The one where Adam is a Cullen
and Kris moves to Washington
by Mary

( Read more... )

Thursday, this shirt is the most truest representation of your inner souls which could ever exist. THE PINK UNICORN'S MACHINE GUN IS SHOOTING LOVE AND THE UNICORN IS SHITTING LIGHTNING. You can claim it's ironic all you like, Thursday, but I know for absolutely certain that this is the shirt which best represents your band.

Audrey, Erinna and I are watching Godzilla: Final Wars and it is AMAZING. It has every single thing a movie should have, ever. I have been ruined for all other films.

So part of my re-writing of my story 'Long Live the Black Parade' is I'm doing far too much research about everything, for I am very very fond of research and it feels enough like productivity, even if it's not actually productive research at all, that I don't feel guilty for enjoying it so much.

Anyway, today I went out in search of the meaning behind the medal that Mikeyway has pinned to his Black Parade jacket. You know, this one.

It's an Order of the Holy Spirit Cross, and when not being pinned to Mikeyway it looks like this or this. The Wikipedia page about the Order is here, or an alternate source of information -- and where I got the second of the photos of the cross -- is this page, which I'm including because the domain name is a fairly wonderful domain name as these things go.

I have no idea whatsoever what I will do with this information yet, apart from noting that the random theme of archaic French nationalism running through the imagery of the Black Parade is, well, random.

Adam Lambert on Velvet Goldmine (from here):

I don’t know how I found Velvet Goldmine, but once I saw it, I was obsessed with it. I thought it was a genius movie, both in plot and also, visually and musically. In all elements it was just really cool.

27-year-old glam kids repreZENT. It makes me so happy he loves this movie. It had a really profound impact on me in so many ways when I saw it as a teen, and is one of the big generational touch-stones for me that hasn't yet been covered by Lyn-Z, Pete Wentz, and all the other band people whose formative interests partially align with my own.

Adam's dad about what Adam thought of Star Trek (from here):

Adam (like his Mom) was not really into it. Except he always dug the cool alien make-up.

... OF COURSE HE DID.

HAY KIDS. If you want to hear me be nonsensical on the radio sometime in the next two hours, Joy FM streams live here. Tra la la.

Edit: 12:24: I'm on now! Woooo! :D :D

Edit again: All done! YOU MISSED TWENTY MINUTES OF MEEE, your lives are hard. :(

The comments on this post are pretty much the most joyful, pleasing things I've seen in months -- so much cheery and good-natured reveling in one another's specific and cliched kinks, with no self-deprecation or self-consciousness. This is why I love fandom so very very much.

It also makes me feel much better about the Wolf House books, I have to admit, because oh right, there actually is an audience out there for stories about smart, snarky hot people who have secret pain because of their pasts where they were kept in vampire slave-houses but now they spend most of their time going to punk shows/hunting vampires/being in love with vampires/having more secret pain. WHEEE. COME ON, YOU KNOW YOU'LL READ IT. right?

I'm meant to be cleaning my flat for an inspection tomorrow morning, but I was cold and so sat down to enjoy my bed & blankets for another minute before doing more tidying, and I ended up at Keltie's blog, and she wrote something about Panic which touched me enough that I'm going to repeat part of it:

It was a really magical time of believing that we could all change the world, believing that all you needed was love, and watching four best friends tour around the world shouting it from the rafters... I remember sitting and telling ryan that I had a cool idea for a video that involved his dads old set of russian dolls I had found when I had moved all of his fathers things from his old house... and I guess that says it all... Things have changed. And it's ok.

The quote makes me think of Across the Universe, of Moulin Rouge, of what it is to have had one of those perfect bubble-times which seem sheened gold when you look back at them. Those times which, no matter how bad the break-up afterwards is, how harsh the come-down, you can never be anything but glad for having gone through all of it.

For those who don't get enough of me via this journal, an interview with me about the Robins zine is going to be on The Outland Institute on JOY 94.9 this Friday. I believe there'll be a podcast available of the show also. Many many thanks to Narrelle Harris and John Richards for inviting me to be on the program. Also, the JOY office is a totally lovely space to be in, and I got into a discussion about Beth Ditto's fashionable fabulousness with a guy while I was hanging in the foyer after recording. I'mma gonna see if I can do volunteer work there or something.

So when TrueBlood season 1 was airing in the states, I downloaded the first seven episodes before getting my usual HBO burnout problem (the episode with Sookie eating the pie and crying made me go WAH NO MORE OF THIS NO). Last weekend, since the season was super-cheap to buy at JB-HiFi, I bought the dvds and watched the remaining episodes.

And seriously you guys, why didn't anybody take me aside and say HEY MARY, YOU SHOULD GIVE THIS SHOW ANOTHER SHOT, BECAUSE THE MAGISTER IS ACTUALLY EVERY MALE VAMPIRE CHARACTER YOU LOVE EVER, ONLY THIS TIME PLAYED BY ZELJKO IVANEK, THAT AWESOMELY NASTY ASSHOLE GOVERNOR DUDE FROM OZ.

I would watch a show that was just the Magister and the Fangtasia vampires being really mean to Bill. I would watch that forever. There could be occasional very special episodes where Lafayette politely enquires of Merlotte's customers which of them it was who ordered the AIDS burger, just because.

Man, MySpace Dark Horse Presents is just the gift that keeps on giving. I am so fond. I wish their content delivery format (free short comics by top-notch creators published online, then collected into a hard-copy trade and sold at comics shops) was one more widely used, because it's close to perfect to give people a taste of a variety of titles and creative teams.

Anyway, here we have a page from Buffy Season 8: Always Darkest, by Joss Whedon and Jo Chen, which I'm posting because I giggled when I saw it.

( What the slashy heck? )

I remember irradiatedsoup talking once about how odd it was for her when Princess Diana died, because it was just after her own mother had passed away and it was strange to watch the world be so upset over someone they didn't know personally when she was trying to mourn someone she'd been so close to.

I've felt a little like that in the past couple of weeks, because the papers are wall-to-wall Michael Jackson while I've been so profoundly sad about losing my grandfather, the man who was the only adult male in my life for a huge portion of my childhood. It's been harder, in some ways, than losing Kat, because I was so much closer to Joe and loved him as much as I've ever loved anyone in my whole life, ever. But when Kat died I lost my shit and ran away to America for three weeks to follow a band and wrote a whole goddamn memoir about how fucked up I felt about it, and now with Joe I'm just... carrying on and going to work and writing and listening to music and feeling bummed about a band I liked splitting up. And with Kat I felt like, how do we survive this, how do we go on when the world has all this terrible darkness just underneath the light we make?

And being able to survive it, being able to go on, even though there's this hole in the world where Joe was... it's been so hard but I feel like a sick heartless freak that it hasn't been harder, that I'm not drifting moorless this time, that I don't feel lost.

Except that, you know, I just accidentally ruined my passport because it was in a bag that caught caught up with a pile of laundry, and when I found out that it'll be more than $200 to replace it I started crying, which is pretty much the dumbest of dumb reasons to cry. So maybe I'm a little wobbly, even if I'm not a mess.

I hate being unhappy so much.

Edit: and my father just emailed me, and I hate that it feels like a betrayal to Joe when I feel how much I love my dad and how grateful I am for him, and I hate that it feels like a betrayal to my dad when I think about how much I loved Joe and was grateful for Joe. I wish something still made sense.

I'm glad I got to see Panic live the times I did. They were one of the best concert/tour experiences I've ever had and the memory will always be really special to me. I'm bummed out that I'll never get to have that again, now, but am trying to see the positive side that Zack offers. I'll really miss you, Panic v.1.5. Thanks for the good times. And my sympathies and good thoughts are with those on my flist who've lost their band. I'm so sorry, guys. *muchlove*

Other news: I've had a lot of sleepness nights lately, tossing and turning re: the trashy vampire novels. I'm so anxious and nervous about this. It's sort of sick. I'm so scared they're going to muddle along and sell ten copies each, which might sound like ordinary author-fear but it's not like I have an actual publisher with promotional money or even a print run backing me up, you know? They're just e-books.

The only book I know of, off the top of my head, which made it big after an initial online release is 'House of Leaves', and I'm not so stupid as to think my pathetic little vampire nonsense about teenagers and punk shows and folklore is anywhere near the realm of House of Leaves as a work of fiction.

I'm eight thousand words into book four and the writing itself is fun, because it's always fun, but I'm so tired, you guys. I'm tired all the time. It's winter and it's cold and I never have any money, and I look at my site and it tells such a lie, it makes me look like someone who's actually doing this writer/pop-culture thing and making a go of it, rather than the reality of a total failure who lies awake at night and hates herself for sucking so hard.

I'm trying to write another book at the moment, as well as book four, an unrelated novel that I entertain vague and doubtlessly futile hopes of really selling for real money someday. And so when I'm working on book four, there's a little resentful voice in the back of my head demanding to know why I'm not using the energy on something legitimate, or at least on this other book. And I hate that, I hate it so much, because I genuinely do love writing the Wolf House books, even if they're hardly high art or even especially good.

They make me HAPPY, and I hate that my brain will never let me do something for very long just because it makes me happy -- why can't that be a good enough reason? Why does it have to matter to me so much whether or not anyone else ever gives a shit? Someone I have a lot of respect for told me that I'd shot myself in the foot by committing to this series, and lately it's sure felt like I'm dragging along a damaged limb.

Augh. I don't know. It's been a really rough few weeks and I should probably be kinder to myself, but right now I just feel so useless and pathetic and the books are going to fail so hard and then my heart is going to break, and I'm not sure if I'm strong enough right now to deal with a broken heart. I'm so tired.

So hey, I had a terrible night's sleep and feel like crap! And yet this morning already rules, because Audrey loves me and wants me to be happy. AHHHHHHH HOW DOES SHE DRAW THE INSIDE OF MY HEAD. AHHH.

♥

So for the last two days I have been trapped in a crazy-bad depressive episode, which is vastly unfair as I am pretty sure that I currently take approximately all the Effexor in the world each morning. It has sucked a lot! I dislike being miserable and feel I have probably done my fair share of it for this decade already.

If I had any kind of writing talent and/or energy at all, I would attempt to write a story about what would happen if Kris got bitten and turned by a vampire on the Idol tour and Adam found out, because apparently my brain has not grown up one single bit since I was sixteen years old. Seriously, I'm actually kind of concerned at how stunted my development as a person apparently is.

But anyway, I am too tired and too crap to attempt such a tale, so here instead is a picture of what I imagine Kris as a vampire would probably be like: Very elegant and gothic, there.

Anyway, um, let's play the questions game. Ask things about me you are curious to know! I will probably eventually answer, and will do my best to do so honestly.

Word counts as of right now:
Re-write of Long Live The Black Parade: 15, 000
Wolf House book four: 3, 300
A Little Frankenstein Princess: 0
(someday someday someday oh man I fail so hard)

Not too shabby for a month where my brain has been decidedly otherwise occupied.

This morning I had to speak to someone who works in an office which communicates a lot with the office I work in, and she knew about my bereavement leave and all that. Her opening words on the phonecall were "Hey Mary! Did you have a good break?". Oh, yeah, it was peachy fucking keen, thanks for asking! Ugh, humanity, please don't make me smite you, it messes up my hair.

Last night on the phone to my mother I tried to explain my Leonard Nimoy crush. She thought what I actually meant was that I appreciate him as an artist and am fond of his character, and so she tried to explain to me that this isn't really what a crush is, a crush is a physical attraction to someone. I may or may not have used the words 'HIT IT LIKE THE FIST OF AN ANGRY GOD' in my reply. She still didn't believe me. Whyyyyyy is it so hard to comprehend that I desire Spock Prime to ravish me until I am ruined for all sex with other men?

Speaking of sex with other men (THIS IS THE BEST SEGUE I WILL EVER HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE IN MY LIFE DON'T EVEN LIE), oh, Cheeks, you make Pete Wentz look restrained in his social networking life choices.

Internet, I have been awake for many many lots of hours and have work in a couple more, and I cannot sleep.

But! Good things: 1) violin_road is reading Wolf House #3 at the moment and informs me she is going to marry all of the characters, which I think means she likes it, and 2) This is a lovely, perfect Adam/Brad story, I approve of all it chooses to be, and 3) this gif, because all posts should end with Jim Kirk.

WHAT WHAT WHAT

REAL LIFE YOU ARE STILL MY FAVOURITE FANDOM

WHAT

Hay Audrey hay, I think you should click here. Enabling is ever so fun, yep yep.

Everyone else should click here because Bex wrote Adam and Gerard shopping and it is GLORIOUS and seriously, Bex is lucky she's such a charming soul because otherwise I would totally go all Sylar on her and attempt to learn the secrets of her brain.

Starting the regular book-writing schedule for Wolf House #4 today ommmmg TRASHY YA VAMPIRES WHEEEE \o/

Guuuuuuuys, in the tradition of lusting for Ernte clothing (and everything at Haute Macabre ever), I have mad mad clothing-lust for Skin Graft Designs, who yes I discovered via Adam Lambert (he is 'glam rivals' with one of the designers and wears their clothes onstage) but seriously, just LOOK, I am drooling at the pretty and can honestly say for the first time EVER that I understand why some girls get gushy over wedding dresses, because the 'Shelby' one at the bottom here has made me want to get married just so I can have an outfit that excellent.

ANYWAY. Skin Graft, turns out, is also the "day job" of Miss Katie Kay, sometime tour manager of Amanda Palmer (she wears Skin Graft onstage sometimes too) and once-upon-a-time dancer for Panic at the Disco.

EVERYONE PRETTY KNOWS EACH OTHER.

Edit: Photo! OH KATIE KAY YOU ARE SO DELICIOUS ALWAYS.