, mon amour. Ou est l'appairel-foto??!
Come before Christmas!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:08 pm (UTC)L'appareil photo est sous le lit.
youaresab and I love you,
Me.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:11 pm (UTC)I'm going to work in an hour anyway. I'll catch you on the other side.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:44 pm (UTC)I liked the peek into Ivanova's brain...
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Date: 2005-07-14 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:50 pm (UTC)Tom McRae is playing at the Hotel Cafe Monday night, if there's any chance you want/can go.
Oh, and do I need to pick anything up on the way home? Food? Cat food? Cats? (KIDDING on the last one.)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:52 pm (UTC)Is there any chance you'll be home in time to drive me to work at six?
Cats continuing apace. And I would LOVE to go on Monday and there's no way I'll be able to. Cursing. Thanks, though.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:56 pm (UTC)Meh, it's only two hours or so. Not like it's a huge dent in my paycheck. And I need to pack and clean and do stuff before I leave tomorrow morning.
Yeah, sure, I'll be home by 5.30 if traffic doesn't blow hugely.
And ARGH, damn Rove and work and all of those evil things.
(And I'll steal M&Ms from work.)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:02 pm (UTC)Grocery shopping may have to wait till Saturday or Sunday... though I'm sure MK will pick stuff up, because aren't his parents coming this weekend?
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Date: 2005-07-14 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:05 pm (UTC)I have a feeling I asked for someone verbing when you offered, but I cannot for the life of me remember who or what. I guess it'll be a nice surprise one of these days *g*.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:21 pm (UTC)Wish the hip didn't hurt. Sigh.
Love the Ivanova, even without the context of more than one or two eps, love the pace and flair of you, and of your language.
We're going to see Jude tonight, and I thought of you!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:41 pm (UTC)Also on the list of things I love: you posting. That should happen more. Much more.
rambly happy babble
Date: 2005-07-14 11:49 pm (UTC)Look! Strawberries! I made an icon all by myself. It's possible that the world is ending. *g*
Ivanova. Oh, do I love her. I love your story too. Thank you. :-)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 11:49 pm (UTC)*Why* isn't LA closer to Sydney. I want to see your cane and share a chair and show off girls like Edith with pigeons. Could we push some continents?
Hungry. Curly. Tall.
xG
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 01:49 am (UTC)I am in that can't write can't write no words place. But, yes. You. And your Ivanova. Yes.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 02:16 am (UTC)In other news, I was talking about you today, about how you should come visit. Found out dropdeadgorgeousinthenaturalway Kate has had the life long crush on the Elijah and I started thinking about you, about how you should come out here for a few days before the season ends.
Anyway, that's what I thought. I need to do some situps. This depressive eating must end.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 02:46 pm (UTC)We must write all copy for people who seem to be vaguely retarded and very, very old.
Why they'd be buying dragon products, I can't fathom.
If it was for a music box of some kind, that would be me.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-22 03:01 pm (UTC)