Homage to all the Rabbits

Eight year old Mya is bored on a car trip. She’s read all the books she’s brought, and after mentally berating herself for miscalculating the distance between Sydney and Ulladulla, she feels some sort of literary critique is in order.

Side note. It appears that my o’erleaping intellectual ambition has resulted in a compete lack of coherence, logic, sense. Nothing has changed.

Transcript after the cut.

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tastefullyoffensive:

I don’t know what they’re talking about, I always see you smiling :)

Your smile is beautiful and infectious and when I tell you that, I mean it! It’s impossible to be anything but gleeful when you’re smiling at me. Sometimes your smile isn’t even in reaction to anything we’re talking about, sometimes I’ll just look across and you’re sitting there grinning away at me. Such a cheeky grin too! Brilliant white teeth and flashing eyes to match, sometimes I just laugh at the sheer deviousness of it all! I feel incredibly lucky to so often be privy to these gleaming grins of yours, and my heart breaks for those who don’t get to enjoy what I do. But theyre wrong when they say you never smile. You smile regularly; maybe they just aren’t watching you right.

metafictions:

homagetoalltherabbits:

metafictions:

I am seriously considering taking English Advanced Paper 1 under the influence. For shiggles. I’d probably still pass.

I am in love with your mind, Celeste. And why stop at Belonging? We all know the idea for Blade Runner came to Ridley Scott while he was climbing mushroom mountain- if ever there were a way to keep textual integrity…

Unfortunately, I did Looking For Richard and Richard III for that module, and the only way to continue the textual integrity of those works is to write the essay over 10 years with varying beard lengths and a variety of backwards baseball caps. Oh Al Pachino, why are you so invariably ridiculous?

I’ll have to ensure I’m twice as baked, on your behalf. Can’t stop giggling thinking about what other papers would be complimented by a less than sober Mya. English extension, surely. Perhaps then genre theory might actually make sense to me?

metafictions:

I am seriously considering taking English Advanced Paper 1 under the influence. For shiggles. I’d probably still pass.

I am in love with your mind, Celeste. And why stop at Belonging? We all know the idea for Bladerunner came to Ridley Scott while he was climbing mushroom mountain- if ever there were a way to keep textual integrity…

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.

Not true. Not thrilling in the slightest when you let yourself into a silent house and catch movement out the corner of your eye. Reason #456345 why I need to get rid of this ridiculous pet rabbit.

last history log entry :)

ranke not marx. never not relevant. thankyou loucindy.

That doesn’t count as dinner! Dinner denotes ingestion of solids, or some kind of hearty liquid. It did look pretty, ethereal swirls climbing higher and higher into the night sky— but that was not dinner. We’ll not count that as a meal. We’ll not count that as anything much; a neck strained out the window, a hand clenched hard to a chest, pressing against the internal upheaval of lungs that are not having fun, a simple glow illuminating nothing but a poisonous straw, feverish over-the-shoulder checks (nooneslookingnooneslooking). We’ll erase those moments, disperse them amongst the freezing breezes flitting round the house. We’ll apologise.