Dissolution (No Ninguno Nada)
Oct. 26th, 2009 11:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jheti
From Last Thursday! A bus adventure, tagged, but not locked. THERE IS ALSO BOOKSTUFF UNDER THE CUT.
My ride gives me time to read. I recently finished In The Company Of Others. It took fifty pages to get interesting, and shares a great deal in terms of character development and theme with Survival.
I just discovered Company was written first, about four years before Survival. It was the dry run for ideas she evidently develops a great deal in the Species Imperative series. There's also a lot more technical polish to Survival--the scenes are tight, almost coiled, around the central tension of the book. You can watch the trap spring as you read about it, which saves the predictable revelation.
I have to be honest; I like Aaron and Malley (Company) much better than any of the characters in Survival; I can't even remember their names.
Her scene construction is incredibly deft. And her ideas/knowledge/sense of how life is formed and what it takes to sustain it are solid and engaging. I wish she'd talk down to us a little less, or at least learn how to manage the difference between "how u form babby" and "selective asexual mitosis" tones--she'll wobble from simplistic to deep jargon within a few paragraphs.
Character is not her strong point. So, no lie, there's points at which I was/am agonizingly bored and skipping around for the next chunk of "good idea! om nom nom delicious idea" writing.
And there's no sex in it, which is a ringingly high recommendation for some.
As I'm recalling it now, I don't think the main pairing (which is a total disbelief-wounding yawnfest, by the way) even kisses. Not even once.
I really wanted to see Aaron dealing with his empathy and inability to touch others in greater detail.
There's a lot to like about Company, but it's a bit ragged and slow-moving, and I want to kill the girlfriend.
There were some great jabs at the entire concept of Starfleet stuffed into the book, though. XD
I also read Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. It was dry, as these tales of spiritual pilgrimages tend to be, but it was a little more absorbing than Confessions for various reasons, and the prosody was interesting. I will be leaving it on my bookshelf that I may continue to brag of having read it. The people who are impressed with such things will be impressed, and the others will give me those puzzled/faintly intimidated looks I get when I ask questions at the end of their presentations after they say "Any Questions?"
You do realize, of course, that "Any Questions?" is the college graduate's way of saying "Well, that's it, thanks!" to end a speech.
I want to know more, darling, don't run away; I have inquiry! Answer me, bb. <3
And I can always tell when they're gonna be a talker. It's part of the reason I've gotten into these big tomes with spacemen on the covers; it stops most of the talkers cold. I'm visibly reading something and it is pretty clearly not their idea of what chatty missy should be reading. It's saved me before.
It stalled him for a good half-hour.
"What you readin'?"
"Science fiction, see?" *Waggle book. Grit teeth. It's like smiling.*
"That's a big book." No shit. It's only an inch and a half thick. "Is it a good book?"
It was, and I was reading it, which you are preventing.
On the other hand. You are in good enough shape to hurt me, and you did not get off six stops ago. This suggests you're going to the terminal. I am also going to the terminal. You could make trouble for me. I have to be nice.
"Oh sure!" *BEAM.* The pure million-megawatt enthusiasm of these two words usually convinces people I'm manic and shuts the conversation down.
It does, and it did. A few minutes pass in silence as I try to remember my place in the book--she made a riot on the station seem dull, somehow, but it was getting good in the parts that were about Aaron and--
"You gonna write a book?"
"No."
"Why not?"
OHMYFUCKINGGODREALLY? Really? Really, life?
I should just whip out, "My brother fucking hanged himself, moron!" but that just makes guys drool, their fingers curling with the urge to touch me, and ask if I need a man in my life.
Here I believe it helps to mention that my breasts have had all my conversations with men for the last sixteen years. Without exception.
Sometimes they talk to women, too, but that's rare. Chickies are scared to look. XD
Anyway, yeah, he's been talking to them for the last five minutes, been saying hello to them with his eyes for the last...where are we, okay, half an hour?...and the best part is, they think I don't notice. Like they're the first guy to ever do it.
Sixteen. Years. Which is clearly how old you think I am, or you wouldn't be popping a semi, Casanova.
So. We are at an impasse.
"I don't have time." Manage a giggle, feeling nothing but tired and old, somehow, knowing I'll do this again in a month, two months, three, forever. "School, you know. College."
I just don't remember details; they all say the same crap.
My "cellphone" number is (area code)-(cellphone prefix)-5309. It has been for years.
They never catch on. Never.
Where can I find a woman like that? GUITAR.
Anyway, he falls for it, and now we're talking When is the best time to call you? like I would ever actually spend SYLLABLES on him of my own free will, out of any sense of choice, nevermind desire.
And I'm thinking, Spin it fast, Jhets, or he'll figure out it's a fake. So we get to the subject of weekends.
Here, I get to tell the biggest lie of all.
"No sir, it's church for me on Sundays!"
Am I going to hell? I'm so tired. I'm actually bored, watching this guy, listening to the drivel pattering out of his mouth; I want to drive my knuckles down his throat, just to see what would happen. Just to hear him make a different noise. Change it up a little.
He's droning on, trying to get into my weekend, and I keep repeating, "church church god's love" like it has anything to do with anything, until the urge to hit him goes away, and somehow without me thinking about it, we're having a conversation.
Or, rather, he is. He's going on at great length about...god, I think.
This is a good topic. People in my area of the country will go on forever about god and Jesus and the Bible, and we're almost halfway to the station; I only need one hour more.
"I'mnothing anymore Lutheran! *BEAM* What kind of Christian are you?"
Works himself up into a fantastic discussion of why the Pope is the Antichrist. Which is only the stupidest thing I've ever heard, but that's neither here nor there.
GOD BLESS DAN BROWN. HE TAUGHT THE MORONS OF THE WORLD CHRISTIAN CONSPIRACY THEORIES.
THANK YOU JESUS AMEN HALLELUJAH <3
(I recently realized that Mbombo vomiting up the sun, and Ra popping out of an egg and wanking upon the waters to bring forth his children, and infant Zeus surviving by sucking goat tit...NONE of these tales are any LESS ridiculous than--wait for it!--wait for it!--wait'll you hear this one:
a talking snake and an apple being the source of all the evil in the world.
It would be more of a faith crisis if I had more faith left. *Shrug.*)
Did I mention he asked me if I shave my legs?
I was wearing full clothing at the time. Past the ankles. I barely ever even wear T-shirts. Always, always 2/3rd sleeves at least.
Which didn't stop him from asking if I shave my legs.
Of course I don't. I don't have a boyfriend! I'm too fat to wear shorts! Why the hell would I shave my legs? How the fuck is it any of his fucking business?
Don't want trouble. Will never see him again. Socially correct response is: "Yeah, of course!"
He then proceeded to tell me that he liked it when girls didn't shave their legs.
Which is. Only the creepiest fucking thing I've ever fucking heard. I might actually go shave.
And he followed it up with The Song of Solomon. *Shudder.*
That is Biblenut code for "I'm asking you about SEX hurhurhur," by the way. For those still reading along at home. I said only, "Yeah, that's next to Psalms or something, right? I'm reading about Moses right now, so that's way in front of me!"
"Oh yeah, Moses. Genesis, right?"
Wrong. ^_^
And about this time, an older lady got on and sat next to him, and thank Christ! She had a Walgreens bag full of medications.
I coulda kissed her right there. My beautiful nutjob rescuing angel. We talked for another thirty minutes about the Bible code and the end of the world. Made her eyes light right up. She liked the end of the world.
Right then, so did I.
I'll be honest, the only thing I really remember from the Song of Solomon is this: at some point, he compares tits to gazelles.
Gazelles. You guys. Seriously. Zeus. Goat tit. Gazelles.
A part of me wonders if this is where the term "bazongas!" got its starting point.
I WANT TO SWING WITH MY EYES SHUT AND SEE WHAT I HIT
(I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me)
My ride gives me time to read. I recently finished In The Company Of Others. It took fifty pages to get interesting, and shares a great deal in terms of character development and theme with Survival.
I just discovered Company was written first, about four years before Survival. It was the dry run for ideas she evidently develops a great deal in the Species Imperative series. There's also a lot more technical polish to Survival--the scenes are tight, almost coiled, around the central tension of the book. You can watch the trap spring as you read about it, which saves the predictable revelation.
I have to be honest; I like Aaron and Malley (Company) much better than any of the characters in Survival; I can't even remember their names.
Her scene construction is incredibly deft. And her ideas/knowledge/sense of how life is formed and what it takes to sustain it are solid and engaging. I wish she'd talk down to us a little less, or at least learn how to manage the difference between "how u form babby" and "selective asexual mitosis" tones--she'll wobble from simplistic to deep jargon within a few paragraphs.
Character is not her strong point. So, no lie, there's points at which I was/am agonizingly bored and skipping around for the next chunk of "good idea! om nom nom delicious idea" writing.
And there's no sex in it, which is a ringingly high recommendation for some.
As I'm recalling it now, I don't think the main pairing (which is a total disbelief-wounding yawnfest, by the way) even kisses. Not even once.
I really wanted to see Aaron dealing with his empathy and inability to touch others in greater detail.
There's a lot to like about Company, but it's a bit ragged and slow-moving, and I want to kill the girlfriend.
There were some great jabs at the entire concept of Starfleet stuffed into the book, though. XD
I also read Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. It was dry, as these tales of spiritual pilgrimages tend to be, but it was a little more absorbing than Confessions for various reasons, and the prosody was interesting. I will be leaving it on my bookshelf that I may continue to brag of having read it. The people who are impressed with such things will be impressed, and the others will give me those puzzled/faintly intimidated looks I get when I ask questions at the end of their presentations after they say "Any Questions?"
You do realize, of course, that "Any Questions?" is the college graduate's way of saying "Well, that's it, thanks!" to end a speech.
I want to know more, darling, don't run away; I have inquiry! Answer me, bb. <3
And I can always tell when they're gonna be a talker. It's part of the reason I've gotten into these big tomes with spacemen on the covers; it stops most of the talkers cold. I'm visibly reading something and it is pretty clearly not their idea of what chatty missy should be reading. It's saved me before.
It stalled him for a good half-hour.
"What you readin'?"
"Science fiction, see?" *Waggle book. Grit teeth. It's like smiling.*
"That's a big book." No shit. It's only an inch and a half thick. "Is it a good book?"
It was, and I was reading it, which you are preventing.
On the other hand. You are in good enough shape to hurt me, and you did not get off six stops ago. This suggests you're going to the terminal. I am also going to the terminal. You could make trouble for me. I have to be nice.
"Oh sure!" *BEAM.* The pure million-megawatt enthusiasm of these two words usually convinces people I'm manic and shuts the conversation down.
It does, and it did. A few minutes pass in silence as I try to remember my place in the book--she made a riot on the station seem dull, somehow, but it was getting good in the parts that were about Aaron and--
"You gonna write a book?"
"No."
"Why not?"
OHMYFUCKINGGODREALLY? Really? Really, life?
I should just whip out, "My brother fucking hanged himself, moron!" but that just makes guys drool, their fingers curling with the urge to touch me, and ask if I need a man in my life.
Here I believe it helps to mention that my breasts have had all my conversations with men for the last sixteen years. Without exception.
Sometimes they talk to women, too, but that's rare. Chickies are scared to look. XD
Anyway, yeah, he's been talking to them for the last five minutes, been saying hello to them with his eyes for the last...where are we, okay, half an hour?...and the best part is, they think I don't notice. Like they're the first guy to ever do it.
Sixteen. Years. Which is clearly how old you think I am, or you wouldn't be popping a semi, Casanova.
So. We are at an impasse.
"I don't have time." Manage a giggle, feeling nothing but tired and old, somehow, knowing I'll do this again in a month, two months, three, forever. "School, you know. College."
I just don't remember details; they all say the same crap.
My "cellphone" number is (area code)-(cellphone prefix)-5309. It has been for years.
They never catch on. Never.
Where can I find a woman like that? GUITAR.
Anyway, he falls for it, and now we're talking When is the best time to call you? like I would ever actually spend SYLLABLES on him of my own free will, out of any sense of choice, nevermind desire.
And I'm thinking, Spin it fast, Jhets, or he'll figure out it's a fake. So we get to the subject of weekends.
Here, I get to tell the biggest lie of all.
"No sir, it's church for me on Sundays!"
Am I going to hell? I'm so tired. I'm actually bored, watching this guy, listening to the drivel pattering out of his mouth; I want to drive my knuckles down his throat, just to see what would happen. Just to hear him make a different noise. Change it up a little.
He's droning on, trying to get into my weekend, and I keep repeating, "church church god's love" like it has anything to do with anything, until the urge to hit him goes away, and somehow without me thinking about it, we're having a conversation.
Or, rather, he is. He's going on at great length about...god, I think.
This is a good topic. People in my area of the country will go on forever about god and Jesus and the Bible, and we're almost halfway to the station; I only need one hour more.
"I'm
Works himself up into a fantastic discussion of why the Pope is the Antichrist. Which is only the stupidest thing I've ever heard, but that's neither here nor there.
GOD BLESS DAN BROWN. HE TAUGHT THE MORONS OF THE WORLD CHRISTIAN CONSPIRACY THEORIES.
THANK YOU JESUS AMEN HALLELUJAH <3
(I recently realized that Mbombo vomiting up the sun, and Ra popping out of an egg and wanking upon the waters to bring forth his children, and infant Zeus surviving by sucking goat tit...NONE of these tales are any LESS ridiculous than--wait for it!--wait for it!--wait'll you hear this one:
a talking snake and an apple being the source of all the evil in the world.
It would be more of a faith crisis if I had more faith left. *Shrug.*)
Did I mention he asked me if I shave my legs?
I was wearing full clothing at the time. Past the ankles. I barely ever even wear T-shirts. Always, always 2/3rd sleeves at least.
Which didn't stop him from asking if I shave my legs.
Of course I don't. I don't have a boyfriend! I'm too fat to wear shorts! Why the hell would I shave my legs? How the fuck is it any of his fucking business?
Don't want trouble. Will never see him again. Socially correct response is: "Yeah, of course!"
He then proceeded to tell me that he liked it when girls didn't shave their legs.
Which is. Only the creepiest fucking thing I've ever fucking heard. I might actually go shave.
And he followed it up with The Song of Solomon. *Shudder.*
That is Biblenut code for "I'm asking you about SEX hurhurhur," by the way. For those still reading along at home. I said only, "Yeah, that's next to Psalms or something, right? I'm reading about Moses right now, so that's way in front of me!"
"Oh yeah, Moses. Genesis, right?"
Wrong. ^_^
And about this time, an older lady got on and sat next to him, and thank Christ! She had a Walgreens bag full of medications.
I coulda kissed her right there. My beautiful nutjob rescuing angel. We talked for another thirty minutes about the Bible code and the end of the world. Made her eyes light right up. She liked the end of the world.
Right then, so did I.
I'll be honest, the only thing I really remember from the Song of Solomon is this: at some point, he compares tits to gazelles.
Gazelles. You guys. Seriously. Zeus. Goat tit. Gazelles.
A part of me wonders if this is where the term "bazongas!" got its starting point.
I WANT TO SWING WITH MY EYES SHUT AND SEE WHAT I HIT
(I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me)
