Yet More of the Same

[handful_ofdust]

Two days of the new semester down, and I’ve already done something to myself…actually, probably the same thing that’s been chasing me since late last year: My right shoulder is puffed up, a knot of pain running up the side of my neck/back of my head, my wrist burning, my hand tingly and weak. And as a result (obviously), I can’t sleep. GOD, I’m so damn tired of this shit.

But at least I was able to work out all weekend and today as well, and Steve and Cal are chirpy, and the new bunch don’t seem too much like idiots and/or assholes (at first glance, anyhow). Lilim continues apace, though slower than it should, mainly because of that whole "can’t click a mouse without pain" thang. We went to see Children of Men on Saturday, which really is as good as people say. And I have fresh deadlines coming up, always an energizing thing—Sandra Kasturi and I have officially agreed on the next Loonie Dreadful, the text of which she needs for the end of February, which means I have to write the copy for a nonexistant Tim Darbersmere fanlisting, amongst other things. Plus an outline for the novel that’s supposed to eventually come attached to it…

Meanwhile, Cal is still doing this very odd thing where instead of composing sentences himself, he sort of steals them from the books he reads and uses them almost at random. The other day he saw a dog, and blurted: "DOGS are to KISS people!", which is from A Hole is to Dig. Or you’ll say: "Say bye-bye", and he’ll reply: "Bye-bye, Bobo", which is from Jez Allborough’s book YES!. As agincourtgirl noted, he’s also picking up a bunch of stuff off of TV—things like "Jeopardy!" and "Trebek!", as well as "On Treehouse!" That last makes for strange bedfellows, especially when you’re talking about something completely inappropriate near him ("Man, that kid smells like a pee factory—" "—on Treehouse!" Pee Factory, the new hit kids’ show, with puppets. And pee). It’s like educational Tourette’s.

All right, back to the Lilim grind. And then, maybe, sleep…please, please, fucking please. Tomorrow I go to the doctor’s, hopefully get some more of that anti-inflammatory stuff he gave me last time. Man, I hurt.

Comments

[merricatk.livejournal.com]

Meanwhile, Cal is still doing this very odd thing where instead of composing sentences himself, he sort of steals them from the books he reads and uses them almost at random.

I've been thinking about this ever since you posted it because *I* do that, & have for years. Or, at least, people think that's what I'm doing. The truth is, to me the sentences aren't chosen at random, but I'm the usually the only one who sees the connection. I know there are people who think talking to me is like playing connect-the-dots, only without a pencil...or any actual dots...but it's not random. (And I can control it.) Usually the things I say are chosen because the rhythm of the words matches, if that makes any sense. (I've recently discovered that there are a lot of things I say, or have even used in stories, that came from the old Peanuts strips I read as a kid. Other people's words stick in my head.)

I have no idea if that's what Cal is doing or not. I've never met anybody else who did it (that I know of). And I have no idea what it means. But if it helps any, it hasn't prevented me from holding down the same job for 27 years, or having a quite happy relationship for 25.