Ms. Smartarse > Recent Status Updates

Do I sleep? Does anyone sleep? There are moments when the numbness overwhelms me and clogs up my head so that I cannot see or think. Perhaps these fugues, these broken zombie moments, are sleep. Sleep for the new city. Perhaps that is all we can hope for any more.

The dancing mad god moved through the room with a savage alien step. It gathered us to it - we renegades, we criminals. We refugees. Constructs that tell tales; earthbound garuda; reporters who make news; criminal scientists and scientific criminals. The dancing mad god collected us all like errant worshippers, chiding us for going astray.

The winged thing let its tongue dangle as it slowly beat the air. It used it as a bloodhound would its nose. it passed over the undulation roofscape that seemed buckled by the Ribs. It licked its way along a faint trail.

'You're still not looking the right way. At all. It's a wonder you can create such art. You still see this - ,' he gesticulated vaguely at his own body with a monkey's paw ' - as pathology. You're still interested in what was and how it went wrong. This is not error or absence or mutancy: this is image and essence...'

I often spend half of Sunday morning on the phone with Ilse and Gertrud, and I’ve missed church a few times because we were planning our next grocery run. Honestly, the sales at LIDL matter more to me than the Lord’s commandments. At least LIDL offers some variety instead of the same thing for the last 2,000 years. Have you ever seen Italian Week at church?

"OK, Reg and me will help you up, come on -"
"Me? But I can't stand heights!"
"I thought you could turn into a bat?"
"Yeah, but a very nervous one!"

All the religions had very strong views on talking to the dead. And so did Mrs. Cake. They held that it was sinful. Mrs. Cake held that it was only common courtesy.

Miss Potter had marched up to me, and said in her accented Gallacian, "Until next time we meet, young sinner! If you die before me, we'll drink the country dry in your memory."
I bowed very deeply, wished her the best, then pulled Angus aside, and hissed, "You've got to get that phrase book away from her."
"I threw it out days ago," said Angus, sounding both proud and appalled. "She's got a terrifying memory."

I sometimes think the fundamental disconnect with civilians is that they think a war is an event, something neatly bounded on either end by dates. What anyone who's lived through one can tell you is that it's actually a place. You're there and then you leave, but places don't stop existing just because you aren't looking at them.

The silence of the woods was disquieting, but the silence of a horse that feels that he has been deprived of his due tribute is eloquent.

As I tap the WhatsApp icon, I see a blurry photo of a foot or an arm - hard to tell. My first thought: OMG, [the neighbour] is sending me body parts! I'm relieved it's just an arm and not... something else.
Then I realise it's actually from my parents, because underneath it says:
"We now sinned photos."
It worked. I (nearly) sinned.

The worst part is that when you don't [have children], you always feel the need to make up for it. Nobody replies to the inquiry with just "No". Instead a lot of people say stuff like "No, but I do have a puppy, or a kitten, or an evil mother in law". Oddly enough, no one feels the need to explain not having a car with "No, but I do have roller skates".

I actually like being reminded of Christmas, just in small doses and preferably in someone else's space.

Employment contracts be like:
"A man in my position has to be careful. I'm sure you can understand. If you take this commission I will make you rich, but I will also own a part of your mind. The part that pertains to me. That is mine. I do not give you permission to share it with any. If you do, you will suffer greatly before you die."

I wonder what it says about me that I don't (normally) notice the romance unless the UST hits me on the head with a 10 ft pole?

Re-reading for a book club: and I have to say the Romanian translation is very good. Don't think I've said this for quite a while...

Even so, I was hoping it would have some footnotes explaining the various fantasy creatures. Alas... I'll just have to provide a glossary.
Because I have plans, y'all!

"I believe you're afraid of elevators", Mathias said to me.
"Yes, that's right." I remembered now. I was supposed to be suffering of claustrophobia. "But we shouldn't let ourselves be ruled by our fears..." Especially not, when the room is on the damned fifth floor.

“Go on then, sue me, you grumpy old fussbucket,” I said, thinking about what other punchy things Sister Sabine always came out with, and whether I should throw in a forceful “Kiss my pocket” for good measure. After all, this was still my coma‑dream, and I could afford to misbehave a little.

Million to one chances crop up nine times out of ten.

Granny had nothing against fortune-telling provided it was done badly by people with no talent for it. It was a different matter if people who ought to know better did it, though. She considered that the future was a frail enough thing at best, and if people looked at it hard they changed it.

But now I know paradise isn't a place.

We're bound to wake up sometime.

You're sorry to be alive?
You're lonely?
What are you? A toddler?

'I really don't think that is necessary,' [Granny] said sternly. 'Not between us.'
'You do it, Granny', said Esk, 'in the village. I've seen you. And teacups. And cards.'
Granny shifted uneasily. 'Yes, well. It's all according. You just hold their hand and people do their own fortune-telling. But there's no need to go around believing everything.'