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juushikaEntertainment I'm taking with me on a three day trip to Ashland: Gameboy Color with Pokémon Crystal; Steppenwolf, Herman Hesse; Ambrose Bierce short story collection; Zune and my shiny new headphones; two Moleskines and 8-pack of colored pens. This is ... pretty normal, actually.
Woke up early today and thought I'd stay up, do some mending to my favorite skirt so that I could take in on the trip, possibly even finish packing. What a perfect time to watch a Doctor Who episode for some diversion before I set off for a family weekend! Which would all be well and dandy if I didn't happen to be at Season 1, Episode 9: The Empty Child. I've mentioned before (but damn if I can find it now) that visual media scare me more than almost any other form—because I don't visualize, and so I rarely create scary images from anything that I, for example, read, and the scary images I see in film are all the more effective. I don't know if I've mentioned before that my biggest fear—which is less oft triggered but even stronger than my phobia of spiders and insects—is life where life should not be. If it's humanoid/living enough to have a face but mechanical enough that it shouldn't be alive, and moves or talks or blinks, gah, it makes my skin crawl. It's a sort of essential wrongness, in my head: a travesty of nature.
So now I'll watch a creepy episode about a creepy child that can possess electronics and machines like, oh god, creepy clapping monkey toys, and it's six in the morning and the sun's not up and everyone in the house save for me is asleep. This is such a wonderful idea.
Damn if the episode's not compelling, though. The atmosphere is so perfect for my mood these days—and since little else is (Dev and I went book shopping yesterday—or tried to, because Borders had a total of none of the books on my Halloween-ready atmospheric autumnal gothic TBR list. Man, how I wish I lived near Powell's. It seems only a city of books is large enough to contain the sort of novels—obscure and small print, or semi-obscure and classic—that I want to read) I shall not look this gift horse in the mouth, I am indeed glad to have received it, but oh god possessed clappy monkey toy don't do that.
My skirt looks much better with the holes patched up.
Woke up early today and thought I'd stay up, do some mending to my favorite skirt so that I could take in on the trip, possibly even finish packing. What a perfect time to watch a Doctor Who episode for some diversion before I set off for a family weekend! Which would all be well and dandy if I didn't happen to be at Season 1, Episode 9: The Empty Child. I've mentioned before (but damn if I can find it now) that visual media scare me more than almost any other form—because I don't visualize, and so I rarely create scary images from anything that I, for example, read, and the scary images I see in film are all the more effective. I don't know if I've mentioned before that my biggest fear—which is less oft triggered but even stronger than my phobia of spiders and insects—is life where life should not be. If it's humanoid/living enough to have a face but mechanical enough that it shouldn't be alive, and moves or talks or blinks, gah, it makes my skin crawl. It's a sort of essential wrongness, in my head: a travesty of nature.
So now I'll watch a creepy episode about a creepy child that can possess electronics and machines like, oh god, creepy clapping monkey toys, and it's six in the morning and the sun's not up and everyone in the house save for me is asleep. This is such a wonderful idea.
Damn if the episode's not compelling, though. The atmosphere is so perfect for my mood these days—and since little else is (Dev and I went book shopping yesterday—or tried to, because Borders had a total of none of the books on my Halloween-ready atmospheric autumnal gothic TBR list. Man, how I wish I lived near Powell's. It seems only a city of books is large enough to contain the sort of novels—obscure and small print, or semi-obscure and classic—that I want to read) I shall not look this gift horse in the mouth, I am indeed glad to have received it, but oh god possessed clappy monkey toy don't do that.
My skirt looks much better with the holes patched up.
