I Do Like Dragons, However

Saturday, January 5th, 2013

Hello to all bad Bruce Springsteen impersonations, people sitting on record players, diamond dogs, and fifteen year olds shamelessly stuck in the 1980s.

The other day I finally got my record player working IT’S FANTASTIC. We got it from my granddad a long time ago, but I could never figure out how to force it to make sounds. I figured it out, am very proud of myself, and now as I write this I’m listening to Bruce Springsteen. Why? Well, not because I LIKE Bruce Springsteen, but because somebody said the lead singer of Arcade Fire sings like him sometimes and I had to check for myself to see if this was true or not. Actually, Arcade Fire is about a billion and three times better than Bruce Springsteen, but don’t tell Bruce Springsteen I said that.

Anyway, it’s a lonely winter morning, and it’s very sunny and blue and snowy out there. I seem to be suffering from a particularly nasty bout of ADD today, because I keep forgetting what I’m writing about and turning to smile appreciatively at my record player, spinning on. Sometimes I’ve got attention problems, but don’t tell my old teachers, because they definitely never noticed.

So… what was I going to… oh yes, I’m reading this book. It’s called Eragon, and it’s about dragons. And a boy who rides a dragon. And evil sorcerers. While questionably original, it’s not that bad. There were moments when I felt like kicking it out the window, but all in all I’m enjoying it, even though I don’t love it. One of the main characters just died, and that is not cool, because I liked him more than I liked Eragon, whose perspective the book is written in. I don’t actually like Eragon– he’s annoying, and he talks like he’s forty, even though he’s supposed to be fifteen. He also keeps hurting himself. I’m kind of tired of hearing about his agony and slowly healing abrasions and cuts.

I mean, I really like dragons, but. I don’t like this book as much as I hoped I would. Dragons are fun, they’re enormous fire-breathing lizards, what more do you need, but Eragon is just so unoriginal that it grates on my nerves. The cities and towns all have these super-fantasy-style names, like for instance, Uru’baen, Ilia Feon, Doru Araeba, Farthen Dur, Carvahall. I’m sorry, how do I pronounce Uru’baen, exactly, and why must it have an apostrophe? What’s with fantasy names and apostrophes, anyway? Do they put them in there because it sounds foreign and unusual? Okay, I don’t need no apostrophes though, thanks.

I take back my meanness to Bruce Springsteen, that ‘I’m On Fire’ song is really good.

There is nothing else to say. I reccommend you check out Team Hunchback, my other blog, because it’s mildly amusing and pointless and absurd. The link’s in the post under this one. So, now I’ve got to watch my record player adoringly for a few hours.

Yours somewhat sincerely, (BRISINGR!), ~Onceabasementdog.

Team Hunchback

Friday, December 28th, 2012

Now for a completely unrelated, ridiculous, not-serious-in-the-least note…

I started a blog today called Team Hunchback. (Does anyone remember that?) You can find it here. If you’re at all interested, it’s all explained there. Why did I do it? Well, it’s a mystery, even to myself. I’m just a little insane, tis all. You can also follow my Team Hunchback thing on Twitter, @TeamHunchback.

By the way I forgot to say before, I hope all you Blog-Readers had a good Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate. Okay, I’m gone! I have to do more Team Hunchback stuff.

Yours no longer sincerely, ~Onceabasementdog

A Pause For Some Reflections

Thursday, December 27th, 2012

Hi.

My God, is it snowy out there. From my spot on the bedroom floor I can just see the top of a roof, covered in this fluffy layer of white, that looks fake, like a bad Christmas movie. The sky is utterly white. I remember once in grade two or something, the teacher asked us what colors the sky could be. Those unimaginative seven year olds replied, ‘Blue!’ and I said, ‘White!’ And the teacher looked at me and said, ‘No, the sky can’t be white.’

Oh, indeed?

I’m all out of funny. It’s just not there today. I had a panic attack/breakdown over the fact that I haven’t had any exercise at all in the past three or four months, and I need some soon or I’m going to explode. The weird thing is, I remain exactly the same weight, and skinny. How, I ask? It’s relieving to know I can do nothing but eat and play on the computer for three months straight and gain about half a pound– but I mean, I think I’d better start going for walks or something, anyway. I feel desperately out of shape and it turns out I can only jog three blocks in the middle of the night before I get winded and have to stop. Of course, the middle of the night has nothing to do with anything, except that’s just when I jog. I sprint around the block in the silence, with no lights on anywhere and no cars, and that satisfies me, somehow.

I’ve been reflective lately. Really reflective, and I don’t mean like when I go outside I’m shining with reflected sunlight. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot about things. For one, my evil stepmother got a lot eviller just the other day, and the whole situation’s been bugging me like a worm eating away at an apple– with the apple being my head, and the worm being my stepmother. I can deal with it, but not especially well, it turns out. I managed to get through the flurry of Christmas, drowned as it was in far too many pieces of turkey and so, so many people to interact with– but now that it’s over, and I can fall back into my routine of quietness, it’s all hitting me full force. I just can’t deal with emotional things very well, and every problem I have seems to be entirely emotional.

But the good news is, I got an accordion for Christmas, and it’s like a small piece of heaven dropped onto me. George Harrison, who’s in a band with me, will be extremely annoyed when he finds out. He said we don’t need the accordion in our band.

But don’t we?

(He doesn’t get to decide, heh heh heh.)

So look at it out there. Buried in so much snow. I want to go explore the forest behind our house, but it’s cold, and I’m tired, sleepy, and drained from everything, from my small breakdown and Christmas, and whatever else, all the little problems that add up. I finished a book yesterday and I’m annoyed because it could have been really good but wasn’t. I went to see The Hobbit yesterday with my dad and my uncle and it was incredibly enjoyable– if a little less epic than the Lord of the Rings ones. I miss my dad, I want to go on long walks at night and talk about philosophy and the state of the world with him. My mom’s good for talking with, but I’m almost completely sure she wouldn’t exchange opinions about modern society versus ancient society for an hour straight on a nine o’clock walk around the neighborhood.

I have so much more to say, but I’ll be here all day if I said all of it. It’s kind of refreshing to write a blog post that doesn’t have to be funny, for once. I can hear my cat digging and sniffling at something from downstairs, so I’d better leave and go check on that.

Yours sincerely, (for once), ~Onceabasementdog.

Impersonating Fictional Characters Is Fun!

Thursday, December 13th, 2012

Hello to all feathers, drifting softly through the sunlit air, coconuts on beaches, and airships caught in hurricanes.

If you’re on an airship caught in a hurricane: first, check to make sure you’re not just a reference of Skybreaker. If you’re not, then try flying above the hurricane into clearer sky. If this is not possible, batton down the hatches, or whatever you do on airships, get ready the parachutes or lifeboats, in case you’re flying over the sea. Send out a distress signal for help. And take a picture while you’re at it– I need stuff to blog about, thanks.

So, it’s a moderately cold Tuesday (or… Wednesday?) here in Onceabasementdogville, and obviously I’m VERY up to date, because I really do know what day it is and everything. Lately I’ve been avoiding my blog as much as possible, due to, well, stress mainly, because I’ve got like TWO DOZEN followers holy moly, jeez, where’d you all come from? And that’s a lot of expectations to satisfy. I feel like I have to be funny every time I blog, and sometimes it just doesn’t come to me. I try, but the funny plays a wicked game– sometimes I can write for ages and all of it’s mildly amusing, and sometimes I just stare deeply into the screen trying to desperately come up with a way to make something funny out of the word bookmark. Maybe I shouldn’t have been trying to make something funny out of the word bookmark. It’s just… not a funny word. Book-mark. Book… mark. It marks books, okay? That’s all it does.

Anyway, today I was getting into politics. I could like, talk about that… but no. I have something more interesting to relay to you, dear Blog-Reader.

It’s no secret two thirds of my waking life is taken up with staring at walls and scribbling sketches of dreamy fantasy heroes and then throwing them out because I feel like no one should ever look at them. (I’m probably right. Even MY eyes hurt when I look at them, and I created them.) So often, in the midst of this extreme wall-staring boredom, I do crazy things. Sometimes I interview the ladies who work at the local bookstore with my camera and pretend I’m doing a ‘documentary about bookstores’ so it isn’t so weird. Sometimes I dance in frightful, spasmatic circles in my room while I listen to Arcade Fire songs. Often, I take up residence on the chair in my room and gaze at the walls. Today, though, I held an interview– with myself.

Except, it wasn’t technically with myself. I mean, it was. But I was pretending to be this character from a Kenneth Oppel book. It was fun. I must be losing my mind, but it really was fun– I think I’ve got some strange, best-kept-secret talent for impersonating random characters from fantasy books, or sometimes from TV shows. I do a mean Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Anyway, it was the middle of the day and the house was empty, and my sister Little Girl of Horrors was out with my dad, and I had a sudden itch to interview myself with my old analog camera. I’ve done that in the past– conjured up imaginary characters and interviewed them. You don’t even want to know how weird it’s gotten. So I pulled on a black coat and assumed the persona of a fantasy character. I owned it, seriously. I hear they’re making a movie.

(HELLO SUMMIT PICTURES. I’M RIGHT HERE. I’M NOT A BOY, BUT I DO A EXTREMELY CONVINCING PORTRAYAL OF THE YOUNG VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN, YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE IT. I DON’T LIE.)

Yes, yes, I was assuming the character of Victor Frankenstein. Maybe that’s the absolute height of weirdness, but who cares? It was fun and as long as nobody ever sees that video, I won’t mind that it exists.

There’s probably something else of interest to talk about. Dunno. If you like books, then you’ll be glad to know I like books, too, and I’m reading this one called ‘The Scorpio Races’ by the lady who wrote that series that tried to imitate Twilight, except it was about werewolves. I never picked up that series, but The Scorpio Races is pretty good, so far. There’s something to it, anyway. I don’t like that the heroine is kind of lame, but she has her moments of coolness, so that sort of makes up for that. The hero is the usual teen fiction romantic interest stereotype. Calm, collected, powerful– can command man-eating horses. And by the way he would ‘be almost handsome if his features weren’t quite so sharp.’ Well, that’s that. I’m glad I know.

So, that book I’m trying to get published is still floating around not being published yet, and I’m still waiting for the possible rejection letter. The heroine in it is NOT lame at all, and I wish more heroines would be that way. They say girls are being better represented in books these days, but I still don’t quite believe it.

Anyway. I feel all sleepy and bored. I was going to write a poem about bookmarks, but all I can come up with is this meager offering:

Once I owned me a bookmark;

Twas eaten along with me book

By an angry book-eating shark.

There you are. ~Onceabasementdog

The Terrible Teen Section

Friday, November 23rd, 2012

Hello to all USB sticks sitting in places where I’ll definitely forget about them, dogs on airplanes, and solar-powered monkeys.

Ah! It’s almost winter again! Don’t you just love winter? What with the holidays and the snow and the ice and the darkness and the NEVER-ENDING FRIGIDITY–

Never mind. I hate Onceabasementdogville. I want to live in a volcano or something. I bet it would be nice and warm THERE.

So, I like libraries. I do. I think I like them because they’re quiet, and familiar, and they always smell like books. (Well, that’s a surprise.) There’s a library pretty close to my house, and I bike there sometimes to peruse the various sections that I find an interest in. Usually I end up gazing blankly at the teen section, trying to decide which book I should take out, My Love Is A Beautiful Vampire, or The Day Everyone Turned Into Robots, solely on the basis of which one looks less horrible. Because, see, the teen section at my public library is an actual hell of paper and ink. I’ve only taken out maybe three good books from that wall of blatant torture, and they weren’t even fantastic or anything. I don’t know why the teen section has to be so horrible, it just is. I still have suspicions about the librarian hiding all the good books from me when I drop by.

Anyway, a while back I took these pictures of some books from the Terrible Teen Section. Assuming they don’t burn out your eyes the minute you look at them, I think you’ll be able to examine them and understand why exactly my faith in literature and human kind in general is plummeting:

Oh, but this is just a taste of the many horrors of the Terrible Teen Section, my dear Blog-Reader!

I almost have no words for this one. But I’ll try. So, you’ve got this invisible boyfriend. And you know, it causes all sorts of complications, I assume. I mean, all the other girls can SEE their boyfriends! But she can’t! Oh my God it’s so awkward!

Next one. It’s almost worse… somehow.

But what does that even MEAN? Is she more real than your average Joe? Or what? I can tell you one thing, though, with absolute honesty:

This is the best title I’ve ever seen.

Now, here’s the last one. Brace yourself…

Audrey, wait!
What? Why? What’s HAPPENING to her?

So, there you have it. If that doesn’t convince you modern teen books are spiralling (apparently literally) into absurdity, I don’t know what will.

Yours semi-truly, only when I’m not making fun of things, (and that’s never), ~Onceabasementdog

Ahhh, Fridays and Free Trials

Friday, November 2nd, 2012

Hello to all rocks sitting in puddles, leaves, wonderful, wonderful free music, and letters on pages.

Today I have discovered the eighth wonder of the world, known as ‘Rdio’. It’s like a way, way better version of iTunes, where all the music is FREE. I swear to God! It is! I’m not being paid to tell lies! I stumbled on it and it was like, come see all our free music! And I was like, No way, man. And it was like, No seriously! So I signed up for a free trial, and now I’m listening to awesome music and feeling very, very happy.

Ahh, free trials. Love them.

So it’s a Friday. I like Fridays. Just because they stand for the end of a week, and it makes me happy. Everything makes me happy today! Hurrah!

Right now I’m listening to Fleet Foxes, and my cat really likes it. He was sniffing the speakers, seeming very interested. Well, the cat’s got good taste in music, apparently. He also likes Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, but as soon as I started singing along he ran away. Huh. Anyway, I’m worried that I’m paying for all this somehow, but it’s probably true to what it claims, that I get like a two day trial for free or whatever. But I don’t care at the moment. I mean, Fleet Foxes! Magnetic Zeros! The Shins! Golly gee, I’m in alternative music heaven. Sigh.

I went to the Zombie Walk on the weekend. There’s no actual zombies, at least, as far as I know. Hmm. But anyway, basically what happens is a couple hundred people dress up and pour fake blood over themselves and walk around moaning and screaming BRAINS! and we walk from one part of the city to the other, and lots of people take pictures of us. I dressed up as a steampunk zombie. I was previously going to upload pictures and stuff but I have little to no patience lately for even trivial tasks, so I can’t make myself upload them all. See, this is why I never did my homework when I was at school. Ain’t got no work ethic, nope.

I feel seriously giddy. Giddy with happiness over good music. I’m listening to Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. I showed George Harrison one of their live performances and he literally could not handle how weird they are. In his defense they are pretty weird– a group of  hippy fellows who seemed to have stumbled straight out of either Burning Man or an abandoned house somewhere. But man, do they make good music.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just take to the road and live out a life as a musician. Maybe all this music is affecting my brain and making me crazy, but doesn’t that sound sort of cool? Just wandering here and there, playing songs, with no responsibility, no place to go, no things to do. I think that’s actually what the Magnetic Zeros do, pretty much. It’s just the problem is, I would never be able to convince George Harrison, who’s in a band with me, to take to the road and be traveling hippies.

Except I WOULD LOVE THAT.

Oh, whatever. One can dream. For now I’ll just have to live a boring mundane existence without the thrill of the open road.

Jeez, somebody get me off the music. Yours as ever somewhat truly,  ~Oncebasementdog.

Light and Fluffy and Meaningless

Monday, October 22nd, 2012

Hello to all sub-par high school rappers, dogs running after frisbees, small birds, and pumped up kicks. 

So. You all missed me. Right? You were like ‘Jeez! She hasn’t made a new blog post in like forever, we ought to storm her house with torches and pitchforks!’ Well, no need to fear or create an angry mob, I’ve returned, and I foresee many satirical and lightly amusing sentences to come. Read on my friends.

Why was I gone for a couple weeks, you ask? Well, let’s just say I saved the world. Oh yes, I did indeed. I saved the world by going on long bike rides, listening to music, and roaming the internet looking for bizarre Indie music videos. I’m so proactive! If I wasn’t in the world, why… well… things would be the same? 

Anyway, now that I’m on this paragraph, I realize I really don’t have much to say. I mean, I could detail exactly how I saved the world– but who wants to know? It’s a story for another day. I’m all out of serious writings. I’ve spent too much time lingering on sad realistic fiction books lately, and I need to fight it back with a light and fluffy, nice meaningless ramble. So what’s light and fluffy and meaningless? Sea monkeys? Soap operas? 

Well, anyway, the sad realistic fiction I’ve been reading all came from the terrible teen section at the local library. I swear they hide all the good books from me when I come in. How is it actually possible to  have an entire wall devoted completely to teen books, and yet, a very small margin of them are even readable? I mean, it’s not like I really know anything about any of them, but just by their covers I can tell they’re awful. And you might say, well, you can’t judge a book by the cover, but, OH REALLY? What about a cover where two pretty teenagers are lying on the grass together and the title is ‘Why Don’t You Kiss Me Now?’ 

I think it’s safe to say that one needs to be burned. Or at least, I won’t ever read it.

So, anyway. The sad realistic fiction book was The Goats. But it wasn’t about goats. It was pretty good, but I didn’t like the ending– it was about these kids who run away from their summer camp, and at the end they just headed tamely up to the people trying to track them down and get them back to their parents. I thought for sure they were going to keep living in the woods. But they totally wussed out and didn’t. Jeez. And there wasn’t even dragons or vampires or fairies or anything– it was just so… realistic. Bleh! 

On a personal side of the writing spectrum, I’m currently trying to figure out how to write a modernization of the classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde story. My version is set in the same time period, the 1800s, but Dr. Jekyll is a kid and it’s a lot more light-hearted. I mean, people die and he goes nuts at the end. But it’s still light-hearted. I’m also doing a Peter Pan rehash where Peter Pan is the antagonist and it comes from the point of view of one of the lost boys. I’m not sure if that one will work, but it’s pretty cool so far. Also the Mother is going to send away my book, Vaudeville, to a publisher– so it’s actually possible that I may become an actual honest-to-goodness writer, if they like Vaudeville and want to print it. Hurrah! Remember, the author of that awesome book you’ll definitely be buying and enjoying sometime in the future was me, Onceabasementdog.

Not much else is new on this end. I’m trying to become a rapper but I have such a pitiful teenage girl voice that every time I hear myself on a recording I cringe. It’s just better when I sing. Oh! That reminds me to remind you to check out The Sepia Trees on Youtube. Tis our band. We are semi-awesome. Seriously. 

Also, I might as well go on to command you to: 

1. Follow me on Twitter @onceabdog 

2. Follow me on Instagram @Parrotqueen. 

3. Compost what you can instead of throwing it out.

4. Be kind to sea monkeys. They’re… well… I guess they’re not exactly ‘people too’ but whatever, close enough.

5. And, uh, if you read The Goats, keep in mind they’re not goats.

Yours as ever sort of sincerely, sort of, ~Onceabasementdog. 

 

 

Further Adventures of the Biking Girl

Wednesday, September 19th, 2012

Hello to all tuskless walruses, pianos lingering over people’s heads, granola bars, flamingo-people and parrots on the shoulders of pirates.

I like going on bike rides. It’s no lie. There’s endless bike paths to follow around Onceabasementdogville, and the stores are so accessible, not like I have any money to access them for. I spent at least half an hour digging around the nuclear wasteland of my room for coins to buy a bottle of pop with, and came up with a loonie, ten cents and an American quarter. I also found a spiderweb where a spiderweb shouldn’t be and a weird bug that I’ll pretend I never saw.

So I donned my hat and pulled on my sweater and went out the door, Arcade Fire blaring in my earphones. The plan? Coffee. To waken my zombified, sleeping-in, school-missing brains, that is. So I went down to the Tim Hortons, squinting at the display board to try and figure out if my measly dollar-and-ten cents and American quarter would get me a coffee. I think I have bad eyesight, because it took me forever to figure out if the dollar and thirty-something cents was thirty-something or eighty-something. I still don’t know, I just dropped all my coins in the cashier’s hand and hoped it was good. I stared at him and hoped he’d overlook the American quarter, because honestly, I don’t know if they even take American money here where I am, not in America.

Anyway, I got my coffee, and went out and sat on the curb. I took out my notebook and started writing a little story. By the way, coffee tastes just like it smells: disgusting. The story I’m writing is about a girl living in the early nineteen hundreds. I don’t know what to call it, but I think it’s about stars or something. I took off again, having forced down two thirds of the coffee, which was all I could take. You know, I think caffeine doesn’t affect me that much, because after I drank it I went really really really really really fast on my bike and raced a squirrel but he was faster than me and ran up a tree which wasn’t fair and there was this BUZZING in my head and I can’t figure out what it was but anyway the big hill before the bridge was no problem, I went up it like, in five seconds flat, I assume my legs are getting stronger.

On the way home I went down the little path that went in front of all the big houses. There was this old lady walking by and she stepped aside and get this, I KNEW she would say something, and she did. She said in the haughty tones of a person from the rich end of town, “This is NOT a bike path.” Oh, okay. And I’m NOT going to make fun of you on my blog or anything.

For some reason my thoughts are going way faster than I can type and trying to write ‘me’ always come out ‘my.’ I don’t know why this is happening.

At one part on my bike ride these girls on a scooter passed me and they oinked at me, all right, whatever. I’m not a pig. At least I don’t think so. No, I’m pretty sure.

Jeez I think my head’s about to blow off. No more coffee ever for me, that was a bad idea.

I’m sure there’s more to say but running in circles for a long time is what I plan to do now. Okay, see you later, yours truly and stuff, ~Onceabasementdog.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, look at all those e’s! I can make more e’s! All I have to do is press down the E key. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

 

You’re Welcome, Kenneth Oppel

Sunday, September 2nd, 2012

Hello to all baskets of painted fruit, evil butterflies, dogs in swimming pools and dragon worshippers in San Francisco. 

I recently finished reading the second book in a series by the Canadian author Kenneth Oppel, which is… basically… about Doctor Frankenstein when he was a kid… and evil butterflies… and stuff. I liked the first book quite a bit more than the second one, though I did find things I loved in the second one, too. For instance: the evil butterflies. For another: the horrifying demon that tried to eat everyone at the end. And the sort-of evil, somewhat off his nut hero. Fun. 

It maybe sounds like I didn’t like it, but that’s not true. I really liked it. It’s just, I don’t know… it might’ve been a bit better. I kept rolling my eyes every time the demon roared in the distance and I almost hit my head against the wall when the mysterious ‘mist’ outside the house in the spirit world entered and killed the demon for them, like, poof ka-bam.

Anyway, now I have another year to wait for the third book, which I’m sure is inevitably coming. In the next one, our twisted hero will probably do something crazy again. You’ve gotta love Victor Frankenstein, am I right? History’s least accomplished, most possessed by evil forces mad scientist. I love Kenneth Oppel, and everything he writes is great (no matter how many evil butterflies there are) so I’m sure I’ll enjoy the next book, too. But… 

And then I had this great idea. I would write the third book FOR him. 

Oh, yes. I’m not kidding– I’m three pages in! So far: a mysterious message in a bottle that no one knows how to decode. Cool right? And I picked up on the last bit of the second book, where the evil, power-crazed hero sees a bolt of lightning and he thinks, WOW, SUCH ASTONISHING POWER! So I have the suspicion he’s going to be harnessing the power of lightning sometime soon. Therefore: what’s going to happen in my version of the third book in the series is, Doctor Frankenstein is going to be led to this weird guy who is trying to figure out how lightning works, and he’s going to learn from him and use it as a possible way to bring his dead brother back to life (which is the main theme of the last book, since his brother died and, I assume, will ultimately become Frankenstein’s monster.) 

 

So. Now I just have to let Kenneth Oppel know that I’ve got his third book covered, and it’s all good. 

I’ve noticed a trend in Kenneth Oppel’s books. In each of his three series, the first book is by far the best, the second is not as good, and the third is worse. So, if trends follow, the third book in this series will be the worst, too. As mean as it might sound, he really should just let ME write it. 

Adding to this topic, I loathe imagining how terrible the movie based on the first book, This Dark Endeavour, will be. Doubtless they’ll turn it into some kind of twisted romance, (because it does feature romance) and all the lovely horror and monsters and stuff will be put into the background. I hope the front of the actor’s head is as nice as the back of his head looks on the covers of the books. Seriously; I have yet to see his actual face. Well, if they’re hiding him for as long as possible because he’s horrendously ugly, at least the teenage girls won’t make a team out of him. God forbid that should happen. 

Anyway… and uh… about those American politics. Boring, aren’t they?

Okay, I can’t do it. I can’t write about serious things. Forget it! 

Yours truly, (gah! An evil butterfly landed on me and is sucking my life energy out to bring to its demon lord!), ~Onceabasementdog. 

 

I Really Can’t Think Of A Title For This One

Wednesday, August 29th, 2012

Hello to all… cows on farms… and… … leprechauns… and…

It’s been too long. I can’t do the quirky opening anymore.

Um, anyway. There’s been a long gap between this blog entry and the last one, and for that I apologize. The simple explanation is I’ve been so out of the writey-bloggey mood lately. A less simple explanation might be, I was attacked by mutant frogs, drugged and stuffed into the cargo hold of an airplane bound for the Himalayas, and woke up on a truck driving along a mountain road, just when it went over the edge and plummeted off into the air– miraculously, I survived, spent several weeks in a small village, stole a llama and rode to England, where I took a boat to New York, hopped a train and traded tales with a hobo on the way back home, and am now secure back in my basement and ready for more blogging. Except that explanation isn’t true.

I don’t feel all full of substance and meaning tonight.  If it’s theories on the origin of the universe you want, look elsewhere. But if it’s comical conversations on Youtube you want, look here! (Note that this conversation has been edited by the blogeress.)

sometimesbutrarely: Can you see the dislike bar? No, I can’t either.

Fetusgi (in reply to sometimesbutrarely): I can.

chuntusmac (in reply to Fetusgi): shut the *polite bleeping noise* up you *politer bleeping noise*

Fetusgi (in reply to chuntusmac): That’s just rude. He asked a question and I answered it. As it was a metaphor for him liking the song, you could say my answer was a metaphor for not really fancying it.

chuntusmac (in reply to Fetusgi): im sorry, ill take you out for a burrito sometime

Fetusgi (in reply to chuntusmac): Thanks. I look forward to it.

What a nice guy! Offering to take Mr. Fetusgi out for a burrito.

Anyway, I’m almost finished reading a pretty funny book. It’s called ‘The Prince of Neither Here Nor There’ by Sean Cullen. I was surprised by how witty the author is. It’s not often you find such excellent content on the shelves of the public library. I have a dark suspicion that either all the good books are conspiring to hide from me or there just aren’t any good books at all. In the last month the books I’ve taken out include: a story about a video game that kills people, a story about a vampire boy (oooh, how original) and the ‘lost years’ of Morgana La Fey, and I still don’t know what that one was supposed to be about. In the last two years I’ve read exactly two books that I thoroughly enjoyed from the library: a Kenneth Oppel one and a weird, fairly disturbing horror story about things that live in people’s bodies and make them do frightening stuff. But counting Sean Cullen’s book, I’ve now enjoyed three novels from the terrible teen section. Not to say my faith in the library has been restored; it’s still full of ridiculously awful little novels, among which are about three billion copies of Twilight, something called ‘I Will Walk A Thousand Hills For You’ or whatever it is, endless realistic fiction about a girl and her RELATIONSHIPS, OOOOOO, THAT SOUNDS FUN, and not to mention all the generic fantasy and spy thrillers and what have you.

I also took out ‘The Mob’, something about crows, and a Philip Pullman book. I hope neither of them are as awful as the story about the video game that kills people.

 

So, what else? I feel dangerously rambly today. I could go on forever about just about anything in my current frame of mind– I think it’s one of those nights where the only thing to do is run up and down the stairs a bunch of times to get the craziness out.

To wrap it all up for the day… I have no faith in public libraries, and I must go run up and down the stairs now. Also, it’s the Karate Master’s birthday tomorrow. I wanted to organize a parade to go by his house… but perhaps that’s too ambitious… and a touch insane. My new plan is to call him tomorrow and see if I can go over and play chess with him. The Karate Master is quite good at chess– I’ve only beaten him twice, and we’ve probably played five or six times. Also he has an awesome Super Mario Brothers chess set and I like it.

Yours as ever, mysteriously untruly only at the best of times, (figure that one out, why don’t you?) ~Onceabasementdog.