lostakasha | Recent Entries

Firstly, may I just pimp my darling friend Jon Gale? He's going to be on Criminal Minds tomorrow night -- it's his big break on network TV, although he's done lots of stage work and a fair chunk of movies. I'd rather read the police log while covered in red ants and honey than watch Criminal Minds, so this is a BIG DEAL. (Sorry, CM fans -- I just get so triggered that I can't bear to watch most gristly procedurals. Nothing personal.)

Photobucket

let's try this one -- see how handsome!

We're having a friend over to do a Jon Viewing Party tomorrow night; she doesn't care for procedurals either and loves her some SPN, so my guess is that we'll be flipping back to the boys as soon as Jon says his line. :) Yup, that's it -- one line. That's the horror of Hollywood, though -- acting is fairly easy; getting work is what's hard. I don't know how he keeps plugging, but he does. That's why we all moan around looking for our favorite actors to no avail (looking at you, Jason Behr) -- you can't just be gorgeous and talented and relentless, you must be fucking lucky. (Being bendy and indiscriminate might help, but luck has a role there as well.)

Speaking of horror, Jon's latest movie is called Revenant. It got great reviews at the LA Shriekfest and hopes are high for a distribution deal. You can find out about it here: http://www.revenant-themovie.com/

In other news, life in the west is so fine, so far, so good. (Bonus points if anyone gets that song reference.) We went pumpkin picking Sunday and OMG WTF WHY IS CALI SO HORRIBLY HOT? Oh, right. That's why we moved. :::headslam:::

We drove a few miles south to Hayward because there's a Sonic there...haven't had Sonic since

sweptawaybayou took me there in Kansas (oh, Snow how I miss you) so a couple of years and couple of thousand miles west and AHOY cranberry lime fruity goodness. That said, we got lost and with gas prices at an apocalyptic $4.59/gal, we will forever refer to the event as "our $60 burger."

I do not like the butter here. And WTF is a ball tip roast? Do not want. (And I do love me some balls, but really....)

How are you??????

or not, really. Just some blather for a Tuesday.

We're getting settled in; almost all of our boxes are unpacked, and our everyday lives are mostly neat and organized. To keep moving costs down we got rid of a lot of stuff, and as a result we have barely any furniture in a big, echo-ey apartment. Which has a way of making me feel all new and tingly, so all to the good!

We went into the People's Republic of Berkeley this past weekend, and it was as great as I'd hoped. Found a few amazing furniture stores -- amazing as in great design and seriously great prices -- but the one of the best parts of the day was finding parking spots reserved for Nobel Laureates. That is so unbearably nifty. And where else would you find a Mexican-Pakistani-Indian restaurant? Mexistandian cuisine FTW.

It's probably very different these days, but Berkeley of today reminds me of how Cambridge, MA used to be before it became a homogenized mini-mall.

That's what I love about my new community -- lots of mom and pop shops, only a couple of chain stores. The obligatory Starbucks, naturally -- and excuse me, but if Peet's Coffee is HQ'd here, shouldn't we pay less for it than in Boston? Apparently not. (I feel a 'get offa my lawn' old geezer moment about to erupt.)

To counteract the old geezerism, here's a tip for all of you rebels out there who may be considering relocation: I've had my great grandmother's xmas cactus plant since her death in 1970 and when the movers told me it couldn't cross state lines I was brokenhearted. But...they would take my dry goods and canned goods. So, I packed a large carton with cereal boxes, dry soups and the remains of my pantry. I watered the holy fuck out of the plant, drained it well, and set it into a disposable litter pan in the center of the groceries. A little packing paper held it in place, and a pillow over the top kept it from breaking. It survived two weeks in transit and now sits on my patio! And as an added bonus, the last of my herbal remedy *cough* made it through just fine -- I accidentally left my stash in my nightstand. So yay for hiding in plain sight.

I really do belong here.

Oh! I cut my hair. As in OFF. It was at my waist when I left Boston, and now it's above my ears. Wheee!

Writing about things that light your fire will make you giddy with joy.

Writing about things that rob you of the will to live may one day pay your bills.

Embrace the horror.

If your character is taking a breath, or respirating, or inhaling and exhaling repeatedly, they are breathing. They are taking a moment to b-r-e-a-t-h-e.

Breathe that in for a second. Get a whiff of that.

Breathe is not spelled b-r-e-a-t-h.

When we say breathe, it sounds like "breeth." When we say breath it sounds like "breth."

I have no breath left in me to explain transitive and intransitive verbs to you, so I'll just say this:

BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E
BREATHE HAS AN E

Damn, that looks like Gaelic. Or Enochian.

BREATHE ENDS IN A FUCKING E
BREATHE ENDS IN A FUCKING E
BREATHE ENDS IN A FUCKING E
BREATHE ENDS IN A FUCKING E
BREATHE ENDS IN A FUCKING E

Signed,

Your mentor and dispenser of vry srs bsns about wrds,
Akasha

PEE ESS: To everyone who sent comfort and kindness to me about Pyewacket, thank you. You guys are love. xoxoxo

Current Mood: aggravated

My little orange tabby, Pyewacket, died in my arms Tuesday. She was 16.

It was so sudden -- she had thyroid problems that we were managing very well and was healthy up until the last day. She was playful and in great fettle Monday night, but didn't come down for breakfast Tuesday morning. She died at 2 in the afternoon.

I'd post her picture but I can't manage it just yet.

Before she lost her hearing last year she would come when I sang for her. If she was hiding all I had to do was belt out a few bars of Happy Birthday and in she'd bounce, all "What do you want?"

I've had many pets throughout my life, but her loss is like no other. I thought she'd make it to California with us and grow old in the sunshine.

And here I was, thinking either D or me would die before we got to the promised land, but no -- just my baby.

Current Mood: heartbroken

We don't listen to Top 40 radio much these days, why I'm not even sure, but a while back we were riding around with it on and heard Grenade for the first time. When it was over, we looked at each other, horrified. D said, "what the fuck is wrong with him?"

I decided to rewrite the chorus from a functioning adult's point of view. Well, somewhat functioning:

I would go to Rite Aid for you
Pick up some Schick razor blades for you
Make Country Time lemonade for you
You know I'd do some nice things for you
I would lend you “Cities on the Plain,”
Take you walkin' out in the rain
No, I won’t die for you, baby
Because I’m not that lame.

And now it's in your ear and I won't suffer alone. Speaking of suffering, I sat with D through American Idol last night. It's her favorite show but... damn, damn, that is love. Bruno, you wanna talk sacrifice for love? DUDE. That's it, right there.

and yes, you may call me ho.

But not a hoarder, which is what I felt like when the 1-800-Got Junk truck pulled into my driveway on Monday. ( time for a few small repairs, she said )

AIYEEEEEEEEEE

Title: Fractured in the Echo and Sway
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Character: Claire Novak
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,023
Summary: The first time she heard the song on the radio, Claire and her mother were pulling into a strip mall parking lot in Hood River.

Notes: This is what happens when I have to polish my shoes. Lyrics and title by Elvis Costello.

Feedback would be lovely.

( she doesn’t have anything she used to have: not a permanent address, not a pair of real leather shoes, not a father )

Is it 1988 again? Lemme see -- shoulder pads? Nope. Maxipads? Nope and nope.

How can the telemarketing manager not know how to type text into an Excel worksheet?

How does he not know keyboard save/cut/paste shortcuts?

( if this was fiction it might be funny, but it's real and not so much )

Jesus, take the fucking wheel. I don't care if you lost your sandals and the DMV says no barefootin' and your daddy's gone rogue, dammit, just drive.

*slams head on desk*

Current Mood: aggravated

rivers_bend linked me to this wonderful post where you can write a fic about your fantasy boyfriend. So I did!

Title: Who's Your Dada?
Rating: PG. Relax. There's no sex.
Triad: Misha Collins/Victoria Vantoch/Me
Warnings: Poetry, pretension, apple abuse, I'm in it for chrissakes.

( Thank God leeks need lots of cleaning. )

Victoria Vantoch is an author, a Guggenheim and NASA scholar specializing in queer theory, and I want her. She renewed her wedding vows at Albertson's. In drag. ♥♥♥♥ And Women of Power did exist, and it was wonderful.

Poetry lines from Gertude Stein, Lifting Belly, W.B. Yeats, An Irish Airman Foresees His Death.

Current Mood: happy

Over on tumblr....

spikeschilde621 blogged her opinion on SPN AU fics today, and it prompted me to think about why, when I almost never read AU fics when I wrote/read in the BTVS/AtS fandoms, I am reading SPN AUs quite often. YAY FOR THINKY THOUGHTS.

( hrmmmmmm )

Current Mood: cold

Finally signed up on tumblr to try and keep a journal of our relocation to San Francisco! And other weirdness. Probably NSFW from time to time, knowing me!

~~If you'd like to~~ please, please follow me there:

http://lostakasha.tumblr.com/

Trust me -- it's worth it for the Misha-Vonnegut-Georgia O'Keefe banner I made.I think my graphic skills are slowly retuning!

I was a sophomore in college when Kansas' Leftoverture came out. I practically wore it out -- under the headphones with the volume cranked to 10 (Nigel Tuffnel wasn't even a twinkle in Christopher Guest's eye then) - writing like a maniac, getting stoned, writing more, occasionally waking up naked beneath friends' dining room tables -- and so on. Lather, rinse, repeat.

So here we are. 2011. I've got bad knees, a bum ankle, a fat ass, and perky parts that gave up perking before the Patriot Act. I'm down to seeds and stems. My hands go numb in the cold, so I'll let the young'uns occupy Wall Street with my 150% support.

And here I sit, a nice glass of Cotes du Rhone handy, earbuds plugged in and the volume cranked to 12 -- and damn, if that song from that tee-vee show about the two hunting bros doesn't sound just as good as it did when it Carry On was personal.

Guess it still is, in a way, thanks to the queer joy of it all. :)

Don't have a dining room table anymore, though. Perhaps that's for the best.

Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son

Yeah, I'm back in fandom, in over my head -- but just as a reader this time around.

And I've found something fantabulous to read that I have to share, especially for the Dean/Cas crowd:

spn_redemption is an absolutely enthralling virtual season of SPN -- call it season 6A. They've posted one episode, World Leader Pretend, which you can find here. The writing is spotless and gorgeous -- one episode up and it's already filling that brutal hole kicked in my ribs by the blink and you'll miss it dispatch of Godstiel.

As for the artwork? Holy hell -- I usually avoid fanart like the plague (too much eyeball damage from Unicorn!Spander and Tentacle!Spike, methinks) but the story art by

gikun is absolutely breathaking.

Run! Reed! Redeem!

Current Mood: chipper

...am I sitting here, with Jefferson fucking Starship blaring in my headset and getting goddamn GOOSEBUMPS thinking about Dean and Castiel?

JEFFERSON FUCKING STARSHIP

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

okay, so maybe it's the only tolerable song they ever did, if you don't listen to the gawdawful lyrics and wonder how big Grace Slick's mortgage/horse habit had to be for her to consent to singing a friggin' bar of it, and okay, so maybe I had sex as this song played on the mix tape and maybe it was pretty damn awesome because how many years ago was that and my stupid, stupid, stupid ryhmes-with-Dolores is still as suggestible as Pavlov's first beagle and maybe I'm trying to convince myself that it's just because Misha Collins turns me on to a ridiculous degree and iTunes could be playing Happy Birthday (TM) Patty and Mildred S. Hill and the result would be the same and maybe wondering if

sweptawaybayou realizes that we've never seen Misha and Jason Behr in the same room at the same time and maybe I need to hit replay....

BUT I DON'T HAVE TO LIKE IT.

I'm an adult and I can stop anytime I want. Right? Right?

ETA: Never mind the Dean/Castiel.

There's a little purple house with a teal door on a side street near a park in Monterey. The steps leading to the entrance are paved with broken pieces of FiestaWare. If you stop on the sidewalk out front, you'll hear this awful song threading from the half-open windows, but you won't stop because it's Jefferson fucking Starship, and it's a good thing, too, because you won't want to hear the noises the man and woman inside are making.

Dean who? Hells yeah, baby, it's me and Misha in there and I AM NOT SORRY.

Current Mood: aggravated
Current Music: Miracles, Jefferson FUCKING Starship

But that new episode made me belly laugh, time and again.

And there was more than one moment when I thought, "Tsk, tsk...stealing from Angel."

At least they're cribbing from the best, so I'll prefer to think of it as an homage.

And you just can't beat the pretty.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: These Boots are Made for Walkin' - Nancy Sinatra

And here I thought I'd lost the capacity to surprise myself.

Until I heard its definition on Cash Cab I had no idea St. Elmo's Fire was a weather phenomenon.

I thought it was a disease, like St. Vitus Dance. Honest.

No, never did see the movie -- I just assumed one of the Brat Packers had St. Elmo's Fire, or died from it, or something.

I haven't laughed this hard in a long, long time.

Now that stupid damn movie theme song makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I can feel St. Elmo's fire burnin' in meeeee...

Still say it's a disease. Highly communicable, and probably venereal. I'm looking at you, Judd Nelson.

Current Mood: ditzy

I've decided to move over here!

More on that later...I'm off to find icons!

Current Mood: busy

Oh, dear flist, I call unto thee for directions to the best Dean/Castiel fic.

As in

tabaqui and

rivers_bend and

sweptawaybayou quality: perfectly characterized, gorgeous, feral prose that will leave me heartsore and enraptured.

I've only ever read Tabi's and River's SPN fics (and the too few Dean/Angel joints of Snow's) but they don't write Dean/Castiel, I don't believe. If I'm wrong, holy hell, sisters, POINT ME TO THEM NOW.

I know.

*cries*

p.s. HAI!

Current Mood: determined

I AM FIVE YEARS BEHIND THE REST OF YOU but OMG.

Run, do not walk, to

killerweasel's LJ and watch this Supernatural vid set to Don McLean's American Pie. The creator is BottledMichelle.

I didn't think anyone could ever redeem the American Pie song, but damn. Only Sam and Dean and Bobby and Jo and omg Jo and Ellen and Cass and I die.

OMG. YES I KNOW I AM FIVE YEARS BEHIND THE REST OF YOU, but...

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just a kiss away

written on the soul

Recent Entries

Shameless pimp an oh HAI THERE EL JAY

an august start to august? guess so...

unsolicited advice to new writers dreaming of a paycheck

Dear Fanfic Author:

sleep tight, Pyewacket

let's send Bruno to Mars!

Westward, ho...

Ficlet

What the fuzzy-sweatered f*ck?

Oh. Dear. I may have ficced myself.

About SPN AUs

I can has tumblr?

come, children, traipse down mammary lane with old Akasha...

Redemption Road rules!

W.T.F. WHY GOD WHY?

Okay, so I'm the world's worst SPN fangirl

all I need is a pair of wheels

Since LJ is on the fritz

somebody raise me from perdition....

flails