fact & sex in the Invisible (Philip K.) Fantasy
Trish's showdown with Bridget & Vanessa occurred yesterday, before work -- the entire issue was a big misunderstanding... but? the yelling?
After Trish left for work Friday, I ran over to the Invisible Albertson's for some yogurt & some dish soap for Trish in the kitchen. The big bottle from Sam's Club is very close to empty.
The first thing that I did, once I'd come back home was to crit someone's fantasy on Critters: interesting piece, lots of sexual metaphors (which inspires me); so-so plot, nonetheless, F&SF might print it -- I really don't care too much for the material in that magazine.
Once I finished with that, & ate my leftover mac-&-cheese, I resumed work on the science fact article that I intend to submit to Analog. Currently am discussing the evolution of causality, & how it effects Philip K. Fantasy, especially, in neo-Freudianism, one's Dick.
Scanners live in vain.
When I reached a stopping point -- symbolism of the Green Lion -- I put on a vid-flick, one of our music DVDs, then waited for Trish to come home.
She turned into Cranky Bear!
Into the nearest phone booth! I, too, became Cranky Bear! The awesome super-power to hurt people's feelings callously.
We had this big kind of pork sausage the Invisible Food Bank had given us Thursday; she insisted that I couldn't open the package, chased me out of the kitchen.
Then she started the whole "I see pink" routine. Whenever we're having meat, she has to chop it up in tiny pieces, looking for "pink"; the slightest bit of imagination that there might be some relegates the meat to the microwave for 3 minutes.
Of course, this wouldn't hurt if the meat was actually half raw. But her anxiety has her going in for overkill. Once we had some chicken -- & she scrapes off all the (yummy!) coating to "check" it -- that, though obviously singed, she wanted to stick in the microwave for 3 minutes, a figure I talked her down from -- it was still obviously unnecessary.
Then I watched the tube for a bit. Trish wanted to take a shower, whereas I'd expressed interest in a BJ. I wanted to watch one of our strippers porno-vids until ready for a Viagra; Trish threw a fit, so I wanted to play the keyboard instead.
Then she threw an even bigger fit.
Finally, I actually did watch the t&a-vid, Trish talked some K. Fantasy; it surprised me: I don't care if Trish wants to do the bi-femme thing, but if it resolves into jealousy & anger a few months down the line, I'll wish there'd been no integration of K. into our relationship, kissy face or otherwise.
I still love my Bumble Bee Girl. Perhaps it's just her personality disorder acting up again -- life at the border...
...there will always be Hope.
After Trish left for work Friday, I ran over to the Invisible Albertson's for some yogurt & some dish soap for Trish in the kitchen. The big bottle from Sam's Club is very close to empty.
The first thing that I did, once I'd come back home was to crit someone's fantasy on Critters: interesting piece, lots of sexual metaphors (which inspires me); so-so plot, nonetheless, F&SF might print it -- I really don't care too much for the material in that magazine.
Once I finished with that, & ate my leftover mac-&-cheese, I resumed work on the science fact article that I intend to submit to Analog. Currently am discussing the evolution of causality, & how it effects Philip K. Fantasy, especially, in neo-Freudianism, one's Dick.
Scanners live in vain.
When I reached a stopping point -- symbolism of the Green Lion -- I put on a vid-flick, one of our music DVDs, then waited for Trish to come home.
She turned into Cranky Bear!
Into the nearest phone booth! I, too, became Cranky Bear! The awesome super-power to hurt people's feelings callously.
We had this big kind of pork sausage the Invisible Food Bank had given us Thursday; she insisted that I couldn't open the package, chased me out of the kitchen.
Then she started the whole "I see pink" routine. Whenever we're having meat, she has to chop it up in tiny pieces, looking for "pink"; the slightest bit of imagination that there might be some relegates the meat to the microwave for 3 minutes.
Of course, this wouldn't hurt if the meat was actually half raw. But her anxiety has her going in for overkill. Once we had some chicken -- & she scrapes off all the (yummy!) coating to "check" it -- that, though obviously singed, she wanted to stick in the microwave for 3 minutes, a figure I talked her down from -- it was still obviously unnecessary.
Then I watched the tube for a bit. Trish wanted to take a shower, whereas I'd expressed interest in a BJ. I wanted to watch one of our strippers porno-vids until ready for a Viagra; Trish threw a fit, so I wanted to play the keyboard instead.
Then she threw an even bigger fit.
Finally, I actually did watch the t&a-vid, Trish talked some K. Fantasy; it surprised me: I don't care if Trish wants to do the bi-femme thing, but if it resolves into jealousy & anger a few months down the line, I'll wish there'd been no integration of K. into our relationship, kissy face or otherwise.
I still love my Bumble Bee Girl. Perhaps it's just her personality disorder acting up again -- life at the border...
...there will always be Hope.
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