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Under the cut is my ( friendsCollage )
Who can resist seeing pretty icons all lined up in a row? I don't think I ever noticed before just how many of the icons of my flist have usernames on them. Huh. I think I've put my name on just one icon, lovely topless Xtina at the beach, ages and ages ago.
As to life; it continues apace. I'm attempting to fend off a sudden and sharp desire for porny Harry/Draco (or, rather Draco/Harry, although, really, I wouldn't bitch about who was on top as long as it was porn... this seems to be the HP 'ship of fade-to-black. Argh!) by reading some Storm Constantine.
The Shades of Time and Memory to be precise, which I am enjoying, but not with quite the visceral joy I found in the first Wraeththu series. I don't think the switch from first- to third-person POV has hit me quite this hard since I first read Virginia Wolf's To the Lighthouse. Then, the sudden distance felt jarring but also, absolutely perfect. I knew that there was another part of the story I hadn't read yet, and I could just feel that it would take me right back into someone's skin in that way that only really good stream-of-consciousness narrative can.
In this case, however... with two books out of three down, and the distance of the narrative, and the shifting points of view... I feel bereft. I do think that the approach is appropriate to the story that is being told but, I still have this nagging sense of loss. The intimacy of the first three books was so amazing to me (particularly in Bewitchments) that even though I know this is a different kind of story, I keep thinking about how the different arcs would read if they each got their own book.
I've yet to start in on the fanfic for this, though, so... LOL
Who can resist seeing pretty icons all lined up in a row? I don't think I ever noticed before just how many of the icons of my flist have usernames on them. Huh. I think I've put my name on just one icon, lovely topless Xtina at the beach, ages and ages ago.
As to life; it continues apace. I'm attempting to fend off a sudden and sharp desire for porny Harry/Draco (or, rather Draco/Harry, although, really, I wouldn't bitch about who was on top as long as it was porn... this seems to be the HP 'ship of fade-to-black. Argh!) by reading some Storm Constantine.
The Shades of Time and Memory to be precise, which I am enjoying, but not with quite the visceral joy I found in the first Wraeththu series. I don't think the switch from first- to third-person POV has hit me quite this hard since I first read Virginia Wolf's To the Lighthouse. Then, the sudden distance felt jarring but also, absolutely perfect. I knew that there was another part of the story I hadn't read yet, and I could just feel that it would take me right back into someone's skin in that way that only really good stream-of-consciousness narrative can.
In this case, however... with two books out of three down, and the distance of the narrative, and the shifting points of view... I feel bereft. I do think that the approach is appropriate to the story that is being told but, I still have this nagging sense of loss. The intimacy of the first three books was so amazing to me (particularly in Bewitchments) that even though I know this is a different kind of story, I keep thinking about how the different arcs would read if they each got their own book.
I've yet to start in on the fanfic for this, though, so... LOL
