When I left the dorm an hour ago, the clouds were already completely black and looking about to explode any second. And they weren’t going to explode with just rain, either, oh, no - we’re talking rain, hail, hail and snow at the same time (meteorologically improbable), shiny black beetles, African violets, crowbars, teeth, and ornate brass steampunk conveyances with sooty little people in goggles peering owlishly out the portholes.
You people do not understand about these clouds. They are hard.
Yet somehow it had only just started drizzling when I walked back in a minute ago. The two guys playing football out there only stopped like five seconds ago.
Diabolical signature
Demon’s signatures are designed to disguise their actual names. They are usually signed in blood. If there is a mass of signatures, they are usually signed in a circle, a doctrine of signatures.
There are a number of alleged demon signatures in existence, some or all perhaps faked.
One of my Kingdom of Loathing characters’ burritoes disappeared in the night. I haven’t broken my hippy stone or anything, this totally should not have happened.
…you know what would be a good thing for the game to do? If one or two of your burritoes, chow meins, and pizzas disappeared during rollover sometimes, and a randomly-selected character in the town somewhere was looking kind of shifty. That would be very KoL.
Also, I’d like it if you could use the Fermenting Powder on stuff other than grapes. Like, Goat’s Milk. You ought to be able to ferment it into Goat Cheese. I always have to spend a couple days at the Goatlet to get enough Goat Cheese, and I could totally cut it down to less than a day like that. You shouldn’t have to spend more than a day at the Goatlet, that’s just dumb.
They’ve been setting off fireworks down in the football field the past couple nights, which has completed my nighttime sensory befuddlement. The room looks like a hotel room, the hill slopes down to the field outside my window like the ground down to the ocean, and it’s always windy at night, and the wind sounds like waves. I keep being half-asleep thinking I’m at the beach and trying to remember if I’ve sneered at any hermit crabs through their terrariums yet this time.
(This text was originally posted on LiveJournal. It has been reformatted (awkwardly) for use on WordPress.)
I finished Torikaebaya Monogatari/The Changelings/If Only I Could Exchange Them a while back. This is a book written during the Heian era about a brother and sister who are “by nature inclined to act as the opposite sex,” and just happen to look exactly alike.
Guess what they do.
They eventually switch back, after several years, a lot of angst, and no actual, physical gay sex.
The author is unknown, and there’s apparently a debate about his/her gender. I will now conclusively put an end to this debate through the application of my giant brain:
The author was a straight guy because the thwarted-buttsex was comedy and the lesbian stuff was completely serious.
You may now sit in silent awe of my brilliant and I’m sure completely original analysis. Tears may, if necessary, spring to your eyes; no sniffling.
( Slightly more serious analysis behind the cut. )
No one has ever heard of this book (Sensei hadn’t - he stood there flipping through it looking bemused for a while when I showed it to him), and it’s impossible to buy cheaply. My copy’s from the library. I probably shouldn’t put it to immoral internet purposes.
Continue reading “Torikaebaya Monogatari”
Too menstrual. Digestive tract too unreliable. Back too sore. All out of verbs.
Fake meat called “crumbles” cannot, in fact, be molded satisfactorily into meatballs, the addition of tomato goop notwithstanding. I had to turn it into a kind of chili that had no beans or chili powder instead, so that it was basically “soup” rather than chili.
It was okay, but it definitely did not meet my original requirement of being something I could put on a bamboo skewer in a little row.
I laughed at this book when I checked it in today. I am a bad person.
(I also stole this image from Amazon - hence the little copyright notices - so I’m a really bad person.)
Big and orange means severe, man! We’re not talking about fidgeting here, or talking too loud at parties or taking your pizza apart before you eat it - none of those minor behavior problems! We’re talking about throwing buildings at happy dogs and then exploding! SEVERE behavior problems!
My new rice cooker doesn’t have a timer. It has a scale - it weighs the water and rice and then sets the timer for you. It thinks stuff; it clicks sometimes, and each of those clicks is a dark, secret thought. I’m sitting with my back to it, and I don’t like that.
Mrph.
I forgot to take a picture today. You don’t get one.
(I also forgot about the chalk and Buddhism, of course.)
I want to play Chrono Trigger all of a sudden today (this person’s fault), but I don’t own a copy. I got angry at it before because Toriyama was involved it in it and I hate the porn-sneers he gives people when they’re fighting, but now I feel like I wasted so much time on it I ought to finish it. Except I’d now have to waste all that time a second time, because my saved game is lost forever.
So I guess the moral is that life isn’t fair, even though there are video games in it.
