outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- scary stories to tell your friends Oh great question of the day: should I make a pumpkin soup? Yesterday was a banner day, for I created a fat free tuna salad that I can eat guilt-free, yet which does not taste like anus. Proud am I. For those to whom this does not bore: it is made of tuna, apples, fat free sour cream, and balsamic vinegar. It amuses me greatly that things such as food preparation and cartoons are to you what fashion, gaming, comic books and celebrities are to me. Ha ha! When I google for pumpkin soup, I am not looking for a collection of Smashing Pumpkins tablature. I've got to start reading again. I promise that when I get home today, I'm going to start Anna Karenina. It's now about three weeks overdue, along with my Vonnegut which I finished in about three days. (sigh) I don't want to read Anna Karenina, but I will not be able to cope with the idea of its being a wonderful book that I had in my home for over a month without reading it. So I'm going to read it. Of course the things I promised the diary I was going to do earlier in the week, failed to be done. I still haven't listened to my mp3s. It's ridiculous. If I have music on, I feel like I'm cheating on the tv. Or rather, I get jealous that the tv is going on without me. Poppycock. Teehee. Mental image. Ooh! I have something. A Ray Bradbury story, a *disturbing* Ray Bradbury story, online. The October Game. Pardon me for a bit while I read it. Ohhhh...kay... Not as disturbing as I suspected, but you read enough of these things, you get used to it. Still, it's no fairy tale. I'm all freaked out now. I've been reading this, a message board about books that upset or shocked you when you read them as a kid. Remind me to read some Arthur C. Clarke. And Canticle for Liebowitz, I should read that too. Why do I want to freak myself out? Books like these make me feel cold in my bones and crave sun. Ooh, here's another. Ambrose Pierce. One moment, please... That one pleased me more. The Painted Bird, I'll read that too. Sounds so innocent, n'est pas? Jacob Have I Loved, hm. I never read it, and I should. I always liked the title. And Go Ask Alice. I feel all creepy and not-really-here now, and I don't know what to do about it or if I want to do anything about it at all. I'm... All right, I'm going to go now. 9:53 a.m. - 2002-04-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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