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Sep. 4th, 2012

omg, wtf

In which I awkwardly shuffle back in, awkwardly.

Yeah, uh, hi. Oh, god.

My last entry was written a little over ONE. YEAR. AGO. WHAT HAPPENED?

Damfino. I'm someone else now. Fandom-wise, I still love most of the things I love before, and now I'm also nutty over Brideshead Revisited and the Raffles series. Oh, and Buster Keaton.

Seriously, not that much has changed though. I do not know if I'll post here very often in the future, but I came back to be involved in Raffles discussion and fanfiction. If you want to see me blog about me or whatever, go to MY TUMBLR. It's really worth it, folks. I blog like a chld dizzy on lemonade over there.

I can't decide if it's worth it to delete old entries or leave them to moulder. If, as I hope I will, start being more active in the Raffles fandom, perhaps even writing some fanfic (which I last did in 2008, for crap's sake), perhaps I should just open a new journal specifically for that. Maybe I'll throw up my hands and delete this journal. We'll see. But I like you guys. I miss you. You were a big part of my life for quite a period. I just don't have time to blog big-time here anymore, as you can probably tell.

Contra mundum.

Jun. 24th, 2011

dork, idk

What the what the?

How did I abandon you for so long, sweet LJ? *strokes it*

Real entry tomorrow hopefully.

God I hope I can buy Lupercalia on U.S. iTunes soon. FUUUUUUUUUCK.

~TDEO ^o^

Apr. 19th, 2011

jazz, hedwig


Oh, Sarah Jane. Why, you guys. WHY.

~TDEO ^o^

Apr. 18th, 2011



Well! I don't know why I didn't update you the moment the thesis got turned in almost a month ago. Guess I was too mentally exhausted.

Things are going just fine right now. I have a touch of the flu right now, but it's moved on to the dry cough stage within the span of only three days, thank crap. The poems only get better and stranger. I wrote three on Sunday, and I'm slightly blown away by what fell out. Jason and I are in a good place right now. I think we were both out of sorts for awhile, I think, but yesterday we started really talking again, and that makes me so, so very warm and fuzzy inside. BUT THAT BITCH STILL HAS MY BOOSH DVDS, WTF HOR.

Bit obsessed with Hanif Kureishi at the moment, and rekindling my love of Lovecraft and Leiber, and of craft. Gaimaning my brains out. Expanding my musical horizons.


More later.

~TDEO ^o^

Mar. 22nd, 2011



THE THESIS IS ALMOST DONE OMFG I LOVE MYSELF. It should be completely finished no later than tomorrow morning, so long as some calamity does not befall me before then.

Made two slightly killer mixes inspired by the Boosh but more specifically by the Future Sailors live show: "Songs for Batty Creases" and "I Fuck Really Old Corn on the Cob." SMUG AS HELL.

Uhhhhhhh...shit, thesis has made me lose a lot of weight, I think I might be close to 100. Yikes! Not worried just yet, though. The only real annoyance is the pants issue. Skin-tight ones fit like a dream, but ones that usually fit comfortably are falling off me. :\

This is a stupid entry, why am I writing it? I've nothing interesting to impart. Here, art geek out a bit with me. I can't believe I found this again after all this time:

EDIT: Looking at Thesis Office's website to double-check formatting rules and shit and OH. FUCK. I am soooooo confused.

EDIT EDIT: FUCK. How am I going to get all these signatures in time before Friday at 5? I was so excited about this, and now I'm in HELL. All my self-confidence has drained away. This is the worst nightmare I could have imagined.

~TDEO ^o^

Mar. 20th, 2011

dork, idk


I know it's supposed to eventually come out in US DVD, but why are there no downloads of Journey of the Childmen anywhere? I hate watching it on YouTube, ick. And maybe I should finally get to watching that copy of Future Sailors I downloaded ages ago, huh...

So the thesis deadline is on Friday. :| I'm not panicking. It's going well, but I really am working right down to the wire. My committee will see exactly one draft, I think. But it should be good. It should be great, in fact. I just need to KEEP CALM AND ROCK THE FUCK ON.

Surfing for neat patches on eBay. As soon as this fucker's done, I'm getting back into making shit, especially as my image/aesthetic gradually changes to adapt to my fucked-up gender identity. And other shit, too. I gotta hit Westminster Art Supply and H&M. I need to buy some comp books and legal pads and writerly shit. I discovered the glories of Stash Chocolate Mint and Bigelow Vanilla Caramel teas. Next on the tea list is Bigelow Green Tea with Blueberry and Stash Licorice Spice. I can't remember what else I wanted to do, really. Maybe I should try to get through brilliant The Once and Future King finally. I also need to buy a copy of A Single Man and the Howl DVD already.

LINK+ing some new awesomeness, Patti Smith's poetry and stuff about Neil Gaiman, not just by him. OMFG so cool, so cool.

I don't fucking know. I'm not exactly lucid anymore. April can't happen soon enough.

A Parable by Dr. Doyle That One Dude for your nerdy enjoyments. OH SHIT SON:

The cheese-mites asked how the cheese got there,
And warmly debated the matter;
The Orthodox said that it came from the air,
And the Heretics said from the platter.
They argued it long and they argued it strong,
And I hear they are arguing now;
But of all the choice spirits who lived in the cheese,
Not one of them thought of a cow.

I'm totally the kind of geek who would go ask a poet for help at his or her grave. How gay of me.

~TDEO ^o^

Mar. 4th, 2011


When In Doubt, Listen to Stephen and Amanda

Things may be looking up. Sent Jason's package off this morning. Finally heard from the blighter, and aside from no use of his car and a shitty job, he could be doing worse. I'm doing more thesis work today, and revising the biology lab poem. Maybe I'll squeeze in something fun, too. MST3K: Red Zone Cuba tonight.

That's about all I've got just now, so here, my dears...the first part of the episode-long conversation that His Fryness had with Craig Ferguson last February. Exceptionally enjoyable:

The first part of Stephen Fry on Everything, which I'd also somehow not seen before:

AFP uploaded this yesterday, you may or may not have seen it yet. It sort of knocked the twelve bells out of my soul:

Right, I'm off to do the ironing and then research chocolate tea.

~TDEO ^o^

Mar. 3rd, 2011



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This thing is goddamn AMAZING. I expected an episode guide, behind-the-scenes photos, and maybe some words from the actors themselves. What I got was all that, plus a history of Holmes in film and television and the entire Baker Street File reprinted - i.e., the guide that the show creators made for Jeremy Brett to refer to when he took on the role.

And oh WOW, ziggythewalrus. She's put up clips of Craig Ferguson on her journal and...I think my gay heart's aflame. I might cry.

Giving printing those fucking chapbooks one last go this afternoon. Wish me luck. *shakes fist*

~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 28th, 2011

writing, domestic


Okay, lemme say something. I want to share a pair of poems on here; they are, respectively, the opener and closer of my thesis portfolio, and also the chapbook that I'm preparing. Whenever I do post poetry here, it gets ignored. I know all you nice people have lives and can't be buggered to comment on every single entry of every single blogger on your friends lists. I know I'm not exactly a serial commenter. But unlike a lot of the other things that I post about, my poetry is attached to me by blood-filled veins and nerve bundles, and when it looks like no one is reading it, it hurts. I truly can't help that. I wonder why I bother to share it at all. I am not trying to guilt anyone into commenting on this entry or fishing for praise, I just feel that it's important to express my honest feelings. This is not a poetry blog, most of you are not semi-professional poets like me, and I don't expect the whole Internet to erupt in a frenzy every time I add my words to it. So, I think what I'm trying to say is...if you want to comment, please do so. I would love the crap out of you. And if you don't, I'll love the crap out of you anyway. Both of these pieces - PARTICULARLY the second one - took a lot of emotional energy to write and have been crafted with extreme care. I can only hope that you enjoy them.

* * *

I Love You, Truman Capote

Dead men drain me. Tweedy, Marmite-flavoured vampirism, but horripilating and essence-draining nonetheless. When one kneels before another and tells them in at least 65 different voices what they mean to one, and, after a fashion, the object of desire smirks peacock disdain, inclines chin, adjusts ascot, and withdraws into Interview.

Oh, that Spanish vesication of the heart—blisters like sequins, Kansas mailbox a turgid bladder of flame. I bat intellectual eyelashes at Conan Doyle and Wodehouse till I puke—in mutuality, they always disappoint. Not unlike a cake that doesn’t taste as lovely as it looks. If forging a “real life” human connection is really that fucking important, well—we’d do better to leap from the top of mourning and go foxtrotting down Not Bloody Likely Street.

All else having failed, we embrace things. Pop songs about looking up at the stars so the tears can’t fall out of our eyes. Gay bildungsromane and tales of youthful doom and let’s go for a jaunt to Metebellus Four in the TARDIS. Manic artistes and swish celebrities, who don’t know we exist, never will.

I love you, Truman Capote, I might say. When I read Other Voices, Other Rooms, I gargle poignancy. Breakfast at Tiffany’s—tears ooze like candle wax. The impregnable silence in the room after I read In Cold Blood—oh, and, by the way, fuck that Philip Seymour Hoffman film. I mean, if I’d seen a clip and didn’t already know that he was playing you, I might have eventually figured it out, but seriously. Capote is a thick, woolen dressing gown. X-ray shield leaden, Catholic funeral awkward, bubonic plague serious. Infamous, on the other hand, starring Toby Jones and Daniel Craig being very fucking legit indeed, was a Technicolor silk kimono. Flimsy, perhaps, a bit meretricious, but fierce as all hell. That film broke me in two—I am currently lying with my left half in the upstairs toilet and my right somewhere near the kitchen.

I am ululating my ass off at a man who's been gone for 27 years. Yet by him, my nucleus has been chloroformed and pinioned beneath a pendular blade. Dropped like a typewriter out of a hot air balloon. Kneaded into the shape of the end by a leather glove. Locked inside a violin case that throbs euphonic like a room of blood.

Why am I still here—feet planted at the bottom of the garden, hands perched atop the gatepost of cold unknown and vision?

* * *

And Another Thing, Truman Capote

I am with you in Manhattan, where dragonflies swill Veuve Clicquot,
flit pitiful, slick lips, rip profiteroles from skulls’ mouths.
Spiders toeing wine drips like buffalo chips over tablecloths,
ochreous lilies fulminating from vases like bullet holes—
El Morocco sepulchre where gowns of liquid putrefaction
crescendo as you compose your chameleon music aforethought.

Message from Hinterlandia: you and I won’t be victims
of unintelligent design as buttonholes, homunculi,
bluebottles in glass jars. Susurrating in hateful Esperanto
at facsimiles of guttersnipes stripped to bones,
willing us to slow down, lower fists, tuck chins, give in.
The house whose rafters weep blood, tailor costumes
for would-be boys neglected in allergenic mental closets,
croaking to be known. Yesterday poems recycled as nests
for unreliabilities. Lights with no reason to be live.
Vultures throbbing with sleep. Telephonic prevarication.

I am with you in Kansas, where Perry Smith was finally hanged—
at your elbow, ultimate second, tearing out into rain.
Knowing someone—once dead—believe me,
my muse will wrap duct tape over her mouth.

(c) Lauren Herrera, 2011

* * *

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*makes pitiful attempt at maintaining dignity*

I'm gonna go snort some angst now.

~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 24th, 2011




~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 23rd, 2011

gheyists, tiemcock, homosexyness, love, hugtiem


~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 17th, 2011

gheyists, tiemcock, homosexyness, love, hugtiem



LOL. I watched Howl three times in a row yesterday and carried around the book in my pocket and felt smug. Meanwhile, my poetry has gone insane with ridiculousness. *mine is an evil laugh*

Putting together a care package of sorts for Jason in his faraway land of LA, as he is depressed and wants to be left alone and doesn't have the whatever to reply to texts, but appreciates my concern and love and everything, so yeah. I'm putting in: a copy of Howl and Other Poems, mango Alice in Wonderland tea, a Walker's biscuit packet, a Young Americans Bowie badge, Holmes/Watson badge, a Harry Potter bookmark, orange shoelaces, pocket abridged Alice's Adventures, handmade felt "J" patch, a CD of 20 of my poems that I have recorded (and a reading of "Howl" + footnote) and a companion of 20 songs, and moustache plasters (because he is my Watson). There, there, Jason. Your "little lesbo Sherlock" (his words, lol) is here for you.


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~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 14th, 2011

gheyists, tiemcock, homosexyness, love, hugtiem

Can’t Read My, Can’t Read My

Happy Hugtiem Day. Once more soundly ignored aside from the creation and consumption of red velvet cupcakes.

Saturday night was poker night with Jason and a buttload of his friends (only one of whom I’d met before) at a girl’s house. Cool people. I played a few hands of Texas, won a couple times, then got bored with it and drank my G&T and chatted. Also had a great deal of vodka and peach schnapps, and some Corona. And part of a stale Lean Pocket. There was an enormous amount of dancing to Internet radio and songs on YouTube. Girls crying in the corner about their insecurities. I gave Jason several shoulder massages, and we admitted to the room at large that if I were straight, he and I would probably be fucking by now. LOL WOW THE TRUTH COMES OUT. XD Then of course there was an incident in the bathroom with five girls putting lipstick on him and then him kissing me full on the mouth (by mistake, I’m sure, he was pretty gone; I can’t help but wonder if he remembers). I also took a drag on a cigarette for the first time ever. OH AND LIKE SO MUCH CUDDLING N HAND-HOLDING N I LOVE YOUS N SHIT. Classic, classic times.

Hmm. Sunday and today were...interesting. Very much the tortured artist, feeling the unrelenting weight of her craft on her shoulders. Spent a lot of time not showering and eating but instead writing a very emotional and soul-draining poem, reading Truman Capote, crying, watching films. I watched both Capote and Infamous (released a year apart and both about the writing of Capote’s true crime novel In Cold Blood and his relationship with one of the murderers, Perry Smith), and the latter is sooooooo much better. (I watched it twice, in fact.) Toby Jones is a far better and more convincing Capote, and Daniel Craig (he can sing!!!) is just fucking incredible holy shit. The lighter tone was more successful, too. I like me some dark, serious films, but Capote felt like a lead weight or one of those X-ray shields they put on you at the dentist. Infamous is not a flawless film, but it has very swiftly become one of my favorites. I am ordering the DVD and soundtrack tonight. And finally, I think it says something that while gloomy-doomy Capote left me bummed and unmoved when the credits rolled, I sobbed my way through the last fifteen minutes of Infamous. I don’t do that often. Also watched In Bruges, and I have but one thing to say: Martin McDonagh needs to stop hogging all the awesome.

I have my work cut out for me; still need to write some terza rima for Wednesday and a five-page paper for Thursday on Whitney from The Real L Word. On the non-academic front, I’m in the planning stages for a show about two female detectives, and two films: a Vincent Price biopic and a brand-fucking-new adaptation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s that might actually have made Capote proud (he didn’t approve of most of Blake Edwards’ changes). And that’s a fact.

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Yay for loving each other. Sayonara.

~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 8th, 2011

gheyists, tiemcock, homosexyness, love, hugtiem

Oh my god, they have sparkly sparklies.

Said in monotone SoCal ennui voice by the girl in the PC cubicle across from me.

Chocolate cake. That's totally the solution to my shoot-the-wall boredom right now. *slaps own hand*

So it's 5:30, and I'm in the library. I've been here since 3:15. I'm going to continue being here until probably 7. At 7:30, Robert Pinsky is reading at the Beach Auditorium, and hopefully I'll get home at a reasonable hour. I stayed up fairly late, woke up a 5, and didn't wake up again until 10. Oops. Not a good start to the day. I'm probably frightening people with my eye makeup (well, apparently I'm kinda scary regardless, but anyhow) - I'm trying to grow my eyebrows into a more natural shape and filling them in pretty heavily as a result, and the eyeliner is fat black with big wings at the top and thick red lipliner at the bottom for that "I've been crying tears of blood" look. LOL. Must've been in a dark place this morning - and I don't mean the fact that I rarely turn on the lights or open the curtains in my room during the day cause sunlight can go fuck itself. *secret vampire*

So apparently Jason gave me his work ZIP code (90026) instead of his apartment ZIP code (90046), and that would appear to be why the package of CDs and 'Keep Calm and Carry On' plasters that I sent last Monday or Tuesday never arrived. *facepalm* Why didn't the post office just send it back to me? We may never know. He's emailing the post office or whatever, so hopefully my box will find its way into the right hands soon. I worked hard on that shit. *fingers crossed*

The Jane Austen Argument are pretty fucking BOSS - listening to their EP and hugging myself over my sarnie right now. And I really, truly hate myself for stopping my White Stripes listening after Elephant. I reunited with them less than a week before their breakup was announced, I kid you not. GOD. *this is why we can't have nice things*

Okay. Time to go listen to some poemings.

~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 7th, 2011

dork, idk

Is it so wrong for a woman to love a ukulele?

Still practicing - still crap. Luckily, I'm quick with figuring songs out because I already know all the notes from playing other instruments in the past, but my strumming technique is still pretty weak. I recorded myself playing and singing Katy Perry, and...wow. I've got a loooooong way to go.

Alice, yesterday morning, reading Simon Pegg's Nerd Do Well. Like her literary namesake, she likes the bits with pictures best.
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Tina's birthday thing was fun, even though Jason couldn't go. We went to a trendy bar and stood around drinking and avoiding broken glass for awhile, then danced a bit. Some guy - I think he might have been from South America, judging by the accent and indeterminate Latin features - wanted to dance with me, and when I said no, he took that to mean that what he should do next was buy me a drink. Huh???? What kind of idiot did he think I was? Needless to say, I stashed it behind a big black box thingy in the corner and tried to avoid him, although he kept hovering. *shudder* This is why I like going to bars with Jason - even though people think we're dating, I appreciate the fact that guys tend to leave me alone, or at least not hit on me. *sigh*

Setting Wednesday aside for methodology work, this afternoon for work on my three poems of the week: a Holmes & Watson piece from the POV of the Persian slipper, Sylvia Plath as a mutant woman-bee from a cult horror film, and a snarky meditation on vinyl LPs as well as what was actually going on with Marc Bolan's brain when he titled a T. Rex album Zinc Alloy and the Hidden Riders of Tomorrow - A Creamed Cage in August. Also loading some Radiohead onto the iPod, and burning mixes #28-31 to disc.

In other news, I want a tattoo of this, signature included:
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~TDEO ^o^

Feb. 2nd, 2011


She's Telling Me She's Dead Against It

Things are going rather well. Lots of mixes, LOTS. I'm working on #28, if you can believe it (I can't). I've also written six poems in two weeks, five of which are quality shit, and three of which are fucking amazing. Currently burning discs and buying a couple Scott Pilgrim badges on eBay.

Speaking of money. This July, French friend Alexandre (who's bartending and kickin' it in London these days) is hosting another Artist's Retreat at his cottage in Brittany. Jason and I are intent on going. But Lauren! You barely have any money to your name, how the freakin' feck can you afford a month abroad? Well. I'm just going to have to save and maybe get a bit of a job. If I can make this happen, omggggggg. I MUST GO. With my uke, writing materials, music, and some books in tow, of course. Blimey. *SQUEE* Here's hoping.

This Friday is Tina's dancey downtown birthday thingy, and Jason's trying to decide whether to go visit his parents in San Diego or to come along and be my wingman. I might not go if he doesn't because I'm sure Tina's going to be quite busy and I don't know how many people I actually know will be going. So please, Jason, pleeeeeeeease!!! Crap knows I'll need him.

~TDEO ^o^

Jan. 31st, 2011


Just Blew in from the International City

Library dump! I've started listening to The Horrors, Peaches, and Plumtree.

Feminism and Pop Culture
He's a Stud, She's a Slut and 49 Other Double Standards Every Woman Should Know
Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture
The Dread of Difference: Gender and the Horror Film
How Sassy Changed My Life: A Love Letter to the Greatest Teen Magazine of All Time
Dear John, I Love Jane: Women Write About Leaving Men for Women
Hellions: Pop Culture's Women Rebels
She's Such a Geek!: Women Write About Science, Technology & Other Nerdy Stuff
Full Frontal Feminism: A Young Woman's Guide to Why Feminism Matters
Body Outlaws: Rewriting the Rules of Beauty and Body Image
Fabulous!: A Loving, Luscious and Lighthearted Look at Film from the Gay Perspective
Cult Horror Films: From Attack of the 50 Foot Woman to Zombies of Mora Tau
Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film
The Pyrotechnic Insanitarium: American Culture on the Brink

Have you been watching Portlandia? If not, get the fuck on it.

~TDEO ^o^

Jan. 26th, 2011

coffee, stress


Couldn't sleep last night, so watch Rob Brydon's live show. Overslept and was late for my dental appointment. Didn't feel very well. Had a shit time with the two poems I had to write. Was a half hour late to class. I think that all of this justifies the Western Bacon Cheeseburger combo I bought at Carls Jr. Bad, bad, bad. Ate the fries, ditched the Coke Zero, saving burger for later. Currently commiserating with Jason about it via text.

Before I can watch Being Human 3.1, I apparently need to see 2.5 & 2.6. Not sure how I managed to miss those.


~TDEO ^o^

Jan. 25th, 2011


School Daze

Looks like school's going to be pretty all right this term. Three classes, all seem to be leaning towards awesomeness ahead. Perfect.

Started reading Scott Pilgrim finally. Many, many white chocolate covered thumbs up. (Eating a Milkybar.)

I got said confection at the British shop in Santa Barbara, along with some Polo mints, 'Keep Calm and Carry On' plasters and Book Lovers' London. ALMOST bought a jar of Marmite as well, but if I'm not going to eat, why waste the money on just having it for a laugh? Found a '74 edition of Howl and Other Poems at a used bookshop. Rather miraculously found some herringbone tweed trousers and canvas wingtips at Forever 21. (Blargh, I hate you and what you stand for, but every now and then, you throw something awesome at me, so I snatch it up, throw money at you, and run away before anyone sees me.) Overall, it was a nice little two-day jaunt.

This week in music and TV, AFP's Aussie album is sheer loveliness. And Russian Holmes is the shit.
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Aaaand...I'm drawing a blank for anything else I wanted to say. Meh.

~TDEO ^o^

Jan. 13th, 2011

torchwood, approved



~TDEO ^o^

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