Fear me!

Shoot me now. Bludgeon me with a fish. Smash my head in with an ashtray as big...as a really fucking big brick.

Do you know what I read before going to bed last night. It wasn't Lost or Ghosts in the Snow. It wasn't matociquala & truepenny's wolf-smut.

Oh no. I was reading Rememberence of Things Past. Please end my misery now.

And do you know why I was reading A La Recherche du Temps Perdu? Not just because I'm a masochist and didn't have any hot wax or razor blades handy. Oh no. I was joking around in the zoo about a Proustian scene in Prayers. Then I stopped to think about it and wondered if I was right. So I found the book. I may end up writing the littiest ghoul-smut the world has ever scene.

Omni is still weird and evil.


You're a Mystery writer!


What kind of writer are you?
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I only wish. I was aiming for slash writer.

(no subject)

Either "the Visitations" are playing havoc with my senses, or a lot of people at this school need to wash their hair.

Ewww.

Where are my cute boys who smell like sandalwood?