Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard.
Where anything goes.
-//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7
|
|
Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard. Where anything goes. -//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7 |
|
|
Saturday, April 24, 2004 What happy doings did we do today? With happy counting let us count the ways. Went back to school for *surprise, surprise!* not to watch Chorale at work again, but to watch Artists' Jam as organised by the Creative Writing Club of which I have the honour of being a member, now an alumnus of. Sounds great, eh? Too bad my taste in literature in the form of prose and poetry is barely similar to the large majority of the people present, as evinced from my sharp divergence from the common agreement when I was 'invited' to serve as a judge for the best piece of writing. Oh come on, you know me (or rather, at least my taste in literature)! I only like poems that rhyme ... not to say that I like all poems that rhyme, nor to say that I dislike all poems that do not rhyme. I'd probably do best if someone was looking for a poem with the best rhyme and meter, since that was what I capitalised on most of the time, and especially considering how in some people's efforts to rhyme they end up contorting the meter horribly (and with bad rhymes, as well) producing a distasteful piece of work which so discourages the rest of the world from appreciating pieces in rhyme. In prose I look for, in that order of diminishing importance, plot, character and language, many apologies to Mr. Purvis (not that he would ever forgive me for thinking otherwise from his teachings) and even so, my favours for 'plot' often go to the serious and commonsensical, not romantic (read, Romantic) or sentimental drivel that so often fills the pages of modern plot-oriented texts, whatever few there are. Plus, I have a knack of being picky over spelling and grammar mistakes. VERY picky, especially when the 'mistakes' are genuine, not having a hint of intention about them. One phrase that had me rolling in glee at the cleverness of it, in a piece of descriptive writing, was 'intentional or no', a jibe at any reader if I ever saw one. But what authority have I, as a J3, to place any evaluations on the writings of people only a year, sometimes barely months my junior? Never mind that many people out there have done it already. I'm not worthy ... *rolls on the floor and grovels to all the people she has wronged over writing in some way or another, with the exception of Charles Dickens, Mary Ann "stuff the George!" Evans, Seamus Heaney, Eugene O'Neill and other assorted imbeciles*. Anyway, thanks for the read, everyone who contributed to the programme that day, because whether it was clever and ingenious or not, thought-provoking or stale and flat, either way it was good entertainment to me, one not moulded (yet) into the casts of what defines good writing and what does not. Other things? Hmm ... bought plenty of lollipops today, out of some strange sugar cravings, and devoured three consecutively while watching Artists' Jam, flooding my system with sugar to the extent that my teeth began quivering in the anticipation of being yanked from my mouth by a delighted dentist. My teeth (apart from one twisted canine) are largely fine, albeit stained a permanent pale yellow (eeeeek!), it's just that my gums are horribly strained from the immense chattering I put my jaw through every day. Going to Orchard Road three weeks consecutively has dealt me a flurry of rather unfortunate incidents, so I shall resolve not to return there for many a week. Yes, that means no books from the resourceful Orchard library, but allow me time enough for my exasperation to simmer off. posted by Charlotte | 4:35 pm (0) comments Friday, April 23, 2004 Missed a post ... fell ill with the gastric flu again. Is that the only kind of illness I get nowadays? Eheh, touch wood, but you would expect some variety in the diseases that you have a high variety of contracting more than once. That excludes all seriously nasty afflictions like AIDS, cancer, arterosclerosis and acute muscular dystrophy because it's unlikely that you'll survive past the first bout of it, assuming that you can actually survive it. Argh! Gastric flu, a most wasteful disease. I say that because gastric flu does what it does, makes you expel the contents of your digestive system, which might once have been edible matter, in either direction. Regurgitation or diarrhoea, and either way, it's a waste of good food (that you paid good money for!) just to expel it before you get to digest it. And since we're not ruminants, not cows or rabbits, we don't find particular joy in attempting to re-consume such horribly mutilated matter. Don't tell me if you do. Please don't. Anyway, I confess that I hardly wrote for most of today, because having a spinning head doesn't make it very comfortable to gaze at electric lighting of any sort. Instead, deciding to indulge in some rather flippant endeavour, I attempted to draw a picture. Just a person. I call it "Don't just smile". Not a bad attempt, if I say so myself, it's just that it's really difficult to draw hands. I can't do it ... too difficult. Now you know why all those animators make cartoon characters with only a thumb and three fingers. I definitely need to filch one of those 'how to draw *whatever*' books from somewhere ... but I could do without the shame of anyone seeing me borrow it. I really love (did I say how much I love?) the Tactics art ... everyone has no nose! It's also not particularly difficult to reproduce it, judging from the wealth of FFT fan art on the internet. You don't even need to shade parts of people's faces differently (when colouring) to make people look good with no nose. I believe it, cartoon characters look better with no nose, and if only we hadn't got used to the idea of people having massive, bloated protuding peaks of noses we'd all love flat and nonexistent noses. The only faults in cartooning with no nose (based on my evaluations of FFT fanart) are that characters' faces seem to be oversized due to the larger space between eyes and mouth, this can be compensated by enlarging the characters' hair (as done in FFT itself) or simply cutesying up the whole character (as seen in most humorous fanart). If one wants to avoid either of these 'solutions', the other problem that presents itself is the limited perspective by which you can draw a no-nosed character without making it look too bloated, and that means artists are limited to 3/4 (as opposed to full-faced) portraits and less. Other artists simply add a small line or triangle for the nose, the most common option among the great majority of people, who have not discovered the joy of cartooning with no nose. Today someone told me that I should get to like some boys. I told him to get stuffed. We needn't have talked, it seems that all we did was say the same thing to each other. posted by Charlotte | 4:14 pm (0) comments Wednesday, April 21, 2004 Ah, yes, the word I wanted to use, but it never actually came to my head, 'hubris'. Though I find it a rather distasteful word since filthy anti-cloning, bioengineering, stem-cell research and biological whatever people enjoy using it very much. Man was created in the image of God (and likewise, the other half of us were created in the image of the Goddess) and as far as pathetic, minute single-celled organisms are concerned, Man is as good as God. Viruses don't count, however. But when man tries to mess around with dear old mother Earth (yah, take that you chauvinist pigs!) she'll come right back around to show them who's in charge. Or, at least, the extent to which whomever is in charge. Due to a lack of anything interesting to say, you might like to know that the best way (as opposed to what I said earlier) of inducing noisy construction work next door, is to post about it on the internet about how nice and wonderful it is when it has stopped. Grr. posted by Charlotte | 4:37 pm (0) comments Tuesday, April 20, 2004 Oh my good lard! The terrorists have struck Singapore! Well, I (obviously) don't know whether it was a terrorist attack, or just an honest and ultimately fatal accident, but it certainly looks like Al-Qaeda or Abu Sayyaf or Jemaiah Islamiyah (nope, not Jurong Institute, unfortunately) managed to pull off a real shocker right in the midst of our oasis of safety ... no longer! So you thought that they would stop at cutting off the power supply for several hours on end? Here we go! I'm surprised at two things, firstly, that only construction workers were hurt in the accident. If you've ever been to Nicoll Highway, you'll know that it's a seriously busy road, plus it's on the way to Suntec City (from the East, at least), so it's usually teeming with vehicles, if nothing else, the numerous bus services that ply the route. But seemingly, no vehicles were caught in the collapse. What luck? A rather shocking coincidence to me, especially considering that two of the bus services passing through there, which I ride often and probably will do at the next convenient opportunity, happen to stop right outside my estate. I'm not saying that it would be better that vehicles were caught in the accident, it's just that I find it surprising that none were. The second surprise, however, is that it took until now for a serious accident to occur in the process of expanding the mass transit system underground. The North-East line was set up without incident, apart from the hordes of protestors picketing outside Buangkok station demanding that it be opened, as was the Woodlands extension to the North-South line. Is it third time unlucky, or is it an accident just waiting to happen? Seeing the degree of invasiveness of the construction works and the disruption it causes to the smooth flow of traffic, as anyone living near the North-East line would attest to, gazing at the rows of boards put up to conceal gaping trenches dug into the earth like scars, the groan and whine of cranes and other construction vehicles, and generally the unpleasant aura that surrounds such unsightly developments ... I confess that one almost wishes that something, anything would happen, to demonstrate to those arrogant people who claim to know, and to contort Singapore's development plan like their hand that there are limits to thier power, that their will is not absolute. That Singaporeans will never strike back, but one day Singapore will. National disasters seem to give me a kick, a shot in the arm of energy and inspiration. I do recall feeling that same way on the night of September 11th 2001. Or is it just the coffee? (Note, dear readers. Charlotte wishes no harm on anyone ... well, at least on none of those innocent and helpless construction workers who are merely doing what they're told, and paid to do. Charlotte would also like to applaud the terrorists responsible, if any, on their ingenuity in targeting the construction site of a major road (hey, who would have thought of flying planes into buildings, eh?) resulting in its closing off for up to a year, exacerbating the traffic situation already plaguing Singapore. I just don't have it in my heart to condemn ingenious people, since we live in a country that encourages entrepreneurship and creativity. However, the next time she is caught in a horrible traffic jam on bus 10 or 14 at Mountbatten Road, she will remember you, and hate you with a vengeance.) (Note again, dear readers, Charlotte's rather nonchalant attitude toward the plight of these underground mass transit construction works is a reflection of her intense resentment and hatred for the Circle Line, the one currently being constructed and the one utterly debilitated by this recent disaster. This is because she finds it most illogical that the so-called Circle Line travels all the way up north to Bishan, and yet the government has chosen to terminate the eastern extension only as far as Paya Lebar, totally ignoring the populous and popular district of Marine Parade which is in dire need of an improvement in its public transport system. And taking a train, non-stop, all the way from Harbourfront to Buona Vista must be one of the most horrible tortures the government can ever inflict innocent mass transit commuters with.) I'm turning into an environmentalist urban planner. That is bad. Really bad. The world already has enough of those miscreants. posted by Charlotte | 4:56 pm (0) comments Monday, April 19, 2004 - War of Words, Part XI - With my hands cupped over my ears, I dashed headlong down the corridor, heedless of anything regardless of fact or fiction, even my own status (by default) as a prisoner on the death row. Heck, there were no guards in my path to stop me, so, in this moment of madness, why did that matter? Foolishly enough, as expected of anyone acting irrationally (ironically enough driven insane in the quest for rationality) I had not the slightest idea what I where I was heading toward or what I would be meeting on the way there, and I soon came to a most unexpected obstacle in the form of none other than a heavy wooden door blocking my egress forward. Regardless of whether it was locked or not, or whether I was allowed through, the point is that upon encountering the slightest resistance I finally fell upon the inadvisability of running recklessly through the dim lamp-lit halls of a largely unused town hall ... and getting lost within. "Hey, you, girl! Get back here!" yelled a voice grown hoarse from continuous exertions, belonging to a certain middle-aged man wearing a rather silly hat, "You'd better not be trying to escape, because I'm on you!" "Charlotte, good Xkwyr! Stop there! Cease and desist!" commanded another, the tremble in the middle of an otherwise slick and cultured voice betraying the obvious bewilderment and confusion in Pwyns Xjrmynq, sorely distressed at the loss of his most able (and only) advisor, "Do not harry this poor man and encumber him more than he already is!" Encumber him? What rot! Did you even understand (of course you didn't ...) what he was saying to me? As the shock of my disorientation overcame the passion that had driven me to so mislead myself, I tremulously attempted to retrace my steps, my teeth already chatting out of nervousness, aware of the recklessness of what I had just done. Thankfully, however, the path I ran as I remembered it lacked any junctions or deviations, and the simple process of backtracking led me, with no great effort, to the pair of my captor and my master. Though which was which, interestingly enough, was unpleasantly unclear. Panting a little as we met, even though the distance traversed was not particularly long, I braced myself for the torrent of reprimands that was sure to issue from either of the two men before me. "You, dear lass ... you'd better not try that again ..." huffed Io Aoi as he straightened his hat which had seized the opportunity to nearly break free during his chase, "Or I assure you, adorable as you are, I'll have the two of you fiendish foreigners bound and gagged and trussed up before you're loaded onto my carriage!" "Charlotte, that was most uncalled for ... most unbecoming in any dignified young lady," wheezed Pwyns Xjrmynq while tugging at his collar, his fatigue certainly, by far, even more unbecoming of the heir apparent, "We cannot allow our noble quest, our mission of peace and unity, to be troubled by something as irresponsible as childish impetuousness!" I guess stupidity and ignorance are not so great of sins for nobles and politicians, seeing as to how many of them are resplendent examples of either. "Right, I am sorry, I got somewhat carried away there ..." I attempted to apologise, knowing that, with both understanding me, I would not be required to apologise to each of them individually, and also knowing that whatever I said had to make sense to either, else I would have those same charges of nonsensical babbling levelled back against me. "But honestly, it was all in good faith *shrug*, I just meant that the time for conversation is past, and now that we know of our destination we should hurry to the carriage, and depart with haste!" "Typical wench, acting all business-minded just to avoid trouble ..." hissed Io Aoi sneeringly as he gave a snort of contempt, turning about to leave while keeping a close eye on me, "Then come along, and don't you dare break for it again." "Excellent! If I would chide you on your occasional slip, it is imperative that I similarly praise you for your strengths, your objective-oriented nature being most worthy of my admiration!" affirmed Pwyns Xjrmynq with a nod of approval deep enough to be a bow. However, upon noticing this unusual gesture, and hearing it accompanied by words he could not understand, Io Aoi shot the young prince a rather odd stare, which was sufficient to jolt the poor man out of his gentility and into meekly following his captor like an obedient serf. Despite being our temporary master and dominator, however, Io Aoi seemed about just as clueless as to how to navigate the massive town hall, the secretary originally having directed him to our room (and, for good reason, being less than willing to guide him back out again). However, basing his judgement on the conclusion that because I had wilfully darted down the corridor and, not coming to any intersection, had reached a dead end, logically, all that one needed to do to find the exit was to head in the opposite direction. And that, we did do, although Io Aoi in his idiocy found a desire to try certain doors, only, as we found out later on, to find a bathroom with a convenient face mirror wherein he could straighten his tilted hat. "No, really, seriously! The two of you!" cried a distraught voice loudly, echoing down the cavernous corridors, "You've just explained to me about that strange man, and yes ... I understand you ... but that girl! She doesn't look too much younger than me!" "It was necessary ... absolutely, definitely, utterly," grunted a voice somewhat unperturbed by the former's distressed expressions, "That girl was armed, and willing and ready to fight, and fight she did! It wouldn't be safe to leave such a rapacious child around unlocked, she might just grab something convenient at hand, and ... without this suit of armour, who would know?" "Did he say capacious? He meant, of course, capricious ..." gibbered a third all too desperate to appease the charged emotions of the first, "I mean, you saw it yourself, that girl is ingenious! Doing strange things with a sword, that no one could ever have dreamed of ... although I admit, we forgot to state that death was the fate of traitors, not an option which excluded surrender ..." "But ... both of you! Grown men! And you would interrogate a kid, a little girl, in a jail cell?" insisted the first, a tinge of choler creeping into her naturally jittery tone, "What's wrong with the two of you? You saw ... you knew that she was willing to listen to reason, more so than that other guy you had to drag kicking and screaming into a room. You men can't even treat a child, let alone a grown lady with respect! You should be ashamed of yourselves!" "It was justified," snarled the second, "The law shall bend for no man ... or lady or child or any combination of the above." "It was acceptable," stammered the third, "We did explain the situation to her ... and she was above the minimum age for imprisonment ..." "You're right, fellows! No leniency should be accorded to any lady, or child ("or any combination thereof") because there is no evidence that they are any less dangerous than us men," asserted Io Aoi bossily as he strolled into the reception area, with the two of us in tow. Noticing a dirty glance shot at him almost immediately by the outraged secretary through her monocle, he merely smirked, and lifted an eyebrow. "But let me tell you that I like dangerous ladies no less than the tame ones ... it's just an acquired taste, that's all ..." The horrified and disgusted lady folded her arms over her chest, quickly averting her eyes to shield herself from that confounded chauvinist, but not before darting her eyes to me for a moment to ensure that I was all right, the reassurance thereof bringing a smile of relief to her lips for a fleeting moment. In the meantime, however, the pair of armoured guards accosted us, as they probably would have me if I had happened to sprint down the correct passageway, and while one kept a dilligent watch over us captives the other handed Io Aoi some items of note, such as documents, some provisions, and, interestingly enough, that very same worthless and unwieldy ceremonial sword which I had actually fought, or imagined fighting a battle with. "Phwoar! What is this ... thing?" Io Aoi gasped as he received the hideously heavy blade from the hands of that slightly more amicable guard, a spearman who carried it effortlessly in both hands, and nearly crashed to the ground in first sampling of its awesome ... weight, "What monster of a man had the strength ("and the imbecility ...") to bring such a massive thing into battle?" "No man, good sir, but that monster of a girl herself! Wielding that weapon with the deftness of an executioner, she sought to defy us for a very long time!" growled the guard watching us, his halberd left leaning against the lounge wall. I felt deeply flattered, for I understood that this man's gruffness might merely have been a wall to hide his appreciation of my ability in combat. "There is no need for you to imagine what might happen if she laid hands upon a true weapon inside your carriage! With you unarmoured and unguarded! Would you have us restrain the captives and force them onto the carriage for you?" "No, Uae, I'm telling you!" snapped the secretary, her face washed over with a dirty, black look, "If you dare lay a hand upon that girl again, I'm going to step over there and give you a thrashing you won't imagine, armoured as you are!" "Though you might enjoy a tickle from being thrashed by a weak little lady," chortled Io Aoi as he nudged his tilted hat with the tip of his finger, a gesture so impossibly contemptuous that the now raging secretary had to clutch her right arm which was trembling with anticipation, ready to pummel the living daylights out of him. On my part, I could have given him a swift kick up the rear to send him spiralling face-first onto a carton of soft, mushy pastry, but I desisted. "Your offer's most kind, no less good sir, but I don't think I need to take it up. They seem cooperative enough as it is, apart from that girl's loud mouth ..." Grr ... you bloody little man ... those must have been the thoughts I shared with the lady across the room, though only she looked sizeable enough to unleash upon Io his just desserts. "That's right, my partner ... such measures aren't necessary. If the girl is to be believed, being brought to the Palace is expedient to their causes," assured the spearman amicably, as he tied a knot (with gloved fingers!) over a last box of eatables. I felt reassured for the completion of Pwyns Xjrmynq's cause, for while people may have been polarised by hate they still retained their good nature. "Besides, even if they did take the opportunity to escape, they would be thoroughly lost in the middle of a foreign country, and it would only be a matter of time before they are caught or give themselves up. No, I trust her words." "Two against one. Confound it all," snarled the unfriendly guard as he glanced, almost longingly, at a pile of chains and wire lying at a corner of the lounge which he had prepared, "What I'd give to see villains strung like the dogs they are." "Villains they may be, as you say, but they're human!" snapped the secretary as she took a great stride forward, her arms raised in an aggressive position, about to strike him, but merely raising an accusing finger in his direction, "And reasonable, too! You're the one who's a monster! Did you think joining the military gave you an excuse to behave like a savage?" "Um ... two friends of mine, let's not argue ..." stuttered the friendlier guard as he weakly raised a pair of metal arms to divide the combatants, preventing a potentially explosive confrontation, "We don't need any more hostility in this room ..." "But you never asked my opinion, sir!" pointed out Io Aoi in a (yet another) uncalled-for gesture, "My vote is that there isn't a need to restrain them ... though you could stuff a gag in that girl's mouth if you wanted ..." Upon that threat, I felt an urge rising in my throat, compelling me to yell something to the defense of myself. In stifling it to avoid making an undue nuisance of myself, however, it emerged as a dry cough, seemingly deliberate, and promptly gained the attention of absolutely everyone else in the room, as if that was my original intention. "Um ..." Not a soul averted their gaze. Seeing watchful, intent eyes gazing my way, the most intent seemingly being those of the monocled secretary, who was profoundly concerned for my welfare, it would have been massively anticlimatic if I failed to capitalise on this silence which I had unintentionally drawn from the cacophony of voices. "Uh, yes, I don't think it's really important to discuss this because, you see, our objective is to get in touch with the Palace and the, how do I say it, 'services' you render will aid us in our cause. Rest assured that my friend and I here ("Your 'friend' ... ?") will cooperate with you as far as possible, and we, um, don't have the slightest intention of escaping. Yes, that's it." Not a word of organised response, the sounds in the air being those of the bustle of the village crossroads. Not the slightest movement anywhere in the room, apart from the occasional fidget. The eyes of all, whether friend or foe, were still fixed intently upon that shivering little girl standing exposed, practically naked, in the middle of the lounge, evidently dissatisfied at the conclusion to that statement, the last we would be making before we were hustled away as captives. "And, um, why can't we all be friends, eh? Like my good friend here ("Um ... where?") would say, we're here to put an end to all this senseless conflict, and if there's going to be senseless conflict, it isn't going to start with us. Let's all have peace now, shall we?" Resting my elbow on the shoulder of a rather stunned Pwyns Xjrmynq as if he was an old schoolmate, I waved the peace sign energetically in the air even though I knew it didn't necessarily convey the same meaning to the people of this strange land. At least, my glossy smile should be more than enough to convince them that it wasn't a vulgar expression. "Was that last statement supposed to be an insult?" pondered the halberdier disgruntledly as he folded his arms in apprehension, scorning my friendliness. "Do you really think it sounded anything like one?" returned the spearman defensively, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance, disdaining his colleague. "Haha ... yes, very eloquent, very enthusiastic. You know I really wouldn't expect such a thing from the mouth of a child ..." smirked Io Aoi bemusedly as, prompted by a glare of indignation from that nice secretary who stuck up for me, I pouted at him provocatively, in full defiance of my previous vow, "You needn't worry. Foolish as it may seem, I'm trusting you on the basis of your words alone, and only time, and the journey ahead, will tell if you're really as well-intentioned as you claim." It felt unusual, the way the people in the room flowed in and out of camps that trusted us as being truthful or simply condemned us as criminals, and those that believed and supported our quest or considered it doomed to failure, and even those who argued along the age-old lines of gender, an argument which doesn't look like it will be resolved any time soon. Apart from me (I was clear where I stood on those issues!), there was the pair of 'twin' guards, whom further evidence has demonstrated to be not so identical as I believed, Io Aoi, who did have a bit of sense in him, though he usually ran contrary to my beliefs, that lady whose name I didn't know, who gave me the great psychological boost that comes out of having someone supporting you, and Pwyns Xjrmynq, who was shifting uneasily as he stood, obviously trying to find a way of shifting my elbow off his shouder without appearing too uncouth about it. "We'll prove it to you!" I exclaimed as I punched the air with my other arm for emphasis, almost whacking poor Pwyns Xjrmynq, who looked like he was glancing under my sleeve, in the process of it, "I know that words aren't enough to express our sincerity and commitment to this mission, and they can only be displayed through action. So action we must take! Let's take our leave now, mister Aoi, there isn't a moment to lose!" "Not mister Aoi, I don't really like the taste of that. You can call me Io, or Io Aoi. You've got that, girlie?" Certainly, good sir. And it would also be extremely expedient to our cooperation if you could spare the inconvenience of knowing that I have a name too! "And it would be absolutely smashing if we could leave right now, in fact, I would have left before all this small talk started, but unfortunately ... I can't carry all this stuff and this damned great sword of yours! As much as it pains me to ask for help from a tender young maiden such as yourself, could you ..." "Oh, you could have just asked!" huffed aforementioned tender young maiden. And there it was, the most ridiculous of scenes. Poor little me once again saddled with the awesome task of lugging that ceremonial sword, an oversized piece of dead weight around while Pwyns Xjrmynq shakily held a couple of files and sheets of writing under his arm ("Why don't you give me the paperwork and give him the sword?" "We're not that daft! You might read them!" "But I can't ... oh sigh ..." "Um ... Charlotte ... ?"). In the meantime, Io Aoi hoisted a stack of cardboard boxes which contained our provisions for the journey, in case we were hungry before we reached a town, to tide us over in case of problems or simply if we were feeling peckish, as he directed us out into the village crossroads and to the stable where his horse and carriage were stored. Stuffing an entire tasty-looking cream bun into his mouth and cramming several more into a hopefully empty pouch on his utility belt ("Gross!" "They're for me, you know." " ... I'm going to trip you up ...") the three of us proceeded into the open sun, looking probably the most unusual procession ever to grace the roads of this farming town. "Charlotte, oh Charlotte my dear Xkwyr!" yelped my royal companion very abruptly as we were in mid-step. In my conversation with the people of Va World, I had so carelessly neglected him, not translating the locals' speech for him, so that he was constantly at a loss as to the occurences around him. The poor man even had a rough time of it as I repeatedly used him as a shield, a bargaining chip and an armrest in my discussions back at the town hall. Surely, he must be displeased about that too ... or maybe he did understand the flow of conversation, that he didn't mind my casual attitude about him, and maybe he even wanted to praise me for putting forward his case accurately and succinctly. That would be nice! "Charlotte! Oh please, hear me out!" "What!" I snapped, at that time irritated by the monstrous load borne in both my hands and across my back, and by the light of the sun which, though illuminating, blinded me with its brilliance. However, I realised how I had been ignoring his cries and clamours thus far and, regretful of my callous attitude, I resolved to heed him this time. "Pardon my rudeness, sir, but ... um ... what is your wish?" "Oh, it is terrible of me to interrupt you in the midst of this process! I would have asked this of you earlier, but you were conversing with those other good characters and would not heed me. It shames me to ask a honourable lady such as yourself this in full view of the common eye, here in the busy streets of this humble township, but ..." "Spit it out." I grumbled, less than merciful now that Pwnys Xjrmynq had slipped back into his old habit of babbling without being precise. The sword was heavy, the streets were noisy, the light was blinding, and it was a menace to personal and public safety to have to listen to a rambling conversation while keeping a path behind someone ahead of me. Even if he had not eked out any more than an uneasy couple of words up till now. "Forgive me, Charlotte, but I would ask ... do you happen to know where the gentlemen's bathroom might be?" A mysterious strength seemed to fill me upon his words, a strength so enormous it now seemed an effortless task merely to hoist the heavy sword in my hands ... and bring it down on Pwyns Xjrmynq's head with terrifying speed. - 'Allo! Wot ye getting at, eh? Ye tellin' me me adventure ends? 'Ey! - posted by Charlotte | 4:35 pm (0) comments Sunday, April 18, 2004 I'm writing, I'm writing! Please, don't kill me *cringe*! Apparently, the construction work is beginning to cease or at least temper off into more quiet tasks like bricklaying and painting, because I was pleasantly surprised at the generous quantity of silence that I was provided with this day by the neighbours. Furthermore, the final victory of Tactics Ogre is in sight for my little sister, who just has the last series of battles left before the conclusion of the game, upon which I can kick her off to go play on the real PlayStation instead of all these freeloading emulators on the computer, and that means more time on the computer for me. While waiting for that end to arrive, however, my latest craze (or rather, involuntarily repeated activity) is re-reading my entire collection of the Beano stretching from 1989 up till, hey, last month! Of course, it's not an utterly complete collection but it's good enough for me, although I would like all the editions I can get, of course. My previous involuntarily repeated activity was rearranging things in chronological order of publication, and that accounts for the continuous stretch of Beanos ready for perusal. Otherwise, there is nothing to say. Hey, what, you want some exciting new adventure every day? You know, there's a reason why socially retarded children like yours truly enjoy indulging in exploring and writing fiction, you know! posted by Charlotte | 4:24 pm (0) comments Disclaimer : The Slayers and Filia Ul Copt and all images thereof are the property of Hajime Kanzaka and Rui Araizumi. I don't own any of them, although if I had a choice I would want Filia ... ~//n_n\\7 |
|
|
|
|
||
|
 |
|||||
|
||||||
