The basic queer essence of Calamity Jane, in pictures. 

Since watching Casablanca, I've had a yearning for old films, especially sexist old films.  I think it's quaint how mindless women were portrayed and handled and passed about in old movies.  I don't support that paradigm, mind you, and I'm not going to go into a Women's Studies analysis of it.  

No, the pleasure I derive from it is "haha, you wouldn't be able to get away with that today!" Anything like that, dated things in films delight me.  And I'd long been meaning to watch films from The Celluloid Closet.  And what do you know, Calamity Jane manages to both be rather sexist AND queer all in one! I loved it!

A cute butch-femme domestic montage ("A Woman's Touch") and the infamous "Secret Love" (wherein Jane returns to wearing pants and sings about a love she hid and now is free), and the dressing room scene where Jane pins Katie to a wall, eagerly offering to help her undress.  And astounded by her prettiness. 

It's a cute little musical aside from all of the camp, anyway.  I didn't find the Lieutenant character redeeming or interesting at all, which shocked me because I have a natural bias for pretty men types in tidy uniforms.  In fact, I would have been happy if he'd been written out of the story entirely.  Which would kill the story, admittedly, you'd have no one for Katie to marry except for Jane and Bill, and the west unfortunately wasn't so wild back then.  

I want to watch a lot of old movies.  I want to watch a Doris Day and Rock Hudson flick, but Pillow Talk doesn't look very interesting.  A very darling friend of mine has recommended I watch Double Indemnity.  

Deep down, I suppose I'm just a little wistful and sad.  And if I look back into an older, more innocent imaginary world, then maybe I'll find my own innocence looking forward.  

The arrest, as far as I can imagine, involved a crazy babbling limping old feminine faced man pounding on some stranger's door and refusing to leave, asking for her "slutty lesbian niece". The car was later searched and was found to contain boxes and boxes of high-heeled shoes, corsets, panties, wigs, dresses, butt plugs, dildos, and high-definition video equipment. Additionally, a small quantity of illegal Viagra was in the suspect's possession.

This knowledge is a reward unto itself.

See... the thing about my benefactor is that she was creepy. And I have been collapsing lately due to malnutrition and exhaustion. I'm in no condition to go trolloping around in a high stress, fast paced city with someone who is so intimidatingly demanding. Were I not so weak overall, I could manage it, but at this time I need to recover. I can hustle when I'm in better health. The last straw was when she told me she looked up my "intellis" and was on my way to my house and found out personal information, like that I'm actually 23 years old. I have no idea what other poor unfortunate soul she has tracked down with my name. I never told her where I actually live, because I was absolutely afraid she'd come after me, pounding on my door sometime... and lo and behold, that's what she ended up doing.

I have other contacts to go to Vegas with sometime. (I has a Dan. An employed one, at that!)

For now, I finally got some new prescriptions, the ones that I've been waiting on for so long, and even on an empty stomach, Wellbutrin is making me feel fantastic. I've missed you, Wellbutrin! Got some Mambles too, but those are for later. I really love the extent of my pharmaceutical knowledge, and talking to professionals in the medical field really love being able to shoot the shit about weird pills like Paliperidone which is physically not digestible, and trying to figure out what drug is the modern Quualude... various red tapes that people have to get through to get barbituates and how political the medical profession really ends up being. And I love that my doctor is a unionized actress and a patron of the arts and makes such a killing off it that she only works two days a week from like... 2-6 PM. Seriously, that's the most awesome schedule ever. If you ever make that much money from that little work, you're doing it right.

Oh god, the break up was OVER TWITTER and she posted THIS.  This is my new dysfunctional OTP.

W-what?! Okay.

Based on a little less than 80 words, I pounded out a little over 1000 words, in a little over 45 minutes -- and make it look damn good.  So for every word of structure, I can squeeze out about 13 words of elaboration. This does not include any editing or fine tuning.

A "novel" length story, as widely defined by the internet, is 50,000 words.  Many aspire to accomplish that 50,000 length work in thirty days, in a Project Which Will Not Be Named.  A structure in which this is a more attainable goal is one in which a writer composes approximately 1,666 words a day -- or to be safer, 2000 words a day, for 30 days.

Do you get where I'm going with this?

If I require an 80 word structure for 1000 words, with a ratio of 1:13 for elaboration upon said structure, I should then perhaps require a structure of 160 words per 2000, a projected ideal cost of an hour and a half of my life per day.  Necessary for a novel-length work, it follows, is a structure of 4,800 words.  (Speculated ideal cost of composing such a structure... five hours of my life total?).

One hundred days from now until November 1st, 2008.  Thus, 2400 hours.  Within 2400 hours are 480 instances of five hour spans of time wherein one could possibly construct an outline for a novel.

Hmm.

Mm. I am in a strange mood lately, creative, but altogether useless. I'm mysteriously pumping out poems and one-shots and the two focal themes seem to be sapphistry and bacchanal; sometimes both, sometimes just one. I have revamped my journal layout at last, tiring of my sloppily constructed haven of the lord shaper and wings; instead... well..

Sappho and ornate shapes. "Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables", she said. I feel like it flows nicely along from my last layout. I feel a wave of romanticism coming over me soon. I delight in it, want to drown in intensity of feeling. It will inspire me to greatness or destruction, as usual, I hope. But for my writing, ah --

It is like there is nothing but psychedelia and female homophilia right now. Strangely, two subjects I have little experience in. Yet, they will not leave me alone... What I wouldn't give to live in the 1960's, sometimes, where I probably belong. There is also the task of poet-translators at hand, made easy by my bilingual volume of Neruda. I will read it, then read it again and make a vocabulary list. If a Dutch girl can learn informal English by watching MTV, I can learn poetic Spanish by reading Neruda. I find that I have forgotten most of the Spanish I had attained in Spain -- I can no longer converse with the workmen down the street, alas.

I am almost certain that pretending I am Queen Iono has contributed to my recently pleasant and outgoing attitude as of late. Perhaps that is the source of the perversion and affection as well.

I wonder what it means that I hide so much more from you than you do from me; that I actually have traps you wouldn't want to stumble into, while you are completely upfront in everything, to a greater capacity than I would ever give myself. Does that make me unworthy or dishonest? I suppose in a way, I'll always be unattainable... perhaps unfathomable. As long as you are content with me, I will continue as I am.

Dear Simon Tam,

Please love me!!!

xx,
Applicant 3451328: seraphicideals-----

Tonight Charlie took me to sushi and I ate so much.  This entire getting locked out of my house thing is exactly what I needed; pure irony.  First I refused to even leave my room, and now I can't even see in the window, and yet I don't mind so much.  I was sad that Charlie and I have hardly seen each other lately and now I'm practically living with him.  I couldn't live with Charlie because he couldn't afford it and now I'm here in his bed.  We were professing how much we missed aimless adventure and now I'm aimlessly lazing about without any idea of what's next or how i am to get home.  I do miss my bed, and my cats, and my own computer dearly, but it will all be back again soon enough. 

I will look back upon this time when I am older and laugh at my own total lack of accountability.  Mostly I miss having access to my gaming related materials, and hope my cats aren't starving or sad. 

I was going to go see Spider-man 3 tonight, but there wasn't enough room in the car of Charlie's frat brothers.  I will be steeped in gay tomorrow night, with drinking and probable debauchery. 

Speaking of debauchery, I totally just came up with content for my new guest article-ing today; an ongoing feature.  I must get home soon and prepare for it.  I am wearing several components of my adventure outfit; my lolita skirt at least. 

While Charlie purchased a Nintendo DS for his mommy, and got cajoled into buying many many games by the sales clerk, I meandered through the store and contemplated all sorts of theft and misdeed, but mostly I was quite tired from malnutrition.  Deciding that I didn't feel particularly criminal today, I went back to the games section and started to play DoA 4.  I chose not to play as one of the classic DoA girls, as that's all anyone does, but instead found myself intrigued by this lovely short haired blonde woman; a tad butch, really...but lately I've gained a fondness for that aesthetic (Haruka, anyone? Utena? Yum).  I learned how to kick ass with her generally enjoyed her for about 7 stages.
until i realized Eliot wasn't a girl.  Lack of boobs didn't get to me (I suppose I should've remembered this was DoA).  The voice was high, face pretty...figure not all bulgey muscled.

D:  I seriously got trapped.  I would use my Gay For Faris icon here, were I at my own computer.  Like dear god, I really didn't know, and wouldn't have known unless that chick in the leather pants called him a lovely boy and he said "It'd be tough to beat someone as pretty as you." and I was all "eeee lesbian tension and she must pass really well lol.  wait....WUT?" and I died a little inside.  I really, truly was trapped.  I even hope a little inside that he pulls a King and suddenly is revealed to be a chick with bouncing bosoms. 

If Admiral Ackbar was here this never would have happened.  ;-;

Shane is like that sullen teenage prettyboy that we all kind of had a crush on for a while before moving onto better things, except in idealized lesbian form.

Gah.  *salivates*

Idealized lesbian form = Not having to move on.  FUCK. 

Everyone knows it's so the Shane show, she's like the darlingest of darling characters.  Mygod. *WANTS*

Savanna says that everything about Shane just screams "dyke"! AHAHAHAHA!!

(At last, a good use for this icon!)

I want to gnaw her...

Here, have a hotlinked picture! :D



*desire*