But we all know her suicides are fake

Today was mostly a useless day, as I suffered from a violent attack of PMS-induced emo. I managed about 500 words, though sadly not on the project with a deadline. Whenever I write Maddy I seem to spend half the time looking at BMEzine.

Regarding my tattoo question, I'm going with the wings, even though Maddy is calling me a cheese-ass. Ah well--she's the one who'll be stuck with it, not me.

I'm currently storywormed by a song. Now I have to figure out what's crawling from the slime at the bottom of a dark Scottish lake, who's inside the cottage by the lake, and how this relates to the suburban family many miles away. :P I do not like my brain some days.

Remind me when I finally get around to Kingdoms of Dust (the third Isyllt book), to add a Raiders of the Lost Ark market-chase homage. Maybe Isyllt can shoot somebody. And I can use the drunken zombie snakes. Asps. Very dangerous.

And I thought I had something else worth posting, but apparently not. Goodnight, internets.

Alas, poor blackberries...

So those blackberries I slaved for a week to build a bed for? Plague-ridden. I'm not sure the exact nature of the virus, but I wasn't about to take any chances of spreading it around, so poor Heckyl and Jeckyl went back to the store today to be put to sleep. :(

Since I've got the (&*^*& trellis up already, I'm planting morning glories and nasturtiums tomorrow, and trying the berries again next year. Boo, hiss.

And since the emo seems to have eased up a little, I really have to write today.