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[personal profile] snazzy
Scene: top bunk, 8 am. A messy dorm room covered in books-- the rest of the top bunk is covered in study materials. A laptop reigns supreme. There is a forgotten pen resting on its hinge point. One still sleepy-eyed false blonde is hastily reviewing materials.

Me: (voiceover) finals time finals time~ (aloud) See ya later, roomie.
(She hops halfway out of bed-- on the ladder down, she seems to notice the laptop is still open. She reaches over to close it.)

Laptop: :ominous crunch noise:

Me: shit

---

So I managed to break my laptop screen at the start of finals week, making this The Most Inconvenient and Awful thing that's happened since I got in a car wreck and did just enough damage to total my car. It's not been a good year for expensive electronics that belong to me.

Luckily, the laptop repair should only cost about $110, and it looks like a thing I could successfully repair myself. But I won't have time to do it before finals end, and so, this sucks.

Related, since my next finals aren't till thursday and friday and are going to be rather easy once I can actually, you know, look at the study materials, I am left with very little to do for the next two days. So I've been reading "The Girl with the Dragon tattoo" and fairy tales. It was mostly fairy tales today-- and if you've got the inclination, go pick up a copy of "My mother she killed me, my father he ate me." Short story collection of 40 "new" fairy tales, and they are all super awesome, and they tend to play around with their own fairy tale reality of archetypes and meta, if that's your thing. One of the stories is Cinderella enslaved by her prince, forced to make meth. So she goes into rehab and convinces a lot of the hospital staff to try some. It's all very "wtf" and at the interesting crossroads between reality and fantasy where drugs also reside. (Icon totally related)

And the poem:

Fairy-tale Logic
A. E. Stallings

Fairy tales are full of impossible tasks:
Gather the chin hairs of a man-eating goat,
Or cross a sulphuric lake in a leaky boat,
Select the prince from a row of identical masks,
Tiptoe up to a dragon where it basks
And snatch its bone; count dust specks, mote by mote,
Or learn the phone directory by rote.
Always it’s impossible what someone asks—

You have to fight magic with magic. You have to believe
That you have something impossible up your sleeve,
The language of snakes, perhaps, an invisible cloak,
An army of ants at your beck, or a lethal joke,
The will to do whatever must be done:
Marry a monster. Hand over your firstborn son.

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snazzy: panda cake; cures depression (Default)
snazzy

January 2016

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