to know that one is living a moment of intense perfection; the
sensation of drowning in beauty. Also, getting a favorable blurb
on your work from a writer you yourself respect *^_^*
that time is slipping through my fingers, that there is nothing
I can do to stop it - and that perhaps it is my fault
From a Japanese film called "Otogirisou"
(St. John's Wort), scanned out of the FantAsia film festival
booklet. The film was pretty run-of-the-mill, but the atmospherics
of the house were wonderfully creepy. ^_^
Delinked the MP3s on this page for the time being, as per D's request - kekkai's ISP is in the Affected Area. I doubt anyone was dl'ing them in driblets with Getright, but leave off if you were anyway, there's a dear. OTOH if you *must* be looking for music to download (lord knows I get enough of that sort of hit from Google), you can try this site courtesy of Killvern: they have the aforementioned new Gackt single.
Someone - Ragabash methinks - was saying that CLAMP ought to put X on hiatus, as skyscrapers falling aren't going to strike anyone as entertainment for a while... But then, it's not as if the Japanese don't have issues closer to home than NYC and Washington to worry about. They've been getting, what, typhoons? Nikkei hasn't exactly been wine and roses either.
Yes, thank you, I will kindly refrain from harping on the end of the world. Bad habit, I know. XD At least what with the 4,000 FBI agents on the case 24/7, we'll be seeing some resolution before next week. The media moves so fast nowadays that governments have to keep up.
Thursday, September 13, 2001 12:38 a.m.
And to top off the sundae
Twenty minutes of panic as I remembered that Pierre - Pierre of all people, Mr. Assembler Hacker who has no interest in leaving his house for anything outside of class - was supposed to be flying down to NY on Tuesday. Twenty minutes and a freaked-out email before recollection surfaced of hearing him argue with the Graphics professor during my 8:30 class, placing Fearless Game Project Leader squarely in Montreal with a wasted plane ticket. T_T You might think I know enough people down there already without having to hyperventilate over one more, but none of these other folks were winging into da Big Apple because they had to get *my* profit-sharing agreement signed and notarized by the team member who lives on the Jersey side of the Hudson. *My* agreement.
Crisse de tabernaque.
I am only blogging now because people are still coming, and from all over the world at that. Breaking personal records of weblog attendance. Ripple effect from the same massive blogcrawl through random strangers in North America I performed myself this afternoon, I suppose, lookingforeyewitnessaccounts... That and I feel useless - not helpless, useless and stupid - and so I write. Humans are biologically wired thus: if we see it happening with our eyes, and if we hear panic in others' voices with our ears, it happened to us. Thank you therefore, raster scan cathode-tube display screens I was learning about at the moment of impact, because okage de it happened to all of us. By the same impulse, I am actually expecting fanfic. FF7, obviously; GW, probably something like Weiss. This is less tasteless than it sounds. I live in an online community where people mostly deal by writing fanfic. I know people who self-identify as fanfic writers above anything else, so how would you expect them to react? It's like being in the music industry and expecting people to write song lyrics, or in the film industry and expecting people to be putting together documentaries. My religious friends are praying. We do what we do best as best as we can, because we don't want to *feel* useless. So me, I blather freely for you to see.
It really *is* looking like bin Laden, I see, which means more civilian casualties on the other side of the world. As if anyone would bother to evacuate Kabul. As if the leadership wouldn't leave the laobaixing to their fates so they could say American missiles killed more of our innocent than we ever did theirs, and look at their supposedly peace-and-liberty-loving populace crying out for Muslim blood.
I'll shut up now I think, before the paranoid doomsday prophet in me gets the upper hand for good. -__- I've probably been over-upsetting as it is... I've promised myself to wake up tomorrow, attend to my life, do my homework. Social blog if that's what it takes. Hell, I'll talk about Gackt. I have an odd sinking feeling that I'll be associating his newest single with 11/09/01, through no fault but that of happenstance.
Sarah, if you're reading this by any chance, mail me. I wanted to be able to hear you think...
Wednesday, September 12, 2001 04:07 p.m.
All the voices in the world
I'm Canadian. But from New Jersey to Singapore, we're all talking about this one. Ask not for whom the bell tolls: if it does not toll precisely for thee, still this is Montreal, where every anglophone at least knows someone in NYC - and everyone in NYC knows someone who was or should have been in the WTC - and the changes are ringing deafening in our ears. Tania lives in Westmount, stereotypically the wealthy English-speaking financier/professional neighborhood, and when she left for class last morning the borough populace was standing in clumps on its public lawns with cellphones in hand. When you're talking the metropolis a few measly hours down the coast where you go for shopping weekends, you hardly need CNN to bring the psychological impact into your living room.
I'm in a school lab, of course, but the Computer Science Undergrad Society kids have jerry-rigged a stripped-down box + telly with a direct feed off the 'net, and we're watching that. We are Americans, Colin Powell said, we don't walk around terrified. Someone snorted, someone laughed, but we're all glad he said it. Americans are never afraid; that's how it looks to us from the outside, Canadians, Europeans, Asians. You take things for granted, you know what you have backing you up, you know what your people can and will do. If Americans were afraid the world would topple. So what I want now, really want, is for America to find a firm target. I hope that it will be the right target, but someone or other's going to have to pay through the nose or the instability will make victims of us all. I am not an idealist, you understand. I am a pragmatist and a believer in worst-case scenarios, and yesterday my first thoughts were small and cold. The dollar's going to dive. The markets will be pilloried. If panic sets in the world economy'll meltdown. Shit, NYU's right there. Shit, my uncle's girlfriend's apartment is right there. There's going to be a run on bottled water and canned goods. I hope this has nothing to do with China. No Chinese or Russian is dumb enough to do this, it'd be WWIII and I'd be the one interned in a camp. This is religious fundamentalism. Whoever it is is going to be a big fucking crater in the Eurasian continent.
And the quicker it happens the better.
They're telling us in the papers: this is your children's Cuban Missile Crisis. Your grandchildren's Pearl Harbor. I'm no prophet (stop laughing, Tania), but I couldn't stop turning over in my mind a train of thought I had over the weekend: that comparing Bush to Kennedy (as people do) was singularly unlucky in the Chinese sense, since it was karmic invitation to a Bay of Pigs and a Dallas. And then relative to that, if life expectancy in North America is now around 80 years, and we've never gone that long without fighting a large-scale war, why do we plan our lives out as if a war could never happen?
I still feel safe. More cynicism: I wouldn't say the same if I were one of my Arabic friends, or Jewish neighbors for that matter. (Said friends and neighbors know how to calculate their own odds - club rallies are quietly being cancelled and the neighborhood Torah schools emptied out yesterday.) But I have a stone in my stomach, because there'll be repercussions for us all.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001 09:26 p.m.
Why are you even looking at my weblog?... ;_;
Everyone I know seems to be accounted for, both in the NY and DC areas - including the eyewitnesses. My uncle had gone to recuperate in Brussels instead of their flat down a block from the Lincoln Center, thank God. Also thank God: the Chinese aren't and will never be dumb enough to pull this kind of shit (the Russians, reads Tania), and Montreal is way down low on the list of potential terrorist targets. It's selfish, but in times like this one thinks first of one's own, and remembers to be generally horrified the second afterward. I was in class straight from 8:30-11:30. At 11:30 I crossed the street to buy books at the bookstore and bumped into my friend J at the door. When asked where he was going, he said, "To find a radio - the cashiers won't take Visa because the United States is apparently under attack." o_o Sophisticated media-savvy us: we thought hoax. I had to stare at the Yahoo newspage for a good long while before I realized it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't a Hollywood movie either. The people, my God, the fire, the people.
Nothing much is happening here. I wandered around downtown after school and picked up the extra editions. All planes are grounded in Canada as well, and international flights have been rerouted here. The hotels are overflowing. A New Yorker friend of my father's was in town for some exhibit or other; he checked out this morning, went to the airport and they told him *no* flights were going out. So what do I do with my ticket, he asks, not having heard the news. How long do I have to wait?
Quoth the (undoubtedly frazzled) airline lady, "Why don't you ask your President?"
He called my house to tell us this, since there's not now a room to be had downtown for love or money. My mother told him he was damned lucky. T_T
My thoughts with you all, guys. I'm glad you're okay.
Saturday, September 8, 2001 03:39 a.m.
Another day, another party
Another wedding, another incredibly snooty French restaurant with service that makes you feel like the Queen of Sheba. As if *I* have any idea what the wine cork is supposed to smell like (and yes, apparently one of the whites was turned). But the sea bass was excellent; that at least I can tell. XD
I made a bit merry with the wine, too, the refills were so very attentive and unobstrusive. :P Of course, with my unchecked monster rampant of a metabolism I'm assured of any hangover late on the *same* night, so it's hard for me to truly overdo things. But I was in a... romantic? not quite the right word... mood when I got back home, so I ended up putting on one of my father's scratchy tango LPs and practicing el ocho in front of the mirror. Latin dance: the activity wherein you hurt your feet if you're *not* wearing three-inch heels. XD I only have one pair of footwear that fit the bill, the strappy black Anne Kleins that I wore to the prom (ye gods, if only shoes had resale value). They make my feet look like something out of a decadent Weimar fantasia, as long as I divide my *actual* standing time into strategic five-minute increments spaced throughout the course of the evening. My sister (who has a height complex) wants permission to wear high heels to school and presumably for the rest of her life; I told her that if it were up to me, I'd allow her to figure out for herself that the extra inches weren't worth the pain. -_-;
(Then again, she refers to herself in all seriousness as the High Priestess and Founder of the cult of Kuja-ism, so maybe she'll go willingly to her martyrdom. I don't know about Kuja at that, but surely Rociel would say that high heels put one that much closer to the Almighty? XD)
Forget the shoes. The *mood*... I think I know why, and it started at about two this afternoon with a PSoH fic linked off Tin's weblog. (Caveat emptor - Vanity Press breaks my IE *every* *single* *time*. I'm utterly puzzled by this, since I've checked the site from other computers and it doesn't seem any more extravagant than the average weblog. At least Neil Gaiman's has the flimsy excuse of being .asp. -_-) The fic... the fic was a good thing indeed. Based off the anime, meaning that it was far moodier and more serious than the manga ever tried to be, but it was a twice-distilled shot of tanbi for connoisseurs who like their poison straight. The costumes, the steel, the music, the light, the light, the light... Don't have to know the story of the series at-all to grok it. Thank god.
You want to know something? I blame Shioul ML. Japanese (mono no aware) and French (19th-century Decadents) culture in great part, but the credit goes to Shioul. Two years ago I'd never have admitted to anything approaching an intense aesthetic experience in public. Now I use the word tanbi on my *weblog* and expect people to know what I mean. One of these days I'll have to regain the real world, I think. ^^;
*And* answer the actual ML mail. Yeah.
Thursday, September 6, 2001 12:10 a.m.
I was productive today
Although you wouldn't know it from poking about in my online endeavours. ^^; I'm determined to keep myself together the first week of school this year, instead of letting things drag on until I'm nose-deep in midterm projects. I'm also working hard on the commercial website thingum... because I need the money. I owe my mother about 400$CAN altogether - including the new portable CD player I finally got today - and then I'll have to lay out some cash for manga and kekkai, which I itch to contribute to. ^^; There's also the question of coffee-and-pizza change, which is hardly negligeable come semester time.
(The plan: write my gazillion and one upcoming network protocol assignments in C++. What's that you say? I suck at C++ and have no idea what I'm doing? I have my fingers in my ears and can't hear you. La la la.)
Anything new on the sites...? In fact, yes. I re-read what I have of tBD, with the result that I threw up my hands in disgust and delinked it from NnY until I can whip it into respectability. XD Ay, me. Talk about a misguided project from the beginning - I'm certain that Schuldich would've stayed perfectly happy if I'd just gone on writing VoT-style PWPs until I sweated the pairing out of my system, and never mind actual plot. But too late now.
I also mentally soccered around PSoH until it spat out a bunny for the (FIFO) queue, but I don't know that I'd write it. It's good, but it requires me to decide on a Series Theory(tm), and since it's end-of-manga I'd lose every reader but half a dozen in the fandom.
Wednesday, September 5, 2001 04:10 a.m.
And before I get off the box
D: glad you're feeling better. :) I get episodes like that myself, and have found that Getting Something Done pulls me through it nowadays.
The noise re the X OAVs has been generally favorable - for once. ^^; Now if the good ladies'd just give me my Evil!Subaru...
Wednesday, September 5, 2001 03:23 a.m.
School starts tomorrow
I don't even know where my Japanese class is. -_- Ai yai yai... Spent the evening at Tan-chan's, cooking. I still smell like a blend of onions and oregano, grosso modo. It figures, doesn't it, that one of the few dishes I have consistent success with is ratatouille? The beef stir-fry wasn't too bad today either, but I need to perfect the timing on the marinade.
School is going to be heavy-duty this year. I have to check in with my advisor, which is one conversation I'm not looking forward to. They all think I'm mad for attempting the honours program within three years anyway, and I can just picture darling Panagaden's expression when I tell him that I have no idea what to do for the requisite project and no professor willing to take me on that I know of. Ah, the joys of academe. *thumps head against keyboard*
Screw them, anyhow. I'll get the bloody honours - and make a minor in Advanced East Asian Studies at that! - and be out of school by this time next year. Everyone I know either has more than a year to go still, or is applying to grad school - or both. Erin, you're graduating come June, right? That makes two count'em two of us. @_@
Text index is up on NnY. I finally broke down and added a link to Jean D's Dysfunctional Series. I really have to stop following that one - it makes it impossible for me to even *consider* writing a normal WK fanfic - but reading Dys is like being offered cocaine in a salad bowl. You may know for a fact that the stuff is cut with plaster of paris, and yet... She's skipped back to the beginning of the entire dubious saga and is inserting missing chapters, btw. I am quite properly afraid.
Finally added the link to Jeanne's - well, directory - as well. I should wheedle Saiyuuki out of Wasim, if only because every time I come across someone *else's* fic for the series I have to mentally kick myself as a reminder that the charas don't per se belong to Jeanne. (Papuwa was so much easier. XD)
I still owe him Vagrant Story, though. But where I am now, he is *so* not getting it back until I'm done. XD
Tuesday, September 4, 2001 03:41 a.m.
New look for Nikutai no Yume, featuring Tsuzuki and Hisoka - I flatter myself that some originality of thought was involved. ^^; This one'll last me until about November or so, when I can start worrying about the lack of holiday-themed Trigun pics. I have an amusing idea for the next weblog layout as well...
I still have scans to do before I can go to bed. >_<
Monday, September 3, 2001 02:03 a.m.
Well. Not all e-mail. Just a few of the longest and most important ones. There's still ML mail, and a couple of cases where I have to take the initiative but haven't... yet. ^^; Still three hours' worth of responses, though. I also updated the MP3s; as always, the old ones will be up on the archived page for another week.
Sarah: your perception of PSoH is entirely correct, by me. In fact there's an episode in vol.2 or so - "Desire" - that's essentially designed to serve that very purpose. It's one of the more incisively written ones, a moral fable sharp enough to induce anxiety bedwetting in children guilty of mistreating their pets. XD And yes, the lesson generalises to a global context - with a vengeance.
And... repeat after me: it looks fine. It looks fine. Really it does. ^^;