Status Updates posted by Ghost-of-a-Chance
I wanted to share a real zinger for anyone who needs a laugh today. For this to make sense, you need to know three things: 1, I'm bi with a very supportive straight husband; 2, I'm in the closet IRL because of homophobic loved ones, and 3, I'm "out" online under my pen name. Oh, and 4, my husband Cold is an adorable smartass.
I spent some time today working in our big hall closet, up on a stepladder. When I heard Cold come through the front door, I warned him to be careful coming through the hallway because "I'm kinda in the closet."
"Kinda?" he retorted. "You're entirely in the closet."
I could hear the unspoken bi joke like a cat hearing a can opener. "I'm only in the closet IRL," I reminded him, "online, everyone and their gay stepdog knows I'm bi."
Cold poked his head around the door. "Either you're in the closet or you're out of the closet," he teased me. "You can't be both. You're not Schrodinger's bi."
And that's how I realized it is entirely possible to laugh yourself right off a ladder, and that, despite getting older, Cold IS still able to catch me before I can fall on my oversized rump. I'm still grinning about this, and it's been over an hour!
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Knock yourself out, @InvidiaRed! I told him I’m stealing it, too, so he’s been warned. @WillowDarkling and @BronxWench he is a hoot, let me tell you that! I’ve gotten some real tongue-choking jokes from him in our eleven years but Schrodinger’s bi may just top them.
Earlier this week, I complained about finding inch-worms destroying my plants. His response? Paraphrased, “I hate inchworms. They need to learn some assertiveness instead of always inching around like they’re expecting to get stepped on.” I. Just. About. Died.
Well. It took close to a year and a half but we finally know why I’ve been having nerve pain and numbness and struggling to stand and walk. The ‘why’ is not an easily fixed condition (...possibly not “fixable” at all, from the sound of it...) but having an explanation for the problem is the first step on the path forward. I can’t even express how relieved I am to have physical proof that what I’ve been struggling with wasn’t just in my head; the fact that such was bothering me as strongly as it was should say something about how folks with invisible disabilities are often treated in the US.
I’m still stuck with walking with a cane for now. There are also orthotics, braces, medication, and routine specialist visits added to the equation now. I’m not crazy about that...but I’ll live. At least it’s not neuropathy and there’s a chance of some improvement with treatment, and so long as those two statements are true, I’m sure I can find a way to not whine too much. It’s a bonus that the medication I’m on now is helping with my bad knee (why I had the cane, to begin with) and I’ve got a very courteous and understanding doctor taking care of me. Maybe now that the testing and waiting are over, I’ll have a little more free time. If so, maybe I’ll be more able to use said free time for writing and updating. In the meantime, it’s good to be back on here even if only occasionally.
Anyway. Dropping off the face of the earth without warning is kind of normal for me but...well...this is why I’ve been exceeding my usual DOtFotE statistics. In the coming months, if I get unusually bristly on here, say something unfriendly, or come across as short or rude, I apologize profusely in advance. I’m hanging in here the best I can...but...frankly, my nerves are compressed and sending pain and itching signals through otherwise healthy tissue, and there’s not a whole lot I can do when it gets really bad. There are days when it’s so bad I just want to cuss a blessed blue streak, cry, or both at once. Generally, I try to stay offline on days like that but they’ve snuck up on me before. If it happens, please be patient with me and let me know I’ve been a dick (because I probably won’t even realize it until later on when I’m trying to sleep) and I’ll apologize for it.
Until next time, I hope everyone’s having a comfortable and safe spring, and wish y’all the best.
Very important to know when things are real and not something we imagine. Sorry to hear they don’t have easy way to fix the issue, but medical science advance so who knows what might happen in the future. I hope things will improve for you even in the absence of a cure.
Porg-give me if this is out of line, but I wanted to show off the little buddy my hubby got me for Christmas last year. Folks, if you’re looking for love, find you someone who respects your nerdities and odditudes.
Y’all can keep y’all’s his and hers towels; in this home we have Pikachu and Porgs.
You got very Southern there for a moment.
In my defense, I was born and raised in Missouri maybe an hour from the M’Arkansas border, and I still live in the same region. Missouri is Southern enough for the awkward stuff like accent but too far north for the sweet tea to taste good.Quote
That is a really sweet gift! I hope some day I can be married to someone like that!
It really was just the sweetest thing, really. I grew up in a family where fannish behavior was supposed to be kept secret and treated as an embarrassment. When Cold started bringing his Playstation and anime over for dates I knew I hit gold. Honey, if you can, try to find you a man (or woman, or both, or neither, or ancient eldritch entity, etc) who respects your inner nerd and lets theirs out around you. I hope you can find someone who appreciates you for who you are, too. It’s worth everything in the world when you can be dorks together.
By the way? We’ve been together 11 years this April, he regularly lets me pull the “rubber ducky” maneuver on him when I’m stumped on a scene, and I’ve taken up gaming with him on occasion. He’s my favorite dork and I’m his favorite nerd, and it’s just what we both needed.
It's Thanksgiving. My mother-in-law invited herself over for dinner and will be here around five. I barely managed to get the place clean. My husband is cranky, I've got cooking left to do, and Woozle just tried to pee on his sister.
...at least the apartment smells like orange cupcakes.
Writing Advice from my former professors
- If a point can be delivered with a pinprick, avoid substituting a sledgehammer unless the situation really calls for a sledgehammer. In that case, illustrate the fallout from said sledgehammer.
- There are good writers, and there are popular writers; rarely are the two the same, but overtime, they may become viewed as the same. CoughcoughSHAKESPEAREcough.
- If your narration has to include “somehow,” you’ve probably got a plothole. Get a shovel and fill the damned thing.
- Books aren’t gardens – take it easy on the flowery prose or your readers may start sneezing.
- Hook them in the first sentence or you’ll have to fight to reel them in; land them in the first paragraph, or all you’ll have is a fish story.
- Know your audience and choose your vocabulary accordingly; learned middle age Brits may know what it means to dandle a baby but teenagers will assume you’re a sex offender.
- Dickinson never said anyways. Austen never used the word orbs. Orwell didn’t write bugged eyes. If you’re going to emulate someone, pick someone who knows what they’re doing, not a teenager who just discovered twilight and writes in emojis.
- Mark Twain. You either love him or you hate him, and if you love him, chances are, you also kinda hate him a little bit.
- Avoid the monologue – your characters need to breathe! They need to process things! They aren’t standing alone on a stage bitching at a bleached human skull, let them be interrupted!
- Adverbs. Know when they contribute to the story, and slaughter them when they don’t. It’s okay to gate-keep parts of speech.
- Sheep is already plural, you bloat-brained mindless self-important turnips. Pluralizing plural words will earn you a failing grade and a sound brain-dusting.
- Keep a hard copy of common references handy while writing, especially a decent dictionary. It takes a minute to flip through pages; checking online leads you to Facebook which leads you to Twitter, then your favorite blog, then five or six click-bait articles, then next thing you know, it’s one and your assignment was due at midnight.
- English is bullshit. Next question.
- We’re taught that Paragraphs need to be 4-6 sentences, but guess what? Paragraphs aren’t prescriptions. Sometimes they need to be smaller. Sometimes, larger. Always, they’re prescribed for one speaker at a time except in extenuating circumstances. Start a new one for each new condition and each new patient, or you’ll never break down the text walls.
- You can’t apply the same rules and fixes to every single situation. Learn what to apply and when, otherwise you’ll just confuse yourself.
- Vary your fucking sentence structure and length, you filthy rotten philistines. Don’t line the entire page with rows of naked uncut spaghetti noodles and olives and expect the reader to call it delicious! Syntax! Variety! Don’t leave your readers lost and hungry!
- Do! Your! Fecking! Research! You! Lazy! Impudent! Brats! Don’t write about high wind warnings on planets with no atmosphere or gravity or you’ll look like an out of this world idiot.
Things dog people should know about cats:
- They don’t hate everything – some of them just have resting bitch behavior.
- They don’t want to kill you in your sleep – they want to cuddle...your face.
- Some are picky about food. Others? “Feed me right now oR i WiLl ScReAm!!!”
- The fat ones are the cuddliest. The skinny ones make good parrots.
- They’re not lazy – they conserve energy for their one-am zoomies. No, they don’t care if that doesn’t work with your schedule.
- Hairballs...that’s really just a euphamism for “fur-filled barf-cigar.”
- If you treat them right, and don’t treat them like dogs, chances are they’ll love you for life. If you treat them like dogs, they’ll become assholes.
- On the other hand, some really are just assholes from the start. It’s a toss-up.
- Toe-beans. ‘nuff said.
Brought to you by my two babies, Heiferlump Chance and Woozle Thomas...one of whom is screaming for food right now. Cats.
I’m so ready for Fall.
...if I break my neck on the stairs tomorrow, that’s NOT what I meant.
YAS! I like your idea better. 2020 has been a nightmare from beginning to end...it’s gotten to the point where folks ask me “how’s life going?” and the only response I can think of is “it’s sharting blackbirds.”
But then people who’ve never acquainted themselves with Hieronymus Bosch’s work are totally lost and wonder if I’ve got a screw loose. It’s an accurate mental image, though.
My brain does the weirdest shit sometimes.
A little-known fact about PTSD: even when it’s ‘managed,’ it can affect your ability to concentrate and focus in entirely awkward ways. In my case, this often means losing concentration when there’s background noise, getting distracted, and visually blending words, sentences, and lines together when I’m struggling to focus. Blame hypervigilance and its many little cohorts.
This is one of the funny moments. I’m doing research on TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) for the next chapter of Shifting the Paradigm, specifically looking for details about common materials used for cranial plates. (...I may need help.) I hit a generic article, beginning...Quote
Brain injuries can be acquired in a variety of ways, including:
...and I began scanning down the bullets on the list. I stopped – THAT doesn’t sound right! – I double-checked.
...yep. I seriously managed to read
- Disorders (e.g. Parkinson’s disease, multiple sclerosis)
and visually combined them into Hemorrhoids. The funny part? There are folks I know IRL for whom TBI by hemorrhoids could be a valid threat...because...you know...they’re such massive buttheads.
...I’m gonna shut up now.
Fair warning: next person to call me "Gimpy" gets my cane up their ass.
(...I'm looking at you, ColdWarriors. I know where you sleep.)
The state of the world has finally convinced me: humans are too ridiculous for words.
From here on out, I choose to identify as a porg...
...because I, too, am small, awkward, chunky, incredibly useless, frequently in the way, and undeniably adorable, and I, too, make obnoxious sounds to communicate with others of my species.
Next chapter of A New Lease on Life – “61: Forgiveness Goes Both Ways” – is complete, sent out for beta-reading, and with a little luck, should go live on ALL SITES (except Tumblr because Tumblr is run by censor-happy dickbags) by the end of the month!
And just think: it only took almost a YEAR to get that chapter completed. Kimber Bryant is, again, a very large part of the delay. She’s so hard to write, I swear, sometimes I want to just give in and kill her off AGAIN. Forget second chances in other worlds, it’s too hard to get in her headspace to deal with writing her often. At least we only have two more Kimber-centric chapters before we can get back to our regular programming.
...why did I commit myself to her arc? I must be a masochist or something.
The idea behind the site is a good one but the execution...eh...well, it’s horribly lacking. I’ve never gotten a single good answer from the site no matter how many times I rephrase what I’m looking for.
Highly suggested. It’s more trouble than it’s worth unless you’re looking for a laugh.
Another recent flub from the Reverse Dictionary:
“frustration over a recurring unpleasant event.” Suggestion: Pantaloons.
I have a feeling that wouldn’t even make sense in the Matrix. I may never cease to be frustrated by my brain’s inability to find the words I need, but at least that makes sense. “Pantaloons,” however….
For the first time in his life, Leon was entirely, utterly alone, and with no end in sight. Unbidden, he recalled his brother’s final words to him: it was always you or me...now it’s just you. Yet again, he wondered what Norton meant by that; yet again, he wondered if, in some backward way, it meant only one of us will survive this life, so I’m choosing you to do it. The suspicion always left a twisting, burning, aching feeling in his gut—something somewhere in the messy middleground between resentment, heartache, and resignation. That middleground was nothing new – before Norton’s sudden and grisly death, it was where Leon’s heart inevitably landed after any length of time around him.
...and that, Leon admitted if only to himself, was what hurt the most.
Excerpt from A New Lease on Life – 61: Forgiveness is for the Victimized (WIP)
Sometimes when I read back over what I’ve written, it feels like I just vomited up words on a page, swept it into a pile, and called it good. Other times, like this, I wonder if I carved them out of my chest and walked away without realizing a piece of my heart was missing. All I meant to do was get into the groove of the chapter and I stabbed myself right in the feels.
*From a WIP/rough draft, no checking done yet – expect mis-comma-ing all over the place and maybe a spelling/grammar error or two.)
Grammarly had a blonde moment. Grammarly identified “blonde” as two different incorrectly spelled words somehow jammed together.
This is why you always, always, ALWAYS either do your own proof-reading or have a beta proof-read your drafts instead of just running them through spellcheck and accepting all corrections. Grammarly’s free checker is, so far, the best I’ve come across, but it works best in combination with proof-reading. No checking program can replace proofreading.
The difference between this site’s forums and FFnet’s forums is...uh...what’s a good solid word for “incredible?” There’s no doubt which of the two is better.
FFnet forums are plagued with simple, honest, non-aggressive questions which are subject to aggressive dogpiling, bullying, retributive reporting, and immaturity from users who don’t comprehend that you can disagree with someone without that disagreement making them a horribly nasty and evil person AND without being an utter dickbag about it. I’ve seen questions about site functions and guidelines turn into cyber-bullying sessions that have made people log off for weeks to recover; many of these times, I’ve given up on getting my answer to track the bullied user down and reassure them only to find out they were brought to tears and considering deleting their accounts entirely. The immaturity and bullying on that site is appalling, and even more so that it’s allowed to continue without repercussions.
AFF forums? I’m looking for a thread to get answers from; instead, I just found a topic titled “Uses for a pet demon” and sprayed hot tea out my nose. No attacks in the replies, just people having fun with the idea and being – GASP! – rational human beings! Even more, users replying are – if you can believe it – JOKING about it! I feel like a kid who heard “Detention” but instead wound up at Disney World for the week. Plus, I can say someone’s being a dickbag without being reported for profanity, and I can write “this hit me hard” without the censors leaving only “me hard.” That's always awkward.
I love this site, and I love its users. Y’all are awesome. If only the site was easier to navigate and use on my tablet and if only it had better log-in security, I’d love it twice as much. Either way, it’ll be a while before I bother with FFnet’s forums again.
Now I just need to find a thread for language research & resources...
We have some language research and resources tucked away in here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/forum/86-unofficial-guides/
But you know, I love the forums here, too. That’s what really sucked me in, and I wound up joining the staff because, well, why not?
I think that’s the very place I wound up posting a new thread with my question, BronxWench. Much appreciated!
Honestly, if I have to choose between people who have a sense of humor and people who clutch their pearls over someone saying butt in the forums when not referring to cigarettes or weapons...uh...I’ll go with fun people every time.
Listening to Loreena McKennitt….because only in Celtic folk music do people respond to finding a drowned woman by making a musical instrument from her corpse.
“The swans swim so bonny, oh.”
I’m confused here. I got a ‘disclaimer’ review on one of my older stories (Denial) from mod PIPPYCHICK. It includes this text:Quote
Your disclaimer doesn't have one of the two parts we need to see. It must say that no money/profit is made. Saying that it’s just for fun or just for entertainment purposes is not enough.
BUT! my disclaimer for that story states just that. I double-checked, and the disclaimer has these words exactly:Quote
I do not own TMNT, Hellboy, or any mentioned music, movies, etc; I make no money from this. I DO own Alesha, Maggie, Dante, the Willows, and Amber...and coffee. LOTS of COFFEE.
This is the basic disclaimer format I used for that series of stories with the exception of the word “story.” (I think maybe I ran out of characters…? I dunno. It’s been a while since I even thought about that story or series. Anywho, I replied to the email immediately upon receipt of it but haven’t gotten any answer yet. (I can't recall if replying to the email will do any good. In my defense, I’ve been oscillating between fine and suddenly retching most of the day.)
Was this an error? Does acknowledging ownership of my OCs throw the rest of the disclaimer into question? Was my dorky joke about owning lots of coffee the problem? Or does “I make no money from this” translate to “Dude! I’m totally getting paid for writing this story!” and somehow, I’ve never noticed before?
I’m so confused right now. (...or am I queasy? Or is it both? ...both. Both is good.)
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I took a look and the disclaimer as it is right now is fine. The no-profit statement you have there is more than sufficient for our needs. I’ve updated our records to show it’s correct, so your story won’t be hidden.
And I’m on grand jury service until the end of January, so I’m confused, queasy, and occasionally out of my mind
Hey, Folks! I’m not ignoring y’all like a brat. I’ve tried replying to this post several times but my tablet browser keeps eating the replies when I click ‘post.’ Pardon the mental image but Kindle’s “Silk” browser is about as useful as bollocks on a heifer.
Basically no worries because real life ALWAYS comes first and it always should come first, and I greatly appreciate the help.
WillowDarkling, thank you for posting that link – I couldn’t find it before I posted the original status, probably because I was stuck in a sick-fog. (I was worried I wouldn’t be able update fix the disclaimer within the time allotment on account of said sick-bug. It was doing its darndest to take me down and keep me there. Next time something like this comes up, I’ll be sure to follow that link.
BronxWench, very much appreciated! Also, you never fail to make me grin. You’re a hoot. Hope the jury duty went well!
pippychick, eh, no worries. Mistakes happen, especially when you’re stressed and busy. I spend half my days in a daze and I don’t have your excuse so you’re doing just fine. I hope the move is going well…?
There’s nothing in the world like going from a long night of white noise to the day’s first song. It’s a shift from ennui to enlightenment – tense stillness to sudden and flurried movement.
The only comparison I can ever come up with, odd as it sounds, is standing on the edge of a bald drop-off, staring down into the early morning fog seeping through the treetops, and watching the rising sun slowly burn through the mist. No matter how beautiful the sunset may be, no matter how the clouds swirl or the fog swoops in as dusk falls, nothing the rest of the day will ever match up to that first moment of burning elation. Delay never weakens it; urgency never strengthens it.
Blindness, I could maybe learn to tolerate. Silence, more likely. Losing all ability to hear? That, I’m sure, would slay me outright. Thus why this afternoon, I’m blaring “After the Rain” and grinning like an idijt for no reason whatsoever.
I’m not sure where I was first introduced to the musical style of Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness – was it “Rainy Girl,” maybe, or “Canyon Moon?” – but I’m falling for it harder every day. I’m rarely brought to tears by contemporary music with vocals but AMitW is, so far, a frequent exception. I never would have associated something as intense as “Something Wild” with Disney had I not heard it myself in Pete’s Dragon. ...and cried. ...like a baby.
Good grief. My eyes are burning, my skin’s buzzing, and my heart’s a gooey, fluttery mess. This...this is beautiful and it hits all my frisson-triggers in just the right order. If y'all haven't heard anything by this artist, please, for the love of all that's good and bright in this world, fix that starting by playing this video and listening.
In our going-on ten years together, I’ve lost count of all the wonderful things Cold has earned my gratitude for. He’s saved my life and my heart. He’s brought me out of my shell and supports me when I inevitably crawl back into it to recoup. He’s broadened my interests, made me feel more confident in myself, and taught me that it’s okay to be who I am.
On top of all of that, he’s introduced me to music I would previously have never given a chance. The very idea that I would have lived the rest of my life without ever once hearing AFI’s “Synesthesia” is, to say the least, horrifying. I’ll have to bake this man a potpie sometime soon...after I’m done stabbing the replay button to death yet again. If I ever find somewhere I can buy the song, I might just cry from happiness and embarrass Cold to bits. Alas (or rather, fortunately for him,) the song seems to be unavailable for sale and was released as a hidden track on an album we own.
Replay button, brace yourself – it’s gonna be a while.
Recently, someone asked me “What do you want to accomplish in the next ten years?” They probably expected something entirely different than what I answered. Some folks, surely, must answer that question with “I want to be promoted in my job” or “I want to get married,” or even “I want to own my own home and not have to deal with my bitchy landlady anymore.” My answer perplexed this person, and honestly, it confuses me, too.
I want to be truly finished with pieces after I’ve written them. I don’t want to spend hours, days, weeks, and even months and years wondering how I could have improved them. I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night and realize I left a huge-ass plot-hole somewhere, spelled someone’s name wrong, or got chapters out of order. I don’t want to go back, read over my stories, think “My GOD that’s crap,” and spend the next several months agonizing over how I can improve the crap. I want to write, proofread, make final edits, and be done with the piece, able to move on without worrying I’ve made some horrible mistake...and no, I’m not just worrying for nothing. I do make horrible mistakes and find them months down the line, frequently enough that it’s given me some nasty recurring writer’s block.
Improving your craft can make you so much more critical of yourself. When I first started writing (we’re talking single digit ages here) I never looked back. Now I have decades of experience and years of education behind me, all geared toward improving my writing...and I can’t stop looking back long enough to look forward.
Maybe it’d be more realistic to say “I want to win the lottery without ever touching a ticket.”
It’s been over seven years since RUSH released Clockwork Angels, and nothing has changed. I still fall into an all-encompassing, skin-prickling, lung-stilling, and soul-rending state of ecstasy every time I hear “The Wreckers.” The problem? My hubby has crazy-narrow tastes in music and can’t comprehend how I can love that song so much. It’s true, but I feel like telling him “it makes my ears jizz themselves” would be poorly received by someone who only enjoys music with screaming in it.
Seriously. My ears need a smoke after the song’s over. It’s that freakin’ good.
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JayDee – I’m happy to have introduced you, then!
As a Rusher it’s almost physically painful for me to admit it but I was overall disappointed with the music on Clockwork Angels. The lyrics ranged from “up to par” to “above average” and the concept was great but the sound...uh...yeah, it may just be my ears have gotten spoiled but most of the music came across poorly balanced and, on some tracks, borderline cacophonous. Despite a moment of excessive rhyming repetition at the climax The Wreckers is the only exception I’ve noted on the album. It’s everything I’ve come to expect from Rush and more. The rise and fall of the tempo and pitch, the melodic build and fade, it all evokes the scene being described perfectly. The first time I heard this song, I was so moved by it I cried; even after all this time, it never fails to send chills down my spine and goosebumps scattering over my arms and neck. It hits every single musical frisson trigger in my brain and in just the right order.
Also, for any uninitiated: Clockwork Angels is a concept album based on a steampunk reimagining of Voltaire’s Candide, and Rush’s FINAL studio album.
Oh this is hilarious. I’ve once again buggered the buzzard on posting chapters and have reached out for help...and the ad on the thread, last I checked, is for something called Ghost’s Dilemma.
My pen-name varies from site-to-site due to various site restrictions on logins, but the name I go by online is Ghost Chance. Thanks for the publicity but I kinda feel called out.
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Oh, I’m not entirely mysterious, just not being terribly prolific lately! They’re sweet and silly little stories, nothing terribly dramatic, but I like my characters, so I’ll write more for them. Eventually. I have the bones of the third in the series, plus a sort of prequel that’s not nearly as gentle. We’ll see how that goes over, if I ever finish it.
Things which literally never happen to me:
- Hearing Nuvole Bianche without mentally melting into a blissful rapturous puddle
- Seeing “Woozle” snoring with his mouth open and his little tongue hanging out without snickering
- Smelling an old book without the urge to huff it like a lunatic regardless of who’s watching
- Tasting a well-prepared quality tea without being thankful for life in general
- Feeling Heiferlump step on me with her pointy little toes without shrieking in pain then apologizing for startling her.
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Ah, my wee corgi lass has ideopathic epilepsy. It’s been over 4 years since her diagnosis, and we’re managing to keep it to one or two big episodes a year, so that’s something. And for 99% of the time, she’s our sweet, lovable bundle of happiness, so it’s all good.
I’m honestly really glad to find out about the book-huffing club. I remember going to the library and just loving the smell. I always thought I was really weird.
I mean, I know I’m weird (I talk to the bugs I pick up to take out of the house), but you know, at least it’s not for the book smell thing.
InBrightestDay, I regularly argue with my older cat...and lose. She can’t speak English but I still lose. Compared to that, demanding bugs stay out or pay rent isn’t that weird.
Also, libraries always smell DIVINE to me. Or, at least, OTHER libraries smell divine to me. Our local library stank of dirty feet and unwashed underwear for the last few years; now that it’s moved into the new building it just smells like paper and fuckboy. Fit to make a body cry, it is. The college library, though...WHEW! It’s a book-huffer’s dream come true – one step through those doors and your nose needs an after-fun cigarette.
First rule of Book-Huffing Club: You don’t talk about Book-Huffing Club.
Second Rule of Book-Huffing Club: There is no Book-Huffing Club.
Third rule: If you find a good one, don’t be greedy - SHARE IT with fellow Book-Huffers.