East Coast Gazette

So this week has been REEEEEEETARDED.  I didn’t finish my manuscript.  (Surprise!)  And between the 5 a.m. wakeups to get to work by 6 a.m. days, I wasn’t particularly surprised either.  I spent most of tonight out with a friend — we took the Greenwich Village ghost tour and got a heft dose of murder and intrigue and then we all got mad at NYU for ripping down Edgar Allen Poe’s house in the West Village.  All of this while gay bumblebee boys in stilettos strolled by.  My plan for this week is to (a) survive and (b) get to the weekend, where I will eat at a diner and write my book and also catch up watching House and NCIS and Chuck and all the shows I have somehow already missed for this week.

I’d do that stalker meme, but a) uh, well, I don’t really want to go sign up and b) I figure it’d be very one sided.  So I’m saying it here to everybody: y’all are awesome, and I love you, and you’re totally like, beautiful on the inside and stuff.

And also, I drank a lot with dinner.

I sort of really want to write a Regency NCIS AU, where young Anthony is trapped caring for his younger siblings (only Timothy and Ziva–aka, Zinnia–now that Caitlin died of fever the year before), and must marry a wealthy woman in order to get Timothy (the rightful heir to their duchy since naturally, Tony is illegitimate) to Eton and Zinna a debut and he works for horrible, crotchety old widower Gibbs, who loathes all but his darling niece Abby and his dearest friend, oddball doctor friend.  Anthony is fabulous at seducing women but nobody wants to keep him, and although he’s made his way through half of the ladies of the ton, or rather, they have made their way through him, nobody wants to make an honest man of him–except possibly Gibbs, who is a Marquis of some wealth and Oh my God this story gets worse the more I try to justify it.  Of course, it could be worse.  I could be writing the SGA version of this where John is being blackmailed into marrying Kolya and Rodney had to stop his wedding, because despite having fallen madly in love with Lady Samantha Carter at house party, he realizes in the end it is John, her enchanting brother and not her to whom he has given his heart ARRRRRGH SOMEBODY STOP ME.  GOD DAMN THESE STUPID JULIA QUINN NOVELS.

If you don’t know where that quote comes from in the title — that just means you should be watching 30 Rock. That’s all I’m saying. Spoilers beneath the cut, also, lots of images.

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By which I mean: damn.  Hits of the week below.

• “naruto and john sheppard are gay for eac” — I have to assume this is “naruto and john sheppard are gay for each other,” and you know what, fandom?  I bet you they are.  They’re just gay for everybody.
• “SGA bad porn” — You have some to the right place, my friend.
• “48 inches of ass” — Damn, dude.
• “Kdrama Somebody something” — Yeah, I loved that one!
•  “”beating me” john rodney “sheppard” “mck” — Um.  Sexy beating?
•  “gaara saw a unicorn” and “gaara saw his very first unicorn ever” — Dear whoever was searching for this: I hope that you find it, and that you find happiness, and that when you do come back from your paradise of Lisa Frank and butterflies and Gaara riding unicorns, you send me the link.  Love, Pru.
• “how to fuck a work colleague” — See: SGA fandom et al.

Yeah, that’s right — the gauntlet has been thrown.

Maybe it’s the fact that VioletSmiles and I have been making fun of lying in the dark listening to Sarah McLachlan’s “Possession” on repeat and carving names into my wrists for the last week (ie: it being Rodney’s favored method of dealing with his convincing himself that Sheppard and Sam Carter are having filthy sex, those whores) but today I suddenly thought, “Hey, you know what fandom I haven’t read/checked in on/written for in ages?  X-Files!”  It turns out that this is because when you do start looking into X-Files fandom again, there’s a really appalling amount that involves (a) Mulder and Scully historical celtic romance, (b) Mulder gets kidnapped and raped by crazed, escaped serial killers he put away during his tenure with VICAP and (c) Mulder and Scully have a huge fight!  He walks out on her!  Into the night!  Where he gets hit by a car!  I’m not kidding.  It’s too bizarre to be a joke.  Also, it’s kind of weird to look around X-Files rec pages where everybody is raving about how awesome Prufrock’s Love is, but referring to her as “Pru,” which makes me knee-jerk go, “What?  What what?” every time I see it in print.  Oy.

And now, incoherent Doppelganger stuff!

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Mostly, I don’t know any of the wank going on on lj anymore (praise wordpress!), but occasionally, people let me know some of it — and all I can say is: oh shit, bitches!  I better cancel the 7th day of 14 Valentines 2008, it’s falling right on Chinese New Year.  You know what that means!  I don’t have to finish writing Arc!  Yay!!!!!!!!

Okay, no seriously, done being mean.  Sort of.  I mean, okay, at least publicly.

Thinking about 14 Valentines kind of makes me break out into hives, mostly because for the first time in literally about six years, I’ve whittled my backlog of half-finished stories to, and I’m not kidding you, 12 that I am even considering completing.  If you’ve seen the 14 Valentines day process before, you know it’s like, battle royale of fics, and whichever one doesn’t keep me interested long enough usually gets dumped and traded out for another — I don’t have that option this year — if I can’t finish Flicker (SPN) or Waltz (HSM) or hell, Arc (AHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHA) for that two week period — I’m fucked.  I hate crapping out at the only (uh, fannishly) deadline oriented thing I do.

Oh, and also, for those of you not reading Jezebel (why not?) or those of you who might have missed this by not having as sick a sense of humor as I do, they wrote up the Rope Fantasies: Cowboys are Good in Bed and Don’t Ever Get the Blues post — which I took one look at and was like, “Well, obviously ‘Jessie’ is just Rodney McKay’s secret identity.”

So.  Some of you may have noticed a year or two ago I started a project called 14 Valentines.  Last year, I put it out to the community at large in a community.  A ton of people participated, it was a great effort by a bunch of really excellent gals — and this year, I’m offering the community up for adoption.  I’d lie and say I have the time/energy/know-how to mod it again, but let’s not lie: I’m not made for management, and I think somebody with better organizational skills than my own will be able to broaden the project even more and enfold more people into its mission.

Which, if you don’t know, is to raise awareness about women in our community of women — and maybe it’s not surprising given that we all write slash, but for a roomful of girls we very rarely talk about ourselves, except for the occasional chain post about NARAL or Wal-Mart pharmacists refusing to distribute contraceptives.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to encourage the production of creative works — for each day of the first 14 days of February and concluding on Valentines Day itself — to drum up awareness of women’s issues, about women’s work, about ourselves.  Get people to start a conversation, and let your art, your stories, your essays, your bibliographies and songs and whatever else you can come up with bring them to cause, and hope that you know, sisterhood keeps them there.

If you’re interested, drop me a line at rageprufrock at gmail dot com, and tell me what your plan would be for the community and the project.  I love 14 Valentines, it’s very close to my heart, and I hope that if you’re volunteering to take on the project, that it is close to yours as well.

PS, for those of you wondering: yes, I will still be participating in 14 Valentines.
PPS, no, I don’t have my line-up yet.
PPPS, seriously, don’t leave your pitch in the comments, I’ll just cross your name right off the list.

So I was cruising around Fleshbot, as you do, and saw this article which made me think, “Oh, holy fucking shit, Dean is never going to let Sam live down the fact that he posed in Playgirl and looked like a goofball doing it.”  Don’t lie, when you see the picture, you’ll think the same thing — uh, full frontal male nudity, probably not work safe.

I know that in the grand scheme of things, humans are pretty shitty — we ruin the planet and are mean to each other and start wars, but when it comes down to it, I love humans, for all our petty, ridiculous faults.  Mostly because when I’m at my most depressed and think everything is impossibly hard, I walk out of my bedroom to see my roommates are lighting a hookah in the living room and painting the walls with blue patterns, and they invite me to join in.  Awesome.