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Still completely, brainlessly, tired, although ten hours of sleep at least helped a bit. I'm probably being a wimp, but I'm simply not cut out for something like 48 hours of work/week. Especially not 48 hours of having to be nice to people. (It's that you can't get away from that, or them, what's so horribly draining. Someone walks up to you and wants something, and you have to be available, you have to be friendly, you have to smile and do your best to get them whatever they want; and you have no control over that at all. It's killing me by the end of the week.) Most especially not four weeks in a row. Maybe I'll manage a short walk later to get my mind off things.

Finished Galilee and started rereading Sacrament, which I think might still be my favourite CB novel, and not only because of nostalgic associations. Although... I don't have much of visual imagination, and tend to forget what characters in books look like the moment I've read the description (which is why, however often I might reread Maurice, in my head Clive still is and probably will always be the dark-haired one), but for some reason I always picture Jacob Steep a bit like TR in the The Perfect Drug video. Not that I ever even liked the song very much, but there it is.

Rosa McGee was also the username I had the longest before I became solitary_summer, even if I kind of suspect that plenty of people didn't even know it was a pseudonym, and most of those that did probably assumed I picked it for very different reasons than I actually did, which is the conclusion of the story, both Rosa and Jacob finding out that they're two parts of the same entity, and it was only being forcibly divided and having lost knowledge of that fact that caused all that cruelty and suffering and assumption of gender stereotypes.

And while I'm waxing nostalgic about my embarrassing internet past (saved my depressed emo poetry from my old soon-to-be-defunct-and-good-riddance geocities website recently, *le sigh*...), I was Rosa McGee the whole time on the Marilyn Manson BBS - which is where I'm pretty much falling over myself to add that I never was that much of a fan at any point, even if I did like Antichrist Superstar and Mechanical Animals - probably because the first is at least half NIN, and the latter half Bowie. But then a lot of the people there weren't; plenty of NIN fans, and anyone who remembers the access section on nin.com ca. The Fragile I think would agree that this wasn't a format that encouraged anything approaching an actual conversation, tool fans, etc., and by the time the official BBS became first uninhabitable and then closed down, and someone, I can't remember who, opened the unofficial BBS, it was mostly, Manson? meh, from the pre-Holy Wood crowd.

Fun times though, and it was an interesting place to be at the time, although I'm not so sure what it says about me that this was pretty much where I got my internet socialisation from. But the theology thread certainly was epic.

And the (very public BBS sex, but it wasn't just that; grump had *I was part of THE BBS EXPERIENCE with people I love, 7/4/01* in her signature for months; I still have the pages saved...) campfire thread on the unBBS, which was a different kind of special, and I still regret losing track of those people when that BBS finally went down too; especially grump, whom I definitely had a crush on, but who was real-life involved with rictus, which is something you never really expect when you're sitting behind your computer on the other side of the pond. We still exchanged mails for a while, but I eventually stopped because I was slipping into another bout of depression and self-worthlessness. She's not the only person I've lost of these issues, and maybe I should learn that lesson eventually; but half of the time I still believe that I haven't anything to offer to people that matter to me.

I love livejournal, but sometimes I miss being part of a community instead of playing the exhibitionist on my metaphorical veranda...


I need to get outside. Now. More importantly, I need to locate my brain.


solitary summer

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