March 8th, 2010

bloom, sfx

*Looks at watch* Time for some introspective boring navel-gazing!

I have a confession to make. You know how I've been online a lot more since this little iBook fell into my lap? Well, I've only ever been using it in bed, because the phone jack is next to it. Well, I realized that I could just take it up to the table and sit and use it like a normal person, which is what I'm doing now, but up until right now, I've been essentially been taking you all to bed. :3

Okay, that's silly, and not what I wanted to talk about, and neither is this: HAY ghostangel LOOK AT MY ICON! I did it! It's kind of disappointing, but it's what you requested. I think. If it isn't, let me know and I'll further tweak it. I promise I won't forget for like an entire season like I did until this afternoon. Eh heh heh. Nnnngh. ()¬¬ Yeaaah sorry.

I was doing more sorting and cleaning of The Chamber tonight, and I found a lot of old emotionally laden stuff. Little talismans of the past, covered with a thick layer of personal history. Photographs of people I hadn't thought about in a long time, little accessories I once wore, old books that I used to keep close. Some ancient little doodles that made me laugh, not because they're funny, but because of what was happening while I was doing them.

Then I found the collar.

Collapse )

Edit: Damn it, I keep trying to use my desktop mouse with the notebook on the table with it. (OOC-QOTN right here--) That does it, from now on I'm keeping the Internet in bed, where it's less confusing.


Hell is other IP lawyers.

I have an ur-example of one of the problems with copyright law as it stands.

You know the works of Sarte? Like, in particular, the culturally relevant plays, such as 'No Exit'? Well, guess what, it's still under copyright. It was written just after the Nazis left Paris, and it's covered by copyright law. Sarte is sipping coffee with Socrates (who isn't drinking anything, bad memories doncha know) right now, and somebody is collecting royalties on his works.


Damn you, Micky.