Land of the Dead and My Secret, Naughty Writer Fantasy

Today was a good day. I took my linguistics exam, ate at the 50's diner on campus, and came home to watch DVDs. I watched Land of the Dead. As with all Romero zombie flicks, he offered some biting sociopolitical commentary with his gore, playing with the idea of the haves versus the have-nots with particular panache, and also asking pointed questions about the nature of life and living.

( Land of the Dead-Spoilers )

And for the record, I nearly tossed my cookies six times. Jesus God, it was nasty.

I'm most pleased with the reviews for September When It Comes, though sometimes I wonder if some of the rave reviews don't stem from the simple fact that finding a properly punctuated sentence at The Pit of Voles is like finding water in the Gobi. A while without commas and semicolons and subordinate clauses, and a Grammarphile is liable to tear their clothes off in a paroxysm of rapture at the slightest hint of technical competence.

I'm grateful that the first three chapters have earned twelve reviews, and I'm well aware that that is twelve more than some people ever get, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't secretly hoping for a thousand. If I ever get that many, I'm going to strip naked, print them out, and rub them all over my nude body in an orgiastic frenzy.

Farewell, conuly, from the flist.

Autumnal Doldrums

Roomie and I were supposed to see Chicken Little today, but then I flaked and begged off until tomorrow because I didn't want to deal with the bus. Now I wish I'd gone. I could use a respite from the autumnal blues, and really, how can any movie with a mayor named Turkey Lurkey go wrong? Ah, well, there is always tomorrow, and since most inhabitants of Tallahassee will have hied themselves unto the college stadium to worship at the altar of Seminole football, there should be fewer people about. Besides, staying home today will give me time to finally devour the latest CSI tie-in novel, Killing Game.

Speaking of CSI, I received a review for September When It Comes lamenting what the reader considered a dearth of reviews. It was so kind of them to say, but frankly, I am not surprised at all. The Pit of Voles is so enormous that a new story or chapter is quickly buried beneath a tidal wave of new entries. Add to that the fact that the Just In page lists only stories rated K-T, and an M rated story stands little chance of attracting attention. Even less so if the story features an OC.

And let's face it-sex sells. Lemons, slash, and stories rife with UST are hot commodities across all fandoms, and that's just not my bag. I'm an angst monkey of the first water, and I'd rather explore what happens between the ears than what happens between the sheets. I have sexual fantasies by the fingers and KY tubesful, but nobody else needs to be subjected to them. And truthfully, I suspect that graphic descriptions of gimp sex would put a lot of people off their porn.

It's like old people having sex. You know they do it, but you don't want to ponder it at great length.

Besides, a mindfuck is more fun, and it won't give you the itchy, itchy ya-ya.