The Scene of the Crime

and let's unveil your greatest alibi
as I watch you return to the scene of the crime
let's ask all your witnesses that will swear
that you were somewhere else that night
and I will stay awake and mine eyes won't rest,
I'll seek out the clues, may my efforts be blessed
I'll follow the trails till I find all the proof that I need
to relieve this ache from my chest

{ Cincinnati Rail Tie }


pospreterito: young man in black with a red tie against a red wall (Default)
[ pos.pɾe'te.ɾ ]
pospreterito: a list of the books in the cataclysm trilogy ({stories} ..cataclysm series)
i may eventually be working on fic of my interpretation of the storyline of moon colony bloodbath, as soon as my "make everyone miserable" urges override the "write something you will actually enjoy writing" and "no not introspective lit-fic in genre fic trappings we have enough* of that" protocols.

*"introspective lit-fic in genre trappings" is possibly a good explanation of what i write, period. everything i write gets incredibly serious!! whoa no matter what i try to do? the formerly apocabigbang fic was just "ahahaha the indelicates and zombies" for christ's saaaaaaaake. most of my origfic also applies, it's just that i tend to take it slightly more seriously to start with.

if i'm using lit-fic trappings, hell, why not actually use ~~~symbolism~~~ too?

so, okay. diseases and parasites! this is a reference post for myself later.

there's a canonical song that set this off: sudden oak death! i mean
Lose a little feeling in my fingers,
gain an edge of panic in my face.
Search for some sign
to tell me just how long I've been here;
Overturn the place
Feels like each time my efforts fail,
the whole hillsides disapprove.
Feel like a man whose veins have frozen overnight
lying there trying to move...
Yeah, when the crack sounds in the wood,
you will know that I'm down for good.
And when the crack sounds in the wood,
you will know, old friend, that I'm down for good.
I want to try to stand my ground,
Dig my heels into the hills;
Hope someone will come to write my ballads
No one will
Sudden oak death is the common name of a disease caused by the oomycete plant pathogen Phytophthora ramorum. [...] Symptoms include bleeding cankers on the tree's trunk and dieback of the foliage, in many cases eventually leading to the death of the tree.
[...]P. ramorum was first reported in 1995, and the origins of the pathogen are still unclear but most evidence suggests it was repeatedly introduced as an exotic species. Very few control mechanisms exist for the disease, and they rely upon early detection and proper disposal of infected plant material.[...]
In Coast Live Oaks and Californian Black Oaks, the first symptom is a burgundy-red to tar-black thick sap bleeding from the bark surface. These are often referred to as bleeding cankers.

red to tar-black thick sap bleeding from the surface. dat imagery.

but what if we had more of dat imagery.

thus, ref list!

  • Cordyceps.
    When a Cordyceps fungus attacks a host, the mycelium invades and eventually replaces the host tissue, while the elongated fruiting body (ascocarp) may be cylindrical, branched, or of complex shape. The ascocarp bears many small, flask-shaped perithecia containing asci. These in turn contain thread-like ascospores, which usually break into fragments and are presumably infective.

  • Cestoda.
    Cestoda (Cestoidea) is the name given to a class of parasitic flatworms, commonly called tapeworms, of the phylum Platyhelminthes. Its members live in the digestive tract of vertebrates as adults, and often in the bodies of various animals as juveniles. Over a thousand species have been described, and all vertebrate species can be parasitised by at least one species of tapeworm.

  • Flukes.
    A species that exemplifies the remarkable life history of the trematodes is the bird fluke, Leucochloridium paradoxum. The definitive hosts, in which the parasite multiplies, are various woodland birds, while the hosts in which the parasite grows (intermediate host) are various species of snail. The adult parasite in the bird's gut produces eggs and these eventually end up on the ground in the bird's faeces. Some very fortunate eggs get swallowed by a snail and here they hatch into tiny, transparent larva (miracidium). These larvae grow and take on a sac-like appearance. This stage is known as the sporocyst and it forms a central body in the snail's digestive gland that extends into a brood sac in the snail's head, muscular foot and eye-stalks.

  • Guinea worms, or "sanke around a stick" according to my late-night fingers.
    There is no vaccine or medicine to treat or prevent Guinea worm disease.[9] Once a Guinea worm begins emerging, the first step is to do a controlled submersion of the affected area in a bucket of water. This causes the worm to discharge many of its larva, making it less infectious. The water is then discarded on the ground far away from any water source. Submersion results in subjective relief of the burning sensation and makes subsequent extraction of the worm easier. To extract the worm, a person must wrap the live worm around a piece of gauze or a stick.

bonus, for word-association:

He knows that if he's very good they'll send him back earthside again, and he won't have any trouble looking normal. He thinks it will be easier to blend in, now. Now that he has a secret, hard and bright in his bones, to hold him upright.

pospreterito: two hands conjuring fire ({stories} ..dae fire and fire)
Song for workers (three-syllable)
Temp Jobs

02. Bring your favourite room to work
At home it doesn't fit
You’ve carried it for long enough
Others may know what to do with it.

04. Bring your other face to work
It’s a near-flawless disguise
But if no one knew you anyway
You should not be surprised.

05. Bring your old ideals to work
Your anthems and your hymns
You do not want them any more
But your peers may well believe them.

06. Bring your flask of jack to work
Take five unwise swings
If your ankles start to burn
You might find you’ve grown wings

07. Bring your button eyes to work
And fail at all to see
Blindness may bring you sympathy;
Take what you can, it’s free.

08. Bring your fear of heights to work
It’s quite a common excuse
But once you’re six feet underground
It won’t be any use

09. Bring your will to live to work
And note a causal change
As casually behind your back
Your days are rearranged

11. Bring your inner child to work
And start a fire at break
Only to find that in the chaos
There’s nothing you would want to save

12. Bring your poetry to work
And hide loose sheets around
—Though in folders, chairs, or ceiling tiles,
Be sure it will be found.

13. Bring your broken rules to work
To stack them in the trash
It’s better if you box them up first
You wouldn’t want to cut your hands

15. Bring your Marxist aunt to work
And scandalise the masses
They’ll act shocked only to forget
Before a full week passes

16. Bring your favourite tree to work
At home there's been a drought
Other people are a different country
Maybe they can help you out.

17. Bring your sousaphone to work
Find it somewhere to stand
You may never have learned to play
But somebody here can.

(Bring your unwritten songs to work
And start a band.)
pospreterito: kneeling, black-clad man holding a woman in a lake red dress' hand ({relationships} ..i will do what you ask)
wrote a song. somehow despite it being 1:30am and full of blaring music, me full of headache and possibly slightly inebriated, i woke up this morning and the tune still worked.

did you know i only do optimism when i'm angry? i used to be a natural pessimist but now i am fucking furious so to spite all you hopeless misanthropists i am sure as hell that everything is going to be all right.

with thanks to actual person 084 and horse ebooks we present a song about the cartographer and the king bearing the title of:

defeating entropy with love and a fistful of nuclear warheads: the memory, the motion picture (it twines around your throat to whisper remix)

otherwise known as 'the teeth song'. )

[teeth song] demo by Al & the Dark Materials
pospreterito: "THAT BOY IS A MONSTER" across a young man's shoulders ({personal} your circuit's dead)
non-polished recording being a distinctly guilty pleasure (not to mention i did this with a pair of earbuds), but god damn it, rika said it was okay.

pospreterito: 'ifupdown' in two fonts (black on black, pink on black) ({stories} ..ifupdown)
i am going to be doing the august session of camp nanowrimo.

if all goes well, i will be rewriting ifupdown. it's about a bunch of demigods who are terrible people and the people they suck into their wake or who just sort of appear there, and how they flail at trying to fix a paradigm shift in how the world works. there's also a lot of pasta, if i remember correctly, and names with too many vowels. the first draft was largely nightwish-fuelled. these are going to be the chapter titles i guess.

do you want to see it as i go?

because first drafts are terrible, i am probably going to be posting it flocked and daily if enough people are interested. since that could be obnoxious, i am making a new filter for that. if you want to see it, let me know, whether or not i have you added even i guess?

disclaimer: there is a small chance you may end up on the filter anyway because sure why not i like you have a thing whether you wanted it or not. there are, like, two people i would do that to, though, so telling me is the best bet if you want to see and this ends up being how i do it and i don't drop out in the first week and so on.

also, here is the mountain goats bootleg (solo, slightly drunk john darnielle, it is wonderful) i am listening to. and here is randall munroe discussing a mole of moles.
pospreterito: two hands conjuring fire ({stories} ..dae fire and fire)

today i got an email from northwestern university saying that they are interested in me as a student because of my 'high' (quotes because they were fucking abysmal and i hate everything, ahem) SAT scores. i have never heard of them before but people seem to like them and apparently they want me.

so i... guess if they don't have a supplement as detailed as, say, stanford's (good god, stanford, what is wrong with you) i... might apply. maybe.

even though i'm convinced either they suck or they sent me the email by mistake. maybe both.

it... still made me kind of gleeful for a while.

am i ever glad i'm over that, right.
pospreterito: a scattered pile of papers and drawings ({process} elegance and thought)
as long as actually explaining and indexing poetry and songs is something i seem to be doing these days:
  • i organise songs i write mostly by theme. this has resulted in having a rough idea of three things that will be albums as soon as i finish writing them.

  • since i am me, they are all of course being written simultaneously (by "written simultaneously" we may mean "being left for dead for ten months out of the year or more, but together!")

  • this actually started as a way to tell apart songs i was writing for the rock opera the short and graceless life of miranda clay from songs i wasn't
so now we have:
  1. The Short and Graceless Life of Miranda Clay, a rock opera about a legally blind girl who dies in a car crash and her kind of terrible friends and acquaintances and hallucinating bereaved girlfriend and how they get themselves killed or ruined or out of the whole mess

  2. Simon Says, an album in practice about reference jokes (it is where things like "i wrote an overqualified + a series of unfortunate events crossover as an allegory for the stages of mitosis" and "MOOOOM DOC SCRATCH WON'T GET OUT OF MY NARRATION MOM MAKE HIM STOOOP" go, and yes, i am not making either of these up, these are both legit songs i have written and am more or less pleased with, help) and in theory about the end of the world (hay simon haaaaaaaay) whether apocalyptic-scale or personal (or my favourite, both!)

  3. [citation needed], an album about... things that aren't simon says, the way ss was about things that weren't TSGLMC. tentative theme is "optimistic futures, also religion", which is a bad approximation of an impression you can kind of only get in my head by flinging the people's key at automatic over and over again.
so because i've never done so before, i went through two years' worth of month-by-month writing folders and pulled up everything that looked songish. APPROXIMATE TRACKLISTS AHOY.

this is going to be long.

because the things i do make sense. )
pospreterito: reads "saint stephen [the city without maps]" ({stories} ..saint stephen with a rose)


form: villanelle
meter: iambic heptameter. i think.
why: i was bored, angry, and lonely
success rate: uh okay...? i mean, i wrote it to have a villanelle i can sing ("the one i can sing.txt") and built the tune around a your mom crack i made at an episode of supernatural and then didn't even use the rest of the line, s... o...
weird title? Y oh my god sufjan stevens when did you start doing titles for me cut it out i can do it myself

When Your Loved Ones Flinch At The Name Of God

'written in a block-breaking stupor from 00:05 to 00:26' say my notes )


form: sestina
meter: iambic tetrameter
why: i was bored, angry, and lonely
success rate: sure why not (not sure what i think of it, but I WROTE A SESTINA, BOW DOWN, basically)
weird title? Y, but informs rest of poem

I've never liked Job

while coming up with the six words: 'god this is horrible i hate you all hm mm what is this, a conman being reprimanded? Hmm mm mm' )


form: terzanelle
meter: reverse iambic hexameter
why: i was bored, angry, and lonely
success rate: it didn't end up conveying quite what i wanted it to. admittedly, what i wanted it to may have been overly complicated, seeing as i can't seem to explain it in anything less obtuse than... dresden files metaphors... good example of why i shouldn't be allowed to write personal poetry, can't do that thing and god knows how obersy et al manage it.
weird title? Y

"What are you going to major in?"
------------------- Or ----------------------
If the World Wins Out

you must have some idea )


form: english sonnet seven couplets because someone got the rhyme scheme for a sonnet wrong
meter: iambic pentameter
why: i was bored, angry, and lonely
success rate: ??? i started with a tweet of david malki!'s and got a distraction. win...?
weird title? Y (however, the titles not in capslock don't count, they're more notes-to-self, but they're at the top of the page so here you go)

(when the lights go out I'll still believe in you; come hell or high water I'm not going into politics; with thanks to Alan Turing and Ada Lovelace)

rewritten so many times, but it took my mind off of trouble i got my own self into by having the emotional range of a teaspoon and the maturity level of my enemies divided by each other )
pospreterito: 'ifupdown' in two fonts (black on black, pink on black) ({stories} ..ifupdown)
in retrospect i am pretty happy with 1025 being called 1025 (love will tear us apart), actually. it's more empathy will tear us apart, or possibly misplaced human decency will tear us apart, or indeed this omniscient asshole will definitely tear us apart, but as symbolism -- even if i nabbed the line from the evelyn evelyn cover, eheh -- i feel it works.

(1025, for those of you just coming in, is one of the two songs on simon says that is actually flagrant homestuck fanfiction disguised as something with meaning. that's the theme of simon says, flagrant in-jokes disguised as something with meaning: see also IPMAT, biology mnemonics disguised as the song version of a softer world; sprechen sie englisch?, a song about the handmaid that got us "is it about the holocaust?" from l; the queen is from, an allegory based entirely on david koresh superstar; citrus, which i wrote to be the backbone for indelicates fanfiction for god's sake; etc. the other theme is apocalypses!)

one time (february 12, 2012, actually) i sang 1025 at my dad and he thought it was a mountain goats song.

the lyrics are as follows: )

and, yeah, the only reason i posted this was because i realised saying i possess Feelings about one stanza without context didn't work

(oh, and i just checked, and the verse/stanza distinction i was raised with was correct, if by this point practically deprecated; i enjoy apocryphal anachronistic accuracy the very very best, so)

so now that you know the song, what i was going 'siiigh yeah okay that's decent' about was twice-damned child, you have not been / trying very hard, have you? / oh, and if you fall behind, / i can't imagine what i'll do

which has, if anything, echoes of the kind of thing i heard all the time, back when i had religion.

pospreterito: reads "saint stephen [the city without maps]" ({stories} ..saint stephen with a rose)
at some point i was going to write a story involving a girl named leda and her cohort of people bound to her in heart and soul and awkward bone marrow. you know. haphazard teenage not-cults, like. everyone but leda had animal names instead of human names, because of reasons.

(the reasons were entirely down by the water and that is fine you hush)

anyway, procrastinating, i came across del's october encounter with the lj markov generator, and okay, a lot of those sound like my song lyrics wow (have you seen my song lyrics lately? there are jews in, now!)

right anyway

this gives us, among others, When Fawn arrives, the three men are still red in the darkness, his mouth barely separated from the exciting centre of the world

and that is almost enough to force me to come up with a plot and characterisation and more than half-baked brainsketches, right there.

(if i weren't as impressionable as a dollop of warm wax perhaps i would ever, ever get anything done.)
pospreterito: black silhouette with white fire in one hand, green background ({stories} ..bracketverse arcturus)
i (know i say this every three months or so) think i might have hit the point of emotional maturity where i can actually kind of figure out characterisation by how i write people!

(yeah, now you know why i don't write much fanfiction. if i can't figure out my own characters' emotions and motivations without a few weeks to stew over it...)

but i keep having little epiphanies about people in the bracketverse, the kind of thing most people would... know before they start writing someone, probably. (i love that i have a meticulous timeline and i am still flying, screaming and reluctant and airlifted by several ducks, by the seat of my pants, and look, these purple jeans do not deserve that treatment.)

but previously i had broken cosma and ciel down by two things, in my notes for chondrilla juncea: she has "gravity and hatred of (falling)" and "failure and hatred of (falling as allegory)" (the worst thing for cosma noline is to fail at stuff). ciel has "air and hatred of (enormity), wind and agoraphobia" and "ignorance and hatred of (enormity and why can't i hold all this world)" (the worst thing for ciel noline is to not know things).

let me tell you about my characters, with citations, and spoil plenipotentiary, chondrilla juncea, there are bodies on the ceiling and they're fluttering their wings, and miscellaneous not-yet-posted 31_days things while i'm at it! )

and, on another note: if anyone is interested in beta-reading there are bodies on the ceiling and they're fluttering their wings for coherency, or indeed in helping me hash out a story i have not started yet but there's lovecraft and politics in and it's in theory for the icarus anthology, um, let me know, that would be awesome.
pospreterito: a list of the books in the cause series ({stories} ..cause series)
no i just


i realised this yesterday while reading a chick track dissection. yep. see, they were going on about the judeochristian Thing about blood, which i am reliably informed is different than, say, the kind of Thing about blood derek or i have because of reasons, and i thought, oh god if the colourverse ever does get published people are going to draw hydan/christ parallels then aren't they, and amused myself for a little while imagining what a shitty messiah aaron hydan would be, i mean, you'd be better off with left behind!jesus at that point even, aaron hydan is... aaron.

that was a very long sentence.

anyway! then there was a very long pause.

then: you know, cat dies...

(this is hardly a spoiler any more, by the way, or maybe the longer i go the more of a spoiler it is; but for those of you playing along at home, the cause trilogy and then the thirteen-book colourverse series happened because the prompt at RaTs was 'quaff' and all i could think of was someone poisoning themselves so i whipped up a universe and a sarcastic narrator to suit and then killed her. yes, i know. yes, i know. out of that, colourverse! the universe where bad things happen to everybody and you will like it!)

today i remembered that reading a different chick dissection (shut up i adore enter the jabberwock 0kay). to wikipedia!
In general, a character should display more than one correspondence with the story of Jesus Christ as depicted in the Bible. For instance, the character might display one or more of the following traits: performance of miracles, manifestation of divine qualities, healing others, display loving kindness and forgiveness, fight for justice, being guided by the spirit of the character's father, death and resurrection. Christ figures are often martyrs, sacrificing themselves for causes larger than themselves.

In postmodern literature, the resurrection theme is often abandoned, leaving us with the image of a martyr sacrificing himself for a greater good. It is common to see Christ figures displayed in a manner suggestive of crucifixion as well.

(emphasis mine. i am the worst judge of character, so her altruistic qualities will have to be left in the lurch for now.)


yesterday i also did a practice SAT, but obviously telling you about this was so much more important. education post later.
pospreterito: two hands conjuring fire ({stories} ..dae fire and fire)
(a partial listing, two nights' worth, from back in january, and sometimes he talked faster than i could keep up because the world is cruel to me; not to be confused with Things Robyn Hitchcock Says Without A Microphone, or indeed Things Bill Rieflin Says Without A Microphone, although the latter involve superheroes too)

a friday and a saturday to be specific )


Apr. 6th, 2012 06:07 pm
pospreterito: reads "saint stephen [the city without maps]" ({stories} ..saint stephen with a rose)
out of the thirty-one 31_days january prompts i picked up half an age (four months and six days) ago,
  • twelve now belong to plenipotentiary, a Long Thing about how ciel noline became the aleph and cosma noline got her eyes, which for the purposes of our mathematics here is a separate thing
  • of the remaining nineteen,
    • twelve have been written
    • seven have not been written
      • three belong to a three-part thing on how arcturus met sam
      • and four are planned and separate.

eleven of the ones that have been written are up on the intarwebs, because i am an excellent host and have been trying to post them in chronological (prompt list) order (as opposed to chronological story order, they aren't in that).

when i finish writing and posting the seven remaining there will be an index! of the twelve that have been written, one was finished and two were done from scratch today, so this may or may not take long depending on how much i'm trying to avoid the dreaded SATs.

so this is as good a time as any for a roundup.

things that are on copretérito that you could totally go read right now:

hey, remember when i said i was going to do monthly roundup posts? (roll laugh track, credits)
pospreterito: black silhouette with white fire in one hand, green background ({stories} ..bracketverse arcturus)
"Yes," Arcturus says, and turns. "Hey, thing. Stop that. Say bye properly."

Tabot stares at him like he must be a madman. Sam's certainly not going to argue with that. "What?"

"I said, say bye properly. Like this: 'Bye properly'."

"Okay." Tabot tilts his head to one side, then says, "Bye properly. Bye Sam. I'll come by in undetermined time period for reasons other than being pursued and introduce myself when things are less hectic, I guess."

"Why'd he get a name?" Arcturus sulks. He turns to Sam instead of watching Tabot walk out the cracked glass doors. "Why'd you get a name?"

Sam shrugs one shoulder. "It's your own fault," he says, which would be a valid answer to almost every complaint Arcturus has ever made.

i'll just be over here drowning in miserable dramatic irony, if that's all right with you.

(also, anyone interested in test-reading a ~30k bracketverse novella? it looks like i might finish it this month, all of a year and 2/9 after i started the damn thing.)

ah hell

Jan. 30th, 2012 10:02 pm
pospreterito: "THAT BOY IS A MONSTER" across a young man's shoulders ({personal} your circuit's dead)
okay, 31_days will be posted only on copretérito and i have until the end of the week instead of the end of the month despite that it's january

because sick

(up next: SCHOOL! THE FESTIVAL! CHRONICLES OF SICKNESS! seriously, my first illness of the year did not disappoint. bam.)
pospreterito: two clasped hands; words: "THE DECEMBERISTS" ({music} ..decemberists feeling 'round)
scott and i did this; your argument is invalid.