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This here is my juke joint.

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LJ idol? [Feb. 25th, 2014|09:00 am]
Am thinking about it. The husband seems to think it would be fun to read my stuff again.
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Envoys - Chapter 5 [Jan. 10th, 2012|08:57 am]
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Envoys - Chapter 4 [Jan. 10th, 2012|08:51 am]
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Envoys - Chapter 3 [Jan. 7th, 2012|10:28 am]
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Envoys - Chapter 2 [Jan. 3rd, 2012|11:48 am]
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Envoys - reposting [Jan. 2nd, 2012|12:52 pm]
Hey all. I've found a way to use my journal again. I'm trying to keep up my fiction writing, so I'm going to try to keep to posting a new chapter here every two weeks. In the meantime, I'm going to post existing chapters, just to have everything here. Behind the cut is Chapter one.

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Random or not? [Oct. 13th, 2011|03:03 pm]
[Earworm: |Laura Marling, Rambling Man]

So Juniper has a new friend this year. We have heard nothing but C this and C that, and C and I want to hang out, and can I go for ice cream with her and her dad?

As any nosy (read: PARANOID AS ALL HAYLL) parent would do, I naturally inquired as to the whereabouts of the mother. This was when I learned that C’s mother died when she was 8 (which would make it about three years ago).
Cue me immediately falling into a vat of sympathy ooze.  Also cue me suddenly having an “ah-ha” moment over the intensity of their friendship*.

Anyway,  it’s really neither here nor there, except in the context that C is being raised by her dad. They recently moved to the city from a province over. We met him last night.

As we’re chatting, my husband asks (and this is strange enough, because he really doesn’t ask) “What do you do for a living.”
Can you imagine my shock when he informed us he was a writer? A FICTION writer? A PUBLISHED fiction writer? Who is currently acting as the writer in residence for a local organization?

Funniest part? Buddy gave me a huge grin when he said it, causing him to (of course) ask what that was all about. So I ended up mentioning that I write a serial for an online publication. 

First thing he said (and raccoonbonapart, this is for you) "Oh, like Dickens!" 

It’s like someone walked in *carrying my dream job* on their person. I wanted a piece of that like a sugar addict wants a Krispy Kreme. It’s amazing he didn’t leave pantsed, fleeced and with a sudden occupation at a corporation.

Anyway, an incredibly sweet man, who just seems to marvel at the wonders of humanity, most particularly, the wild and wooly behavior of young ladies. His daughter was almost entirely silent, but with a shy smile and big, glowing eyes.

The rest of the night, Buddy and I would randomly turn to each other and muse about it. So utterly random, to have someone with your dream job just randomly show up at your door for utterly unrelated reasons. 


*Not to say that that’s the only reason – just that not having a present mother is gonna shape you some.

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Idea inadvertently supplied by [Sep. 29th, 2011|01:15 pm]
yshaloo:

Currently noshing on: Ginger ale and chocolate covered raisins. 

You? 
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Splat. [Sep. 26th, 2011|01:48 pm]
[Earworm: |Zola Jesus, 'Vessel']

Is it the time of year, or still some manner of post-vacation hangover? All I know is that the weekends feel like they’re vanishing while I’m turned around to look at the sale on tinned tomatoes.  

However, the fact that I accomplished an Actual Second Chapter of writing has pleased me to no end. My deepest appreciation to one short-statured raccoon, who gave me exactly the deadlines I needed to keep going. Writing fiction is giving me more pleasure now than it ever has. A legacy of ljidol, or due to the state of being fulfilled generally? I don’t know, me. All I really know is that the lingering echoes of Chapter Two satisfaction were an awesome sprinkling on my weekend.

Random question : How long have you owned your iPhone and how long did it take you to feel like you were the phone’s master? I think mine is still laughing at me. 
Link10 testified!|Testify!

Howdy [Sep. 13th, 2011|08:51 am]
[Earworm: |Built to Spill, aisle 13]

Whew. Well, I could tell you about everything that’s been doing since the last time I posted, but hells – that would be remarkably long-winded and likely not even remotely interesting, so I’ll forgo that. We can all just pretend that I was never gone, right? K? H’lo?

Anyway, I hesitate, but I think I can safely say that I’ve just come off of one of the best vacations I’ve ever had. Not because of the camping (which was awesome) or the week afterward that Buddy and I used for vegetating (which was sweet).

No, it was just the fact that I was on vacation, and I’d really and truly earned it. Lots of work just to get myself out the door at work, and when I left, it was with satisfaction.  In fact, it was so good I was ready to come back to work. I know, this makes me deranged and possibly in danger
of mental collapse, but there you have it.

I’m hoping I’ve found some equilibrium, between vacationing and coming back. A girl can hope, right?

Made the best greek salad EVER for dinner last night. I think I’ve figured out how much soaking in dressing the feta and onion need in order to be purrrrrrrfect in the salad. I have leftovers of it in my lunch and it’s all I can do to prevent myself from scarfing it for breakfast. I don’t think red onions are in the “Breakfast Food Hall of Fame”, no matter how much I might wish it at the moment.
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(no subject) [Sep. 10th, 2011|01:02 pm]
[Tags|]
[Where I'm at: |Canada, Manitoba, City Centre]

I'm now on here via my iPhone. Have a funny feeling you'll be seeing more of me.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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So that was LJIDOL [Jun. 2nd, 2011|07:53 am]
Out of 261 (I think that was the number), I was number fifteen or sixteen left (depending on how you look at the numbers). Not bad. Thanks to all of you who supported me and cheered me through this. You all are just awesome.

The real trick now is to figure out how I can maintain some kind of fictional writing schedule.
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Top 16 [May. 30th, 2011|01:51 pm]
http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/466534.html#cutid1

It's voting time again, and yes - we're down to the top 16. Not bad for a n00b, hey? Anyway, these are all extensions/revisions from last time, so don't be surprised if they all seem a bit familiar. Voting ends on Wednesday!

Cheers!
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LJIDOL - Week 26b - revise the least popular from 26a [May. 29th, 2011|10:17 am]
When she woke up, she was nestled comfortably on what felt to be her battered old memory foam mattress. Her arms were curled up across her chest, her legs were pressed up against her belly. She was entirely relaxed. That is, until she tried to stretch her legs and realized that her mattress appeared to have swallowed her. Feeling a twinge of her old claustrophobia, she pushed herself up. Or she tried. She hadn’t moved more than a few inches when her head slammed up against a roof. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that there was a clear plastic bubble over her head. Before the claustrophobia could fully rouse and start her screaming like a tornado siren across the plains, the bubble was suddenly lifted, and a waft of warm air, tinted with machine-smell, bubbled in toward her.

“Ah, good. This one’s already awake. Wrap her up and get her ready for processing, boys.” The high lispy voice had gone even higher at the end of the sentence, but before she could so much as bring her eyes to focus on the sea of lavender and grey in front of her, someone slapped a patch on her arm and the whole room started to fade away. Before her eyes completely closed on the scene, she realized that they were passing by wall after wall of the clear plastic bubbles, each different, but each bearing the unmistakable marks of having been molded to a woman’s form.

As her eyes reluctantly closed, she had time to produce one, last coherent thought.

Am I a Barbie?
---------------------------------------------------------
The next time she woke up, she had no comforting moment of thinking she was in her own bed. Even before she opened her eyes, she could feel the difference. She was laying on a thin mattress that reminded her of nothing so much as the napping mats from kindergarten. When she opened her eyes, the sense of dislocation was confirmed as she tried and failed to find the ceiling of the room she was in. She knew there had to be a ceiling, she just couldn't see far enough to find it. A quick glance to her left and right confirmed that there were beds on either side, also reaching out into the distance far enough that she couldn't see the last ones on either side.

A hot, tinny rush of saliva flooded her mouth as she fought against a rising sense of panic. Then she felt the hands sliding along her right leg, and all reason left her. She kicked out, making a satisfying connection between her heel and the person whose hands had been on her. Completing the kick brought her off the bed and to her feet. On the ground, looking up at her with an expression of amazement was a man wearing a light purple jumpsuit.

Before she could process her next move, and before the man in the jumpsuit could recover from the first blow, she began to remember.

. . . you will wake up disoriented and without a complete set of memories. This is normal after extended space travel, especially given the modifications we have made to your body and your mind. . .

"I did this," she whispered. In that moment, she remembered it all. She remembered being in a hospital. She remembered the three strangers who had calmly and coolly explained that they were space travellers from the central solar systems. She remembered the woman explaining that the central systems desperately needed help - and they wanted her. She remembered agreeing and then . . . what?

The man in the jumpsuit was still on the floor, hand on jaw, watching her. His body was clearly tensed, but his eyes were more watchful than wary. It was evident that at least some of her thoughts were apparent on her face. It was only after several moments of mutual staring that she recalled why he was on the ground in the first place.

"Oh! Oh God, I'm so sorry," she said, immediately moving to his side. "I didn't think . . ."

He took his hand away from his face. Blood trickled down the side of his mouth. He pursed his lips and spit into his hand. Amongst the blood there was a very large piece of tooth. He looked at it thoughtfully, his tongue swishing against his cheek.

"Oh my God," she said again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even know I could kick that hard." It sounded lame, but she wasn't sure what else to say. Other than the blood on his chin, he was quite beautiful. Hair so blonde and shiny it begged to be touched, eyes a startling, clear grey - the whole picture was perfect. Or it had been. She wanted to apologize all over again.

Surprisingly, he smiled. She could see what remained of the molar she'd somehow managed to kick loose. Even with that, the smile was so warm and gentle that it sent shivers down her spine.

"It's okay. I deserved it. I should know better than to touch a new envoy before she's in full recall. I think I should count myself fortunate that it wasn't much worse. This is easily remedied." As he spoke, he pulled a white pencil-shaped item from somewhere inside his jumpsuit. He touched the tip of it to the bloodied tooth chunk in his hand and then again to the broken molar in his mouth. He put the tool away and tossed the tooth into his mouth. After a moment of swishing, he smiled. The tooth was back in place, as though nothing had ever happened.

Seeing her look of shock, his smile broadened. "You're not on Kansas anymore, Dodo."
Link27 testified!|Testify!

LJIDOL Week 26 Topic 3 of 3 – Turtles all the way down [May. 17th, 2011|02:31 pm]
“. . . so that’s about the end of the story. They explained that I was formerly an Earth woman, who was offered a second chance at life to come out here. I’ve been here ever since.”

The woman who had spoken did not look old enough to be able to claim the years implied in her voice. Her dark brown hair was as soft and silken as her skin. Her sparkling white teeth and shining eyes screamed youth and vigour.

“So how many times have you been Reset?” he asked.

She gave him a mock frown and fluttered her scarf toward him. “You know a girl never tells that.”

He smiled, finding her little pout adorable. He reached over to run his thumb along the bottom lip, enjoying the plush texture. But abruptly, he pulled back, frowning slightly. “So you were dying there?”

She nodded, taking another sip of the molten gold liquid. “Of cancer.” Seeing the question in his eyes, she nodded. “I know, it doesn’t exist here. It’s one of those Earth things, I guess.” She shrugged, making even that gesture look elegant and somehow sexual. “They were kind enough to remove that memory, too. How can I be upset by something I don’t remember?”

“But surely you remember Earth.” He said, leaning forward to fidget with the end of the yellow scarf, pulling it loose from her chest absently. He didn’t even look at what he’d uncovered, content to examine the scarf.

She laughed, a great gust of noise that pealed across the ceilings in the room, causing his gaze to startle upward – just in time to see her breasts bouncing slightly with the laughter.

He immediately dropped the scarf and cupped his hands around the orbs, his eyes completely focused on the prizes in his hands. She sipped her drink again and smiled at the naked lust on his face. Even though he’d clearly forgotten the topic, she hadn’t. “Of course I remember Earth. I remember everything about it. I even remember my own life experiences. I just don’t remember any people I might have known. They said it was better that way.”

Still mostly entranced by the nipples hardening in his hands, he mustered enough of his usually impeccable social manners to ask, “Do you think its better?”

For a moment, he saw an emotion cross her face that wasn’t desire, joy or affection. He felt privileged to receive that rare peek into the mind of the woman beside him. For all that she was the crown jewel of the entire pleasurecruise line, he didn’t think many were awarded even this amount of intimacy.

“I don’t know, honestly. But I agreed to it, so I obviously thought I would be better off.” Suddenly, her mood turned and her eyes once again took on their famous sparkle of mischief. “And what if all those memories prevented me from performing this great service to the public? Wouldn’t you be sad?” As she said the last word, her hand slid down the long V-neck opening of his robe, only to find that his attention had not wavered very far from her attributes.

Then it was his turn to be serious. He captured her hand in his and stilled it. “I would be sad. Many of us would. Thirty live male births for every one female birth.” He shook his head. “Without women willing to come from Earth and the other outliers, life would be . . . unbearable.” His last word was a gasp, as her hand once again began moving.

“Oh,” she said, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck. “I don’t know about unbearable. With so many men giving up on the opposite sex entirely and taking the lavender, surely life wouldn’t be so . . . hard.” Again, she used the machinations of her hand to punctuate their conversation. This time, all he could emit was a low moan.

She took a last sip from her glass before putting it down and sliding onto his lap, facing him. The silk between them heated up instantly, creating a pleasant combination of friction and warmth. “They’d just have more reason to sort out the problem.”

Despite the effects of heat, friction and her warm, musky smell, a glimmer of intelligence re-entered his gaze. This was, after all, his area of expertise. He sat up, dislodging her slightly from her seat in his lap.

“Oh, we’ve been trying to establish a cause for years. We really do think it’s something to do with the concentration of planets within the centre of the galaxy having some kind of impact on population or on physiology. But we’ve been studying this for as long as we’ve got recorded history. What we are sure of is that Earth and the other outliers were put out there for a reason – to breed up stronger, healthier women and preserve the species, should the central planets fail.”

Interested now, she stayed where she was, perched above the centre of his lap. “Well that worked – too well. I know Earth isn’t that bad yet, but I hear both Atlantis and Anasazi are both overrun with people. What if humanity moved into the central galaxies to prevent that from happening in the first place?”

He grabbed her arms tight, his eyes intense. “My God,” he said, demonstrating his stellar grasp of Earth colloquialism, “what if its turtles all the way down?” The twinkle in his eyes told her not only that he was joking, but also that he’d bored of the subject at hand.

One of the reasons they called her the crown jewel of the line was because she always knew when it was time to get back to business.

With a slow smile, she said, “All the way down?” Parting the ties of his robe completely, she slithered slowly off his lap, her lips grazing down his chest. “Let me check that for you.”
Link33 testified!|Testify!

LJIDOL Week 26 Topic 2 of 3 – Open topic [May. 17th, 2011|02:30 pm]
When she woke up, she was nestled comfortably on what felt to be her battered old memory foam mattress. Her arms were curled up across her chest, her legs were pressed up against her belly. She was entirely relaxed. That is, until she tried to stretch her legs and realized that her mattress appeared to have swallowed her. Feeling a twinge of her old claustrophobia, she pushed herself up. Or she tried. She hadn’t moved more than a few inches when her head slammed up against a roof. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that there was a clear plastic bubble over her head. Before the claustrophobia could fully rouse and start her screaming like a tornado siren across the plains, the bubble was suddenly lifted, and a waft of warm air, tinted with machine-smell, bubbled in toward her.

“Ah, good. This one’s already awake. Wrap her up and get her ready for processing, boys.” The high lispy voice had gone even higher at the end of the sentence, but before she could so much as bring her eyes to focus on the sea of lavender and grey in front of her, someone slapped a patch on her arm and the whole room started to fade away. Before her eyes completely closed on the scene, she realized that they were passing by wall after wall of the clear plastic bubbles, each different, but each bearing the unmistakable marks of having been molded to a woman’s form.

As her eyes reluctantly closed, she had time to produce one, last coherent thought.

Am I a Barbie?
Link16 testified!|Testify!

LJIDOL Week 26 Topic 1 of 3 - Get a grip [May. 17th, 2011|02:27 pm]
The toughest part of packing women is the arms.

Grot wasn’t a particularly intelligent man. His great, hulking form had nearly kept him out of space travel for good, since he took up more oxygen than the average space traveler. But he’d always known that he wanted to see the stars for the rest of his life, so he made himself useful. He learned how to package women for space travel so well that there wasn’t another person they liked to take on these trips. Lesser packers would end up scrunching the women into the press and form foam in whichever way they flopped. Even though the women were deeply asleep and felt nothing, the uncrating process often showed atrophied limbs, deep bruises and some strange phenomenon known as bedsores. All of these things could be repaired, of course, but no one waiting on the other end was ever happy about it.

Grot had the system mastered. When he was preparing to crate a load, he’d take all the cargo and lay it against the foam. Then he’d leave. Go get a coffee, take a break, have a nap, enjoy the simple pleasures of Earth - whatever.

When he came back, the women would all have changed positions. He’d discovered early on that it didn’t matter how deeply asleep they were, they’d all eventually revert to a more comfortable position. Some would be splayed out completely, taking up all of the foam space with their mass. Others would have curled up into balls. No matter what position they ended up in, he’d leave them.

Except for the arms. Those took extra work. Grot would go down the line of large foam squares, methodically pulling at the arms of each woman, testing flexibility and the position in which they naturally fell. After some deliberation, he’d arrange the arms properly, get a good, solid grip and then press the women firmly into the foam for final shipping. After that, it was a simple matter of affixing the lids.

It wasn’t a tough job, but it was one that Grot excelled at. He was chosen over and over for his ability to pack cargo with minimal fuss. He was even more popular with Acquisitions because he never fondled the goods more than was strictly necessary. While he was a graysuit and therefore obviously preferred women, he had standards.
Link18 testified!|Testify!

Voting time! [May. 13th, 2011|08:32 am]
[Earworm: |the head and the heart - Winter Song - ]

It's voting time, and guess what? Your support has helped me make it to the top 25. I'm truly grateful, you lot.

Anyway, it's an interesting mix of fiction and non this week - have a look around and vote for your faves. We're losing four this week.

Thanks!

http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/461805.html
Link6 testified!|Testify!

LJIDOL - Week 25. Uncarved block - non-fiction [May. 12th, 2011|09:03 am]
You face a 10-year-old girl. Her wide, blue-grey eyes are framed in a delicate, heart shaped face, whose pale skin is marked only by a light smattering of freckles and a pair of impossibly rosy cheeks. Her lips are full and red and if she were smiling, you’d see the dimple that plays hide and seek on her left cheek. Her thick, brown hair, highlighted naturally by streaks of blonde and red, is closely tied in a pony tail. She is leaning over the top of a dining room chair, and she is sobbing.

You see this beautiful child crying, and in this moment, your energy fuses into a wish to take her back to the time when she was small, and all the world was her friend – when everything in her life was dictated by simple needs and simple wants. When her body was wondrous, simply because she could command it.

But now, she is crying because she believes she is fat. It is all you can do not to get up and throw out the television, the books, the movies – all of which surely helped her arrive at this moment. You want to destroy the noxious acid that is eating away at her.

Then you review your own behaviour – have you been careful about your own body image? Have you shown her that you don’t have to be a size 0 model to enjoy your body? Have you been caught frowning in front of a mirror, checking out all the angles and sucking in your gut?

She continues to sob, an abject sound of sheer misery. You want the words to fix this, but you know that anything you say will be hollow – you participate in the fight against your own negative body image every day, and if you knew how to make it go away, surely you’d have done so by now. You know that anything you say will be so very small against the crushing tide.

You can see that this beautiful child, poised on the threshold of womanhood, has lost something. She’s already starting to pay the price of admission into the sisterhood. When she was young, she was whole. The only shaping she received was by loving hands and loving minds. There were no jagged edges, no rough corners, no scars – every piece was carved off deliberately and gently, to help her emerge from her starting place.

Now you can see that others have chipped away at her, and you feel rage. You want to make them put back the pieces they’ve taken. You want to put them back, you want her pain to stop, you want her to feel as beautiful today as she did when she put on the princess costume and declared herself queen of the fairies.

You do what you can, though it feels painfully inadequate. You tell her she’s beautiful, and healthy and normal. You tell her that she’s too young to worry about these things. You tell her about how her body will continue to change over her life, and that she needs to find a way to love herself no matter what these changes bring. You show her videos with other girls talking about these feelings. You tell her she’s not alone.

She’s not alone. It’s such a pale thing, this fact. Yet it seems to comfort her. Softly, slowly, you use this information and everything else you can think of to smooth down this jagged cut. You hope you’ve done a good job, but as with anything that is shaped and carved, you won’t know the strength and resilience of what you produce until well after your part of the work is final.

You hope your shaping survives the caustic nature of the environment. You hope you’ve helped strengthen the fibers enough to withstand the blows. You hope.

Oh god, how you hope.
Link43 testified!|Testify!

It's voting time! [May. 5th, 2011|09:04 am]
We're perched on the very edge of the top 25, so if you're watching the competition closely, now's a good time to throw a vote in for your favorites!

http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/458636.html
Link6 testified!|Testify!

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