I think now I grok the reasoning behind the large fonts in Web 2.0 applications:
It's so you can still log in even if you're drunk.
I mean, I'm pretty buzzed right now, and I can still sign into tumblr.
I'm trying to work on a couple of projects, with some success. I've got a new site set up for a project I'm calling Cinder, and someday, maybe I'll fill it up with content. Right now I've got a cloud of ideas, but I wanted to get the design right. Ok, I wanted to play in Photoshop and/or the GIMP.
I'm also working on a longish short story (9000 words, right now, but it may expand or contract; first drafts, you know) set in Ukraine, titled "Between Heaven and Earth". It may be one of the darkest things I've ever written, and I think it may get darker before it's done.
And I've still got my zombies vs. pirates story on the go, and I also want to work on my nano winner from a couple years ago.
Well, back at 'er.
The roads were dry, the sidewalks clean, the lawns showing brown. Then we got a big dump of snow the other day, and more today.
Curses.
At least I have a Mexico-themed party to go to tonight.
So I got myself an early start.
So I got this email just now:
By the time you read this, your manuscripts will have already been rejected.
There's no sense in asking me why or what you could have done differently, because I've already moved on to other stories.
It wasn't you. It was me. I — Awww, who'm I kidding… it was partly you. You didn't make me feel like you were really interested in making this relationship work. I didn't feel any sparks between us. You didn't make me laugh.
This story wasn't a match made in heaven, but the next one may be. Submit again. If you don't, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. And for the rest of your life.
Sincerely,
On the Brighter Side [the magazine I submitted to --Ed.]
PS: I'm keeping the ring.
I like when I get amusing rejection letters*. But nothing has yet topped being called "Ms. Johanneson" by the now-defunct scifi.com.
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* By which I mean, if I must be rejected, I prefer to be rejected by someone with a sense of humour. (Though I must say that constructive criticism trumps laughs.)
…or "What I had to do for a silver medal".
I'm the one being thrown.
Enjoy!
The throws are, in order:
Uki-otoshi ("floating drop")
Seoi-nage ("shoulder throw")
Kata-guruma ("shoulder wheel")*
Uki-goshi ("floating hip throw")
Harai-goshi ("sweeping hip throw")
Tsurikomi-goshi ("lifting-pulling hip throw")
Okuri-ashi-harai ("sideways foot sweep")
Sasae-tsurikomi-ashi ("blocking lifting-pulling foot throw")
Uchi-mata ("inner thigh throw")
Each one is performed right-handed and left-handed.
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* Which impresses everyone, but really isn't that bad of a landing, if you know what you're doing.
I should keep my phone's hands-free speaker away from my credit cards.
So I got a silver in the kata competition. Video will come later, once I've youtubered it.
Tomorrow, sometime, I'll be doing something very much like this:
at a tournament. (Except I only have to do the first nine throws.) Wish me luck!
"Margaret?"
"Yes, luv?"
"Next time you buy tissues, would you be so kind as to buy the kind with the lotion in 'em?"
"And why's that then?"
"See, luv, when I get a cold, usin' them regular tissues is kind of like usin' sandpaper to blow my nose."
"Oh Hubert, you exaggerate so."
"I ask you, wife of mine, do I look like I'm exaggeratin'?"
"Oh my."
IMG_0463.JPG discovered in Elliott les yeux grands fermés's Flickr photostream.
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My latest ficlet