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Identity Bytes:
Name: Guess. Go on. I won't stop you.
Psuedonym: Dagger. Dag, if you like.
Contact: Dagerswift@aol If you can't figure out that a .com goes at the end of that, I probably don't want mail from you anyway. ^_~
I dig: taekwondo; creating/appreciating music, art, or literature; fedoras; the air after a snowfall; good conversation; Indian and middle eastern food; rice; brown paper packages tied up wi- oh, hell.
Sucks to: people who confuse debate with shouting the same opinion/phrase over and over, raw cauliflower, hateful rap/punk/etc., a compulsively fast-paced and unemotional society
Location: the Chicagoland area
They give me cardboard box to live in:
Pitas.com
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Wednesday, November 27, 2002
07:23 p.m.
listening to: "Tainted Love" - Soft Cell
I return triumphantly to the land of the living!
... oh, fine I return to the land of the living at an unremarkable hour of the afternoon, tired and with a few dollars in change. Bloody spoilsports.
Cliff's Notes on L. D. Swift's October and November in Dagger's Life:
Characters:
Dagger: the less-than-stable protagonist, fedora aficionado and hack extraordinare. A poor ragamuffin on the mean streets of 19th-century London...
Oh, wait... That's Dickens' retelling of the story. Bugger. Scratch that last line, then. Right. Moving on.
Band: Massed hive-mind composed of separate Students (see 'School') who, by merging with the hive-mind, become known as 'Performers', led by a mysterious higher force known only as 'The Director'. The Band metamorphoses bi-yearly, dividing the lives of the Performers into two seasons. For the past four years, it has counted Dagger among the number of these Performers.
School: A conglomerate of individuals (though not quite a hive-mind), its members known as 'Teachers', several of whom hold responsible each of a lower caste known as 'Students'. The Teachers are notable in that they seem to possess a greater amount of free will within their numbers than the Performers, though both are bound by certain, sometimes contradictory, obligations.
Plot synopsis:
The story of two months follows the growth of Dagger as she attempts to obey those Teachers she is held responsible to, while at the same time maintaining the responsibilities of her Performer role. The end of the story brings the end of Dagger's last marching season, and the subsequent pain of severance from an aspect of the Band. Of note are the side-quests pursued in addition to the main goal, including the pursuit of the difficult Coll Egeapps and the elusive Ms. Muse.
"... dear God, my eyes! It burns!" ~New York Times
... yeah. Anyway!
As you all may or may not know, I shall have the opportunity to meet the wonderful Amber this Friday. The weatherman predicts a 95% chance of mayhem, with chaos through the afternoon.
In case I don't get to say it again, happy Turkey (or turkey-like substitute, or whatever if you're a heathen who hates fowl in general) Day, everyone!
Saturday, October 5, 2002
10:14 a.m.
listening to: The Eagles' "Hotel California". On vinyl, baby.
Mmm. The sweet, sweet bliss of a silent house. This has been, conservatively, a Hell Week TM. Yesterday evening saw a sort of celebration of its ending, complete with large numbers of friends, similarly grateful, going out for pizza, then to a local park for several rounds of Capture The Flag. Then, a short break at home, followed by a boyfriend showing up on my doorstep with ice cream sandwiches and anime on DVD.
I'm a very, very grateful person, for the life I have.
We drove to his house, watched anime on PSX2, ate Chinese takeout in his basement on his tiny basement television, and laughed at what dorks we are. I laughed at the fact that his contibution to our own little film-fest was Love Hina, while mine was Cowboy Bebop. Unfortunately, his TV cut out before we could see Episode 5 of Bebop. I happily listened to it on the speakers anyway. He curled up on the floor and fell asleep. So cute.
A ride home from his father later, I crawled into bed (well, futon, but who's counting) just short of one in the morning and crashed. And here I am this morning, lazy and content and unused to this whole concept of a free Saturday. My band almost always calls all-day Saturday rehersals.
Whoops, gotta turn the record.
And now, responses. Whee, I feel like a real blogger!
Kits: I would rub in that Marlon never really changes anyone, but rather only brings out what was there all along. But now is neither the time nor the place. I can't say much more than that I'm sorry. (despite that the back of my mind tells me, cynically, that what is done is already done. i try not to listen.). I'll be praying over here. My hopes are with you.
Monday, September 9, 2002
08:14 p.m.
listening to: the Fight Club opening theme
And there was a great voice in the heavens, saying "Lo! let us make a webpage, to inaccurately convey our image to the masses." And the creator, slightly less-than-omnipotent but still fond of addressing itself in the plural, made the weblog. And it was good.
Pfft. If only.
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Satisfy your short attention span.
A card-carrying member of:
Blue Tumbleweeds
Role-Play Network
Buddies with:
Kit
Amber
(... I'm so lonely)
Amused/Sustained by:
Google
Dictionary.com
The Onion
Yerf
Elfwood
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