Meme's ahoy!

File in "Everybody Else is Doing It, Why Not Me?" Dept:

Meme #1
RULES: If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else. This is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).

I am posting more than one sentence for each, because, well, I want to.

(I presume much, I know, but while I'm not published, and not at all what I would consider a writer, I do write.)

First up is my "novel", which I started first, and which is sort of stuck around page 30.

Then it hit me; the incidents don't always hit the same, but there's almost always the pain, a sharp pain behind my eyes, that lets me know what's happening. Sometimes I pass out; more often, I remain conscious and display any number of symptoms, depending on the ad. I may start gagging, or my eyes might start watering, or I may start coughing so hard that the area of my back between my shoulderblades hurts from the strain of my muscles. This time it is actually worse.

Next up is the story of mine that has yet to be rejected by Strange Horizons. It's titled "Thirty-Three".

In general, everyone's been nice enough, but there's always some jerk with a cowl and a generic European accent who starts heckling me, saying stuff about mine not being a science, but rather the purview of bitter spinsters who tie their hair in buns and wear sensible shoes. I try to argue that that is an unfair stereotype, much like the stereotype of a mad scientist with a cowl and a generic European accent, but by that time the jerk has distracted everyone with his army of Cyborg apes.

The final story that I'm working on is probably the one I have the most affection for, just because it is the most surreal. I've only started writing this story down, although I have it organized in my head.

"You're late, Mr. Oxleigh." The voice had no visible source as it echoed through the atrium of the library.

Its working title is "Arthur Oxleigh: Bibliographic Control"; it's another librarian story, but a lot more fantastical.

I'm not participating in National Drunken Writing Night 2004, since what I need to start writing is my "half-thesis" on information literacy and the use of citation software. I should also start sending out resumes, since I graduate next month. Whether I get anything actually done remains to be seen. (Ed is participating in it, and it appears to be library-oriented. Complete with what we called "the burning bush" when Dave Abel used to do this at parties in high school. On purpose. The smell was horrendous, believe me. We were sort of crazy kids, considering we didn't drink, do drugs, or [for the most part] have sex.)

* * * * * * * *

Meme #2
When you see this, post a song in your journal.

I've had this song stuck in my head for a couple weeks.


Get in the swing, pal
Get in the swing
With everybody and everything
(repeat)

My friends are here
Mind if you go out and not come back again
Well, thanks a lot
Hooray, hooray
The night is younger than the girl who's got the touch
But not by much

Well, I ain't no Freud,
I'm from L.A.
But I know certain things
That they also serve who sit and wait
They're cheaper than painting
And don't need explaining

(Chorus)

When Salmon spawn
A ton of water blocks their motion,
Spoils their game
But on they go
Thrashing 'til their mission is fulfilled or else
Oh, but they have their friends
And have a warm bed waiting
Just like I do with you
I'm happy, so happy, I'm happy, oh happy

(Chorus)

All for one, one for all

(Chorus)

Hello down there
This is your creator with a questionaire
Hello up there
I don't have the time to fill out questionaires


Lyrics by Ron Mael
Performed by Sparks.