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Aug. 3rd, 2004
George: I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not. I excel at not giving a shit. Experience has taught me that interest begets expectation, and expectation beget disappointment, so the key to avoiding disappointment is to avoid interest. A equals B equals C Equals A, or whatever. I also don't have a lot of interest in being a good person or a bad person. From what I can tell, either way, you're screwed. Bad people are punished by society's laws, and good people are punished by Murphy's Law. So you see my dilemma.
*
[George has just attended her own autopsy]
George: So, what's next? Onward and upward?
Rube: "Onward", not "upward". No pearly gates for you. No choirs of angels, either.
George: You dick! You're sendin' me to hell?
*
Rube: You like spaghetti, George? I like spaghetti. I like board games. I like grabbing a trifecta with that longshot on top. That ozone smell you get from air purifiers. And I like knowing the space between my ears is immeasurable. Mahler's first, Bernstein conducting. You've got to think about all the things you like and decide whether they're worth sticking around for. And if they are, you'll find a way to do this.
George: And what if I don't?
Rube: Then you go away, and you don't get to like anything anymore.
Dude. I love this show so v. v. much. It's funny, it's intelligent, it's touching. For those of you who don't know, Dead Like Me is a show about grim reapers. Georgia (aka George) is around 19 and out on her lunch break her first day of work and is struck by a toilet seat that fell from a Russian space station. She's killed and joins the reapers. Hilarity and angst ensue.
And they have jokes about Monty Python!
*
Anyway. Neesha, you'll be pleased to know that I've got a start on my prologue. Finally. Only a little over 200 words so far, but it hasn't even begun yet so yeah. But I'm happy with it, and this makes me even happier. Should I e-mail it or post it? If posting, do you want to edit it beforehand?
Speaking of which, I'm thinking about posting updates of this story here on my journal as an attempt to keep myself from abandoning it. I was wondering whether my wonderful, darling friends would be willing to give me feedback if I did this. Would you?
*
[George has just attended her own autopsy]
George: So, what's next? Onward and upward?
Rube: "Onward", not "upward". No pearly gates for you. No choirs of angels, either.
George: You dick! You're sendin' me to hell?
*
Rube: You like spaghetti, George? I like spaghetti. I like board games. I like grabbing a trifecta with that longshot on top. That ozone smell you get from air purifiers. And I like knowing the space between my ears is immeasurable. Mahler's first, Bernstein conducting. You've got to think about all the things you like and decide whether they're worth sticking around for. And if they are, you'll find a way to do this.
George: And what if I don't?
Rube: Then you go away, and you don't get to like anything anymore.
Dude. I love this show so v. v. much. It's funny, it's intelligent, it's touching. For those of you who don't know, Dead Like Me is a show about grim reapers. Georgia (aka George) is around 19 and out on her lunch break her first day of work and is struck by a toilet seat that fell from a Russian space station. She's killed and joins the reapers. Hilarity and angst ensue.
And they have jokes about Monty Python!
*
Anyway. Neesha, you'll be pleased to know that I've got a start on my prologue. Finally. Only a little over 200 words so far, but it hasn't even begun yet so yeah. But I'm happy with it, and this makes me even happier. Should I e-mail it or post it? If posting, do you want to edit it beforehand?
Speaking of which, I'm thinking about posting updates of this story here on my journal as an attempt to keep myself from abandoning it. I was wondering whether my wonderful, darling friends would be willing to give me feedback if I did this. Would you?
