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verushka70Well, as they are wont to do, the characters have sort of gone off in a weird direction I wasn't expecting in my HCL/FTWHTWD Joe/Jerry story. I suppose it's not all that unexpected to others, given the stories I've written in the past.
I wasn't intending to go there. I really wasn't. And I'm not sure if it works or not. I guess I'll need a beta soon. Or at least a couple fresh pairs o' eyes to look at it as it is currently, and tell me if this latest infliction of pain on a self-destructive Joe Dick fits in with the rest of the story, doesn't fit in, or could fit in with the appropriate amount of work.
It think it fits with the Joe who just stood there smoking with his cap on backwards, watching Billy shake everyone's hands after he arrived for the Rock Against Guns HCL re-union gig, I think. But I'm not sure if it fits with the rest of what we see of Joe.
Except maybe it fits with the tired Joe silhouetted in the setting (or is it rising? I think it's rising) sun who "get[s] a few things in the open" at the side of the road -- the Joe who is the recipient of Billy's "You're a major fuck-up! You fucked up last night, got our money ripped off; you fucked up four years ago! You go out of your fucking way to fuck me!" rant.
I think the jury's out on whether it fits with Jerry. Jerry seems a very unknowable creature, to me. Hard to write. If I thought it was hard to write inner Joe/denial Joe (vs. Joe's outer, cultivated exterior), Jerry's that much harder.
Sigh. This is the nitty gritty, where when it gets too hard I want to bail. Booo. But I won't, I swear I won't. Because even though I have doubts about it, I am enjoying writing it. Well, enjoying is perhaps the wrong word. I'm absorbed in it, at this point. I think about it, wonder what will happen next, wonder what Joe & Jerry will do now, now that they've passed point A or point B or C or whatever... I think about it while I'm driving to the bank or walking to the all night convenience store. I think about it while lying in bed next to the bf. I especially think about it while lying in bed snuggling with my cats in my hovel of an apartment which I should remedy now that I'm no longer in school.
(Not for nothing have I been watching "How Clean Is Your House?" on BBC America the past three days. I'm trying to get my nerve and motivation up. Except it would sure be nice if I had an entire cleaning crew to help me like the embarrassed wretches on that show do. And I say that fully qualifying for embarrassed wretch status.)
Fortunately, I graduated, I went to commencement and the pinning ceremony last weekend, so I'm well on the way to being "a real nurse" -- just gotta pass the NCLEX-RN when I take it. Don't know when that will happen -- hope to get the ATT (Authorization To Test) in the next couple/few weeks, so I can register for it. Yikes! But since I got 1075 on the HESI, I think I'll be okay. (I have to brag about something... the rest of life, and being broke, and uncertainty of the future, is definitely not brag-worthy.) My bf being weird about the future (it's "when we get married," then "if we do it," then "when we get hitched" -- very erratic, making me want to strangle him, but at present I try to have no comment and no reaction because I figure it's the death throes of his single self, since I have been dreaming extensively about ex-boyfriends, some from 20 years ago... which I expect is the death throes of my single self. Fuck, I hate big life changes.)
So I got drunk at the small party at a Greek restaurant in Greektown that my family had for me. We used to always go to this particular restaurant with my dad, so it seemed appropriate to have it there even though he's dead. I hope his ghost hovered above the skordalia and realized how grateful I am to have received enough of an inheritance that I could live off it for two years in nursing school and not having to work at all, so I could do well in school.
So I got really quite drunk on retsina (people kept filling my glass; it must have been nearly a bottle 'til I realized that in order to get people to stop filling it behind my back, I should simply stop drinking it. Duh. Hello!)
I was going to go to like three different graduation parties that night (last Saturday). Instead, I took a nap, got a wonderful full body massage with relaxing lavendar scented oil from my bf, watched Volver in bed w/him, and then had raucous sex with him. It's all been a bit of an . . anti-climax, I guess because I feel it's not over until it's OVER (when I pass the NCLEX licensing exam). But at least the dosing down on Cymbalta has resulted in the return of orgasmia. Because that anorgasmia (not to mention the 6-feet-under libido of the past winter) was awful. I know my bf wasn't happy about it, but really, he has no idea -- you know it's bad when you can't even do yourself properly! or you lose interest before you're done! Christ, that was awful! And it went on for months and months -- or so it seemed to me (and probably to my bf, too!). But, like, yay to the addition of Buspar and the slow elimination of Cymbalta. In another month or so I should be completely off it. Yay.
ETA: I really, really, really never thought I'd like Hugh Dillon with his head entirely shaved. But now that I've started watching the Hugh interview on The Hour posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hughdillon by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eisakay, I may have to rethink that! Because, like, his face is so expressive -- and that smile is like a million bucks. And dammit, he's still cute. And trim! Wtf, did the man slim down or what? I kinda like his chubbier self. But, whatever, the lean, mean, bald Hugh is definitely not bad, either. Not at all. And it seems along the way some time he had his teeth bleached or something. Not that that's bad (I've done it; smoking and coffee take a serious yellowing toll on the teeth). Just... different from Hugh before. Well, anyway. Bald, he's still a hottie. And I have shocked myself for thinking so!
I wasn't intending to go there. I really wasn't. And I'm not sure if it works or not. I guess I'll need a beta soon. Or at least a couple fresh pairs o' eyes to look at it as it is currently, and tell me if this latest infliction of pain on a self-destructive Joe Dick fits in with the rest of the story, doesn't fit in, or could fit in with the appropriate amount of work.
It think it fits with the Joe who just stood there smoking with his cap on backwards, watching Billy shake everyone's hands after he arrived for the Rock Against Guns HCL re-union gig, I think. But I'm not sure if it fits with the rest of what we see of Joe.
Except maybe it fits with the tired Joe silhouetted in the setting (or is it rising? I think it's rising) sun who "get[s] a few things in the open" at the side of the road -- the Joe who is the recipient of Billy's "You're a major fuck-up! You fucked up last night, got our money ripped off; you fucked up four years ago! You go out of your fucking way to fuck me!" rant.
I think the jury's out on whether it fits with Jerry. Jerry seems a very unknowable creature, to me. Hard to write. If I thought it was hard to write inner Joe/denial Joe (vs. Joe's outer, cultivated exterior), Jerry's that much harder.
Sigh. This is the nitty gritty, where when it gets too hard I want to bail. Booo. But I won't, I swear I won't. Because even though I have doubts about it, I am enjoying writing it. Well, enjoying is perhaps the wrong word. I'm absorbed in it, at this point. I think about it, wonder what will happen next, wonder what Joe & Jerry will do now, now that they've passed point A or point B or C or whatever... I think about it while I'm driving to the bank or walking to the all night convenience store. I think about it while lying in bed next to the bf. I especially think about it while lying in bed snuggling with my cats in my hovel of an apartment which I should remedy now that I'm no longer in school.
(Not for nothing have I been watching "How Clean Is Your House?" on BBC America the past three days. I'm trying to get my nerve and motivation up. Except it would sure be nice if I had an entire cleaning crew to help me like the embarrassed wretches on that show do. And I say that fully qualifying for embarrassed wretch status.)
Fortunately, I graduated, I went to commencement and the pinning ceremony last weekend, so I'm well on the way to being "a real nurse" -- just gotta pass the NCLEX-RN when I take it. Don't know when that will happen -- hope to get the ATT (Authorization To Test) in the next couple/few weeks, so I can register for it. Yikes! But since I got 1075 on the HESI, I think I'll be okay. (I have to brag about something... the rest of life, and being broke, and uncertainty of the future, is definitely not brag-worthy.) My bf being weird about the future (it's "when we get married," then "if we do it," then "when we get hitched" -- very erratic, making me want to strangle him, but at present I try to have no comment and no reaction because I figure it's the death throes of his single self, since I have been dreaming extensively about ex-boyfriends, some from 20 years ago... which I expect is the death throes of my single self. Fuck, I hate big life changes.)
So I got drunk at the small party at a Greek restaurant in Greektown that my family had for me. We used to always go to this particular restaurant with my dad, so it seemed appropriate to have it there even though he's dead. I hope his ghost hovered above the skordalia and realized how grateful I am to have received enough of an inheritance that I could live off it for two years in nursing school and not having to work at all, so I could do well in school.
So I got really quite drunk on retsina (people kept filling my glass; it must have been nearly a bottle 'til I realized that in order to get people to stop filling it behind my back, I should simply stop drinking it. Duh. Hello!)
I was going to go to like three different graduation parties that night (last Saturday). Instead, I took a nap, got a wonderful full body massage with relaxing lavendar scented oil from my bf, watched Volver in bed w/him, and then had raucous sex with him. It's all been a bit of an . . anti-climax, I guess because I feel it's not over until it's OVER (when I pass the NCLEX licensing exam). But at least the dosing down on Cymbalta has resulted in the return of orgasmia. Because that anorgasmia (not to mention the 6-feet-under libido of the past winter) was awful. I know my bf wasn't happy about it, but really, he has no idea -- you know it's bad when you can't even do yourself properly! or you lose interest before you're done! Christ, that was awful! And it went on for months and months -- or so it seemed to me (and probably to my bf, too!). But, like, yay to the addition of Buspar and the slow elimination of Cymbalta. In another month or so I should be completely off it. Yay.
ETA: I really, really, really never thought I'd like Hugh Dillon with his head entirely shaved. But now that I've started watching the Hugh interview on The Hour posted to
hughdillon by eisakay, I may have to rethink that! Because, like, his face is so expressive -- and that smile is like a million bucks. And dammit, he's still cute. And trim! Wtf, did the man slim down or what? I kinda like his chubbier self. But, whatever, the lean, mean, bald Hugh is definitely not bad, either. Not at all. And it seems along the way some time he had his teeth bleached or something. Not that that's bad (I've done it; smoking and coffee take a serious yellowing toll on the teeth). Just... different from Hugh before. Well, anyway. Bald, he's still a hottie. And I have shocked myself for thinking so!![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-05-27 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-28 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-29 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-29 05:39 pm (UTC)whups...
Date: 2007-06-02 08:37 pm (UTC)