hold your tongue, you wicked cricket

Because it's just hockey-related pornography. Warning, there's a lot of blockquoting under the cut!

( Tumblr sucks for commentfic. )

(NB: Warning for some character assassination of the Bruins, which I hope to rectify if I ever edit this. I had a flashback to my Bert-McCracken-related rage when I reread it.)

Crossposted to LJ.

People Against Us
Hockey RPF, Sidney Crosby/Jack Johnson
Mature rating, warning for underage.

"It made it fun to to know there were 20,000 people against us." - Jack Johnson.

There's Sid, there's Jack, and there's the rest of the world.

Notes: Written for the Stickhandling zine project. This project produced a bunch of excellent fic, which you can read or find links for on svmadelyn's website.

Thanks to wearemany, who actually got me to write in this fandom, and to algernon_mouse, who gave the story an amazing, swift post-posting beta.

The underage tag is for sex between a 17 year old and an 18 year old. Message me or comment if you'd like any additional information before reading. Criticism welcome.

Does anyone know the 80s TV show The Young Ones, and would be willing to read through a story? I have a friend who's writing a story for that fandom for Yuletide, and she'd like someone to do a quick read who is familiar with the canon. Comments are screened so you can leave your email.

Today, while at work, I planned my trip to Washington D.C. I also researched jello wrestling opportunities. There's lesbian jello wrestling in D.C., but it's not while I'm there -- I may have to make a second trip.

I really should start a jello wrestling tournament, that's what I'm thinking. It'd be like a poetry reading series, but with bikinis and jello. I almost said, "and no poetry," but two people grappling in gelatin is pure poetry, please don't front like it isn't.

(Oh man, wait, no, I'm going to have a really stoned guy stand ringside and read Wallace Stevens over a megaphone. Now that is pure poetry.)

Speaking of pure poetry, I'm beginning to be fully and completely irritated by the lack of bedazzled light-up Converse shoes for adults. Today I started mocking up plans for making my own. I will also be making lace-on wings for said shoes, if it comes to that. Like this, but for an adult-sized pair of shoes. (Also I would make them in orange.)

Which is to say, any help to be offered on how to make light-up shoes and/or lace-on wings will be gladly accepted. I already know how to wield a bedazzler, so no help needed there. I was in NSync fandom, son.

Today I have also read all about the Oilers draft situation, because it brings untold hilarity. I'm kind of hoping they take Yakupov, mostly because I think he would fit in on the failboat. The other prospects don't horrify me, though. Of course, it's entirely possible that they're going to pick a violently drunk guy in a chicken suit, though, because Oilers management is the weirdest bucket of doofuses you'll ever meet.

The Edmonton Journal has a nice rundown of the Murray vs. Yakupov draft debate here, if you're interested, which you're not. (It's either Ryan Murray or Nail Yakupov, it seems. Yakupov gives the fewest fucks of anyone ever, though, which is why I like him best.)

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I also typed up the following! It is (quasi) serious, but brief. Mostly I am getting this out of my system, because yesterday I found myself ranting about it while cutting up vegetables, and my veggies don't need to hear that. ( About fanfiction, and warnings. )

Things that I have not yet done at work: any work. Whoops! I should go attempt that, maybe. Or should I buy a bowtie? DECISIONS.

I've been thinking about a dream I had a few days ago. Here is what the text below the cut contains: references to pornography, relatively-bloodless but still-disturbing mutilation of a corpse, grossness.

( Bonus scenes from the DVD. )

To reassure you:
Last night I dreamed about Care Bears that were punching things and then the things turned purple and then I had a raygun and then I made out with someone who looked weirdly like Lady Gaga but was not.

Unrelated hockey fandom stuff:
spinfrog has been posting links to hockey videos and stuff lately, which makes me wriggle with joy. Here is a video where Kaner scores a goal and then jumps into Duncan Keith's Patrick Sharp's arms. [Edit: Also you have probably seen this already, but Patrick Burke and some other hockey dudes are not down with homophobia and it's adorable.]

I'm at a writing retreat for my dissertation this week. I have been pretty good thus far, but later I am probably going to keep working on Sid/Geno bruiseplay fic like a creeper. It's supposed to be commentfic, but it's already a thousand words and it's mostly just Sidney being asexual and then having issues. I don't know why I'm telling you this, I just really like thinking about Sidney Crosby being all conflicted about his not-quite-asexuality.

Also seriously someone write me a long story about Hall and Eberle and RNH playing gay chicken until it's just a sexpile. Or I'll cry. Thank you. [Edit: I keep seeing this when I read my friendslist -- because none of you are posting because you hate me -- and each time I think "NO SERIOUSLY SOMEONE OUGHTA WRITE THAT." God, it would be amazing. Just the thought of the awkwardness makes me laugh like a drain.]

Recommended:
pearl_o linked to this amazing X-Men: First Class kink prompt fill, where Charles and Erik jerk off next to each other and then have feelings and also underage (age sixteen) sex. Highly recommended, if you're into that sort of thing.

Can we talk about cat penises? Of course we can. Rather, I certainly can -- I already am -- but you should not feel obligated to read. Let me suit html to words and put a little LJ cut right here, so that those of you averse to zoophallic discussions can scroll right on by.

( Textual renderings of cat penis, no pictures you sick bastard. )

I saw an advertisement a day or so ago, on the side of a city bus. It really stuck with me. I haven't been able to find an image of it online, and I wasn't able to photograph it when I saw it, but my recollection of it has been clarified by well-seasoned, well-aged irritation.

The following description is what I remember from a quick glance, and may contain minor errors: In the center of the ad, which appeared on the side of a bus, there is an Asian American doctor, who appears male, and who is wearing a white labcoat. He is photographed from the waist up. He stands with his arms folded, staring directly ahead. He is at the center of the advertisement. The majority of the advertisement is deep blue. Around him, in white letters, it reads, "Practicing 21st century medicine since 1751." The advertisement is for the Penn Hospital, which is associated with the University of Pennsylvania.

Of course you know what's coming. "What's this humorless pantywaist up in arms about now?" you say, and, "Screw this, I'm getting an Oreo and watching reruns of ANTM."¹ Well, go on! I'll just stay right here and burble angrily to myself.

( Under a cut, no less! )

I'm going to see the Used tonight, for the first time. why_me_why_not PMed me at just the right time (I already had my credit card out for some other reason, now I can't remember, probably bills) and was like "Hey, Atlantic City, Bert, people from the internet, whaddya say." And I was like "I feel like paying Ticketmaster some charges and taking a bus to the ass end of the shore right now. Let's do this." In the interim, I have gotten wretched sick, sort-of recovered, and been snowed in for two days, but I think it's still going to happen. I don't pay Ticketmaster charges for nothing, bitches! So barring some unfortunate incident, I am going to go stand in a mass of people and ogle Bert McCracken's sweaty pot-belly.*

Weird.

I'm probably going in my school clothes, which consist of: too-big black-and-grey argyle sweater, white button-down, black Magnolia Electric Co. t-shirt, black hat, and jeans. If you're going to be in AC tonight, and you see some ladygirl with long blonde hair wearing said clothes, it might be me. Scream "I LOVED YOU IN YOUR INTERNET PORN!" and see if the ladygirl reacts. Hope you don't get arrested!

Speaking of internet porn, the department secretary moved my office assignment to the English department's main floor, and it was the worst decision ever. I don't notice how bad my language and attitude are until people give me that Cat Making Doots face, and then it's too late. Today I was like, "Wow, this printer doesn't work. GAYWADS." in the Undergraduate Office, and I didn't even realize I had said "GAYWADS" so loud until a professor gave me a look. I mean, really. And then I decided I should sing that Why? song, "The Vowels Pt. 2," the part about faking suicide for applause in the food courts and malls in the hallway. It's like I am foreign to the whole idea of inside thoughts. I will never be properly employed. But I will have used up my lifetime quota of neologisms! I guess that's all I can ask.

---

Related fact: I have introduced the concept of "inside thoughts" to many undergraduates. My work will never be done, however. Seriously, some girl informed me about her sexual history today, and I am a T.A. Not the professor! A TEACHING ASSISTANT. It's like the internet all over again (I didn't like the internet the first time).

I want a t-shirt that says "how fucking awkward are you". No punctuation, no explanation. I feel like it would apply to so many situations in life. (Originally there was an anonymous comment there that was the source of the phrase. It was amazing. It has been summarily deleted, along with the rest of the exchange, which is probably best, because it was AWKWAAAARD.)

Speaking of which, if Pete Wentz could bring more dramz to the yard, you can be sure he would. DRAAAAAAMZ-FEST. I am glad being sad gives him a case of the boners, man, because otherwise there would be a lot less awesome in the world. PATRICK DON'T LOVE ME NO MORE. GON TELL THE INTERNETS. STOP IGNORIN MY TEXTS PATRICK, OR I'M GON WRITE MORE TERRIBLE PROSE-POETRY. Awesome. Get in my astral pants, you crazy drama fiend, and let's make astral whinerbabies.**

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* I say "pot-belly" because it is a potbelly that resulted from pot use. I love that dude more than I love the P Weez.

** Note: I fully understand Pete's drama ways. Lately I have been feeling massively woebegone because I'm a big jerk who loses the people I care about blah blah blah emotionally removed and avoidant blah blah. Anyway, though, the differences are: 1) I am not famous, thank Christ, and 2) I respond to these feelings by being all "FUCKIN HOMOQUEERS MCGEE" instead of writing poetry. See reasons why I will never be famous. Thank Christ.

How might one replicate the size, shape, weight, and feel of an OB tampon, while managing to make it more durable? What sort of material might one make it out of? My cat enjoys all of his toys, but none more so than when he manages to get his fiendish little mitts on one of my tampons. The downside of this system is that a) they're expensive, so b) when he rips off half of the plastic, and c) then drops it in the toilet, leaving it there like a half-bloated carcass, I d) get ticked off. I don't mind people seeing my tampons skittering willy-nilly across the floor, as it is hilarious, but I am too poor to keep losing tampons to the cat entertainment cause. Your thoughts would be much appreciated!

I think I'm coming to an end with bandom, and with fandom more generally. No, I will not be deleting my journal, because that is a pants thing to do. I might be winnowing my friendslist, however, should I ever grow an actual backbone. I should also figure out some sort of non-academia-related hobby, shouldn't I? Maybe I'll just find a ridiculously obscure fandom. I was contemplating writing Dark Days slash the other day. That might be the ticket. (And yes, violin_road, I will also pursue writing you ridiculous Mormon porn.)

[Note: this is not an official statement of departure. Nothing I ever say is official. I am still writing a long Travis story, for example.]

I brought T, der Boydirndl, up to New York City to meet a bunch of people who are very important to me. While he was there, he managed to roll with an involved discussion of bad fanfiction (complete with reenactments) and correctly used the word "heteronormative" in a sentence. I was very smug. As a due and just punishment for dragging him out there, I have to participate in a role-playing game at the end of the month. My character will most likely die, whoops oh well.

This morning, I got the seat right by the conductor's booth on the subway. This is always my goal, and it brightens my day when I'm able to do it. In this seat, I can see the conductor manipulating the throttle and fiddling with the switches, and I can see the track ahead of us, all dark and gloomy. Today one of my favorite conductors was driving the train, so I stopped by the booth when I got off the train and had a little conversation with him. He told me that he's been working for public transportation for "a while now," but he's been "down in the hole" (driving the subway train) for thirty-five years. Thirty-five years!

The encounter was improved even more when I managed to get out a complimentary reply ("Oh! No wonder you're so good at it!") without sounding stilted and awkward. He seemed charmed by the brief interaction, too. It made me feel much better about the day; this is good, since I arrived at school at 9am and plan to be here, studying, until at least 5pm.

Discussion of warnings on fic is going on again. I am leery of entering this debate -- last time I entered it, I was unclear, unintentionally hurtful, and misunderstood to the point of absurdity -- but I think I can get away with linking and a brief blither.

Link: untappedbeauty's post here, which in turn links to impertinence's very personal and illuminating post.

I really liked that untappedbeauty called out the use of analogies in this discussion. Analogies are extended comparisons, that are used to reveal the underlying reasoning or assumptions someone makes without thinking about them. I find them really useful in the classroom. I often use a rhetorical strategy where I say, "If 'straight' and 'gay' were really sufficient to define sexuality, you'd all be turned on when you're around the ladies in the nursing home." It's a comedic analogy, intended to point out why it's hilarious to assume that our current organization of sexuality is natural or unavoidable. I like what analogies can reveal.

It's important to realize that analogies, however, like metaphors, are descriptive. They illustrate the problem; they don't offer solutions. Even worse, I often see them used in online discussions as a means of distracting from the core of the discussion.

For example: fandom is not the local bookstore; regardless of whether or not warnings should be included in books, your fanporn is not actually a published work, and the context of a fanfiction work is different than the context of a book in a bookstore. This analogy has been used in several places, ostensibly to clarify the lack of responsibility on the part of the author; since, it is implied, a book author is not responsible for their (detached, invisible, temporally/spatially delayed) reader, then the fanfiction author should not be responsible for their reader.

There are a couple of problems with this comparison. First, a book in a bookstore has been read over by editors and publishers; the publishing house chooses to market the book in a particular way, and categorizes it in a certain way. (If you think that books are completely warning-free, you are a n00b to culture and market capitalism. We're affected by extra-textual clues that are placed intentionally.) More to the point: the internet is not a bookstore, and a fanfiction story is not a book. If it were a book you were writing, sure, you wouldn't necessarily have to think about your reader, but it isn't a book. Fanfiction provides a community of like-minded readers who offer feedback, but this direct contact also means that we have to think about those readers far more than we would if our work was published.

As an aside, arsenicjade, whose BBB unfortunately dredged up all this, behaved admirably in this situation. She was asked to warn for something in her story. She did so quickly, quietly, and without fanfare. I want to point that out; she's been unfailingly classy in this, as per usual, and that deserves esteem.

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I realized today that part of my apathy with and dislike for fandom right now might have to do with stress from my job, which means that I might be better able to deal with it when I'm done with this semester (on Friday). It's certainly also that this journal has felt like a far cry from the space for thinking through things that it used to be -- as I told hetrez on the phone tonight, I only post here when I'm sure already, this space no longer having much room for being incorrect or in-progress -- but at least there's another context to it.