Useless excuse for a grad student

Dear EoE TA,

You are the most useless TA ever. Assignments were never graded on time, it was impossible to find out if you'd even received our homework, and you came to class approximately four times over the course of an entire semester.

We took the final exam in the class three weeks ago. It was composed entirely of multiple choice answers, meaning there's nothing subjective about the grading and you should be able to whiz through them. There were approximately 70 students in the class, which still doesn't justify not grading the exams sometime in the last three weeks. There is absolutely no reason why the grades should not be up by now.

No love,

Me.

Little Leez :)

My cousin recently posted a picture of me (aged five) to facebook in a big dump of old 90s hilarity. I thought I'd share here. :)

Just to prove that I was cute and little and innocent once.

A cool few days:

SO JUST A QUICK RECAP OF MY LIFE SINCE SATURDAY.

True Grit / Sushi Pizza (better than it sounds) / Japaenese Soda (see above) / Wizarding World of Harry Potter (see below) / Animatronic Triceratops / Single Rider Line (Here's a reward for not bringing small children to a theme park!) / Roller coasters / Catching up with the bestie / Tron Legacy / Starbucks with the bestie / The Fountain of Youth archeological park / Gypsy Cab Co. / St. Augustine Pirate and Treasure Museum / Spinning / Interviewed and photographed for the Times Union (See Friday's metro section! Really I have no idea what is going on.)

I will elaborate on any of these points further upon request!

One week to Young Playwrights Inc. Conference!

Happy holidays to YOU

I don't actually celebrate Christmas - you may have realized this by now. I am a Nice Jewish Girl - it comes with the territory. But I do have an awful lot of friends who celebrate Christmas. I grew up in the Southern United States, so this also comes with the territory. I also know a buttload of Christmas songs, and I inexplicably own a Santa hat with my name on it.

I really like the holiday season, though. I like decorations and fake snow and salvation army santas, and I like buying presents for people I love. Unlike some people I know, I don't mind being wished a "Merry Christmas" at checkout, because it's the season of love and joy and I'm sure the girl at the register is actually cynical enough 90% of the time without me lecturing her on being politically correct and doesn't need to be screamed at: HANUKKAH, I CELEBRATE HANUKKAH. I like gingerbread and candy canes and the Hershey Kiss varieties you can only find for about six weeks between Thanksgiving and the first week of January.

(Except the Cherry Cordial variety. Gross.)

So, blog readers, although I don't celebrate it, I would like to wish you all a very merry Christmas full of love and light and family, and a happy new year as well. (I do celebrate New Years, in case you are wondering)

My plans tomorrow? I'm going to go see True Grit with my family, and then will probably eat some variety of Asian cuisine. (Chinese is traditional, but we prefer Japanese and Thai.)

Here's a picture of me/A Nice Jewish Girl in a santa hat:

(My webcam mirrors everything. The lettering really does go in the right direction)

WHO HAS TWO THUMBS, AND JUST GOT AN A IN HUMAN EVOLUTION, PLAYWRITING 1, AND FUNDAMENTALS OF THEATER ARTS?

THAT'S RIGHT.

THIS CHICK.

(New American Gothic and Evolution of the Earth grades haven't been posted yet, but I'm counting on them being a B and an A respectively.)

So this is pretty cool.

Vocaloids are one of those weird japanese things that I've always been sort of tangentially aware of but never really cared about, though they are pretty neat. I have friends who are really into this stuff, know all the names and histories of the different characters, but I never really cared. They're computer programs. If you have enough time on your hands, you download them and make them sing things. It's fun to listen to, but it's not really something I really care to get involved with, you know?

But I thought this was a really cool video.

The history of the whole wide world is grown-ups behaving like children.

Dear you,

Having now dealt with your immature behavior, it doesn't surprise me that your child is absolutely incompetent.

No love,

Me.

Study Hall Etiquette

I'm noticing that there's a specific way that people sit in a study hall. Isolated desks near power outlets are the most desirable, while central worktables are the least wanted. So if this is the study lounge:

Then the most desirable desks are the ones along the wall, furthest from the door which presents a constant source of distraction. Typically, however, this is divided by which desk is easiest to reach. The result is that the first desk occupied is usually one of the wall-side desks on the lower left hand side, and the second desk occupied is the desk directly across from it.

Once these two desks are occupied, a sorting algorithm is established. You cannot sit back-to-back or next to someone until a certain density is reached, otherwise it's regarded as rude. So the next person to enter takes the wall desk nearest the door, because seeing that there are others already in the study hall, they take the first desirable desk that they see. Once this desk is occupied, the fourth person to reach the lounge takes the top righthand desk against the wall, because it is intermediate between the easiest desk to reach and the most isolated desk, that fits all the requirements - ie, not back to back or next to another person, and not a table.

The desk back-to-back with the lefthand wall desk fills in fifth. Sixth is the desk across from the top lefthand desk.

Seventh is the table closer to the door, because the set of desks in the corner furthest from the door is awkward. It is only occupied once all other desks and one other table have been ruled out, and the bottom right desk is taken first.

From this point on, all desirable desks have been occupied and studiers must choose at their own risk. Back-to-back is always preferable to next to someone, and typically the remaining table will be unoccupied until a large, loud group of Stern students come in to work on their Econ. project. They'll probably be speaking Korean and you'll hate them because they are loud and don't seem to realize that there were other people in the study lounge before they took over.

Once all seats are occupied, anyone else attempting to use the study lounge will be subjected to bored glares until they get the hell out of dodge.

Yours truly avoiding studying for finals,

Leez

What makes a human a human?

"Mitochondrial Eve" is about 100-200 thousand years ago in Africa. This refers to not a single individual, but a single population of perhaps a thousand or fewer individuals from whom all modern humans are descended. While some of the adaptations we see in modern humans are certainly the result of evolving to be smarter, faster, and adaptable, the fact is that your ancestors were all horribly inbred. The skull of H. sapiens is fucking weird looking. Check it out:

H. Erectus:

H. Heidelbergensis:

H. Neanderthalensis:

H. Sapiens.

Do we actually look anything like our nearest relatives? No. Because, just like in West Virginia, it's all relative in Africa 100KYA. Our reduced palette and weird shaped skull? It's probably because your ancestors were making it with their first cousins. What's the fastest way to tell if something is an anatomically-modern Homo Sapiens or not?

Well, if you've got a mandible, the question to ask is... Does it have a chin?

That's right. The fastest way to identify if you've got H. Sapiens or H. Something Else is that little buildup of bone at the base of the mandible. And where does that come from? Well, you're reducing the size of your jaw, and the bone has to go somewhere. And if you decide to move up the face, what's the next defining feature?

Anatomically modern humans have no retromolar space. While in earlier forms the jaw extends past the base of the third molar, in humans the jaw is squashed in to reduce prognathism. What do we pay for our markedly reduced alveolar prognathism? Well, if you've ever had a wisdom tooth pulled, you know - Our jaws can't hold all our teeth. We're evolving out our M3.

You know who else didn't have an M3? H. Florensiensis. "The Hobbit." An island population that, over the course of a few hundred thousand years, managed to reduce everything about itself. You know what they wound up with? Smaller jaws, no M3s, and teeth more jacked up than a Liverpudlian. (No offense to the Liverpudlians.)

So, everything that makes us human? Founder effect. Genetic bottlenecks and inbreeding.

Giga Puddi

Is there much I love more than Weird Japanese Stuff? (Oh. Wait. Rockets, Neil Gaiman, dogs, and chai lattes. )But I do love strange Japanese confectionaries a whole lot. Mochi ice cream? Daifuku? Pocky? Bring that shit on, son. Delicious! And, fortunately, yours truly lives near one of two M2M Asian Grocery Stores in all of New York City. So if this stuff exists anywhere in Manhattan, it should not be too hard to find.

I propose we make this stuff, and do a reaction video. It'll be fun!

ALSO, Christoph Waltz as an angry Austrian Jew in the Water for Elephants movie? Be still, my fangirl heart! Oh Hollywood, you have redeemed yourself from the curse of Robert Pattinson in this truly wise casting choice. Christoph Waltz is a perfect August, all suave and debonair. I am now officially excited to see it!

Inappropriate answers to unspeakable questions.

Just let these wash over you and wonder what they go to.

"Whatever I want to do. Gosh."

"In my purse in the pocket with all the tampons... actually, let me get it for you."

"Because you're a girl."

"I can answer a question without using another question. What do you think I'm doing right now? Oh, shit."

"Whatever you're doing, stop it."

"He was a jackass."

"He was a badass."

"He was a bad seed."

"He'd gone to seed."

"He'd gone to pot."

"He'd gone to smoke some pot."

"We're not smoking pot."

"I used to see something in him. But not anymore."

"It was just a syllable, to make a syllable. Can there be consonants?"

"I tried to keep calm once, but panicking burns more calories."

"I stopped waiting for you."

"It all seems sort of pointless."

"I came here to kick ass and chew bubblegum."

"I came here to dance."

"I came here to have a good time."

"I came here to find the man who killed my father."

"We don't like strangers in these parts."

"Mom told me not to ever talk to strangers."

"There are new kids every season on Barnie because he eats the old ones."

This is the only semblance of coherent thought I am capable of at this point in time.

BUT IN OTHER NEWS,

WHO HAS TWO THUMBS AND PROBABLY ACED HER EVOLUTION OF THE EARTH FINAL?

THIS CHICK.

I think that...

If I have a final and a job interview tomorrow, then my impatience with cinema studies is justified. Especially if we're talking about Parody and Horror and watching Rocky Horror Picture Show. Because when I have all that other stuff on my mind, being subjected to Tim Curry in drag on top of all that is just kind of cruel and unusual. :(

One week until the end of the semester. I really, really need it.

Lol poetry

I dwell in the esoteric.

They'll never find me here.

Three weeks ago

I held up my hands to my reflection

Showed it that

my knuckles were raw and cracked

"How can that be?" I asked it.

"I use lotion."

This morning,

my reflection shouted back:

IT'S BECAUSE YOU CHEW THEM.

And I could not tell if it was I

Or some character in a story

Who was relieved by this revelation

of oral fixation

and is it self-recognition

Or divine inspiration?

This compulsion to chew:

When people borrow my pens

I pre-empt their disgust

"I'm sorry, I chew,"

and I feel disgusted for them

Even as they take my ruined implements

and say "thank you"

and

"It's okay"

and

take notes on

the late cretaceous.

I feel connected to Paranthropus

That ancient relative

whose skull looks more

gorilla

than human

Thet call him

"hyper-robust"

and I memorize teeth sizes

jaw widths

sagittal crests

And I feel connected

because he got that way

through thousands of years

of being compelled

to chew.

STOP CARRYING YOUR CIGARETTES AT HAND LEVEL (And other things)

On multiple occasions I have been walking down a crowded street, ostensibly paying attention to where I'm going and trying to stay out of people's ways, only to feel a sudden stab/burn/shock to one of my hands. Invariably, when I look behind me, I discover that some dumbass has stabbed me in the hand with a cigarette that they are nonchalantly carrying at hand level, on a crowded sidewalk.

I am sure I am not the only person who has managed to get stabbed with other people's cigarettes.

I mean really, what the hell.

In happier news, I made the school paper.

But really people please be more careful with your cigarettes.

No Love Letters: back with a vengeance

Dear disdainful hipster girl,

Every week you sit in front of me in New American Gothic, and every week you look like you hate the world. Is there someone perpetually pissing in your cornflakes? And why do you turn around and give me dirty looks every time I so much as breathe? I have gone out of my way to not even /touch/ the back of your chair as of late, and you still keep looking at me like you wish I would go and die, so I don't know what it is that has you so incredibly pissed off 24/7.

But you know what? Keep right on glaring at me, because I'd rather feel like everyone hates me than go around hating everyone.

No love, me.

So I don't know why I've got 14 hits from Russia in the last day,

But I am kind of curious about it.

(Also today, hits from the US, Germany, and Slovenia! What the heck?)

ALSO HAS ANYONE ELSE NOTICED THAT SOMETIMES THE HOT WATER IN PALLADIUM IS BROWN? D:

You are fair game if:

• You know I blog.
• You read my blog.
• You are related to me.
• I have known you for an exceedingly long amount of time.
• You are famous.
• There is a noteworthy event involving you.
• You are involved in amusing anecdotes I feel comfortable letting my mother read.

I will not blog about you if:

• You don't know I blog.
• You don't read my blog.
• I just met you and you are not famous.
• You don't read my blog yet but might in the future.
• I think you would be kind of weirded out if you knew I was blogging about you.
• You asked me not to.
• Anecdotes involving you are not mother-appropriate. (Like, if we got drunk together... I wouldn't blog about it.)

So, basically, by reading this post you are FAIR GAME.

Also Jesus Christ on a cracker, the roomies and I watched this tonight and it is amazing. I want to make movies like this.

Zoo day!

Today I went to the Bronx Zoo. It's kind of the wrong season for it, because it's cold and most of the animals are inside for the winter and it gets dark at like 4:30, but it was pretty fun. A lot of their exhibits (birds, primates, amphibians, reptiles....) are indoors, so we were still able to see them, and for $5 it's not really something to sniff at! Also they had tiger cubs and they were adorable. :) By the time we made it to the lions they'd already gone in for the day, though, and it seems like the zebras, wild dogs, and baboons were apparently never out at all today.

And it was cold and kind of an old, sad zoo with no sense to the layout and exhibits that were kind of prehistoric but it was fun and I met people and had a good time walking around talking to people.

The worst feeling in the world

Is getting a load of critique and then being told, "But you're done for the semester! Don't edit this right now! Don't even think about it! In fact, I expressly forbid you from editing!"

Asdfghjkl;;asd

I am literally sitting on my hands right now trying to not do rewrites. Sunday I'll start on my paper for cinema studies and hopefully forget all about my pressing need to TYPE TYPE TYPE DELETE DELETE DELETE WRITE LIKE A MANIAC.

But seriously giving me critique and telling me not to do anything with it is sadistic, man.

Like some kind of weird fanfic (My friends are the best.)

So last night I finally sent my friend Caleb (who writes an amazing blog called Does This Make Me Look Hipster?) a copy of Like a Dog In Space since he's been begging to read the whole thing for literally forever. And he read it and loved it and raved about it, and then he was like, "I've had Katy Perry's song Firework stuck in my head this whole time."

Five minutes later, he was adjusting the song lyrics to vaguely summarize the plot of the play, and it was quite honestly the most awesome thing I've ever received.

With his permission, I'm reposting it here. (The first stanza is in capslock for some odd reason.)

DO YOU EVER FEEEEEL LIKE A DOG IN SPACE
DRIFTING, THE RUSSIANS LOSE THE RACE
DO YOU EVER FEEEEEL LIKE YOU'RE INANIMATE
HAVE NO WAY TO TALK, YOUR BEST FRIEND IS A ROCK
YOU HAVE TO FIIIILE THE PAPERWOOOORK GET MISTER PAPPEEEERS TO SIIIIIGN
JUST WEEEEEAR THE ROOOOOCK AND TRY NOT TO DIE
CAUSE BABY YOU'RE A MAAAAAAANEQUIN
FOR DECADES YOU WILL TRYYYYY TO WIN
MAKE US GO AW, AW, AW
CAUSE YOU'RE STILL NOT A COSMO NAW, NAW, NAW-UT
Do you ever feel like a dog in space,
Drifting past the moon,
No way to come back home?
Do you ever feel, feel inanimate,
Unimportant,
Like an old Maket?
Do you ever feel you’ve been decided for?
Your time’s already up and you have just barely begun.
Do you know that there’s
That there’s a guy for you
And he’ll help see you through
You’ve just gotta create
Your fate
And take
The bait
He’ll give
You life
Just open your eyes
‘Cause baby you’re a Mannequin!
Doomed from the start, never to win.
Show them all the mi- i- ight
The might that you personify-y-y.
Baby you’re a Mannequin!
Prove to them that you can win!
Make them go ah-ah-ah!
As you become a cosmona-a-aut!
You don’t have to feel like a dog in space.
‘Cause now you have a place
To help in the space race.
If you only knew
The possibilities
The opportunities
Borne from necessity
Could be they’d help you find
The place that you could go
A man whose sure to know a way to keep you comin’ home
Bring him a meteor
He’ll open up a door
It won’t be long before
He will help you create
Your fate
So don’t
Be late
He’ll set
A date
There’ll be no more dummy crates!
‘Cause baby you’re a Mannequin!
Doomed from the start, never to win.
Show them all the mi- i- ight
The might that you personify-y-y.
Baby you’re a Mannequin!
Prove to them that you can win!
Make them go ah-ah-ah!
As you become a cosmona-a-aut!
[This part didn’t need to be changed:]
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon.
It’s always been inside of you
And now it’s time to let it through
‘Cause baby you’re a Human!
And now you have a chance to start again.
Leave them all behind in fli-igh-ight
And redefine what’s wrong and ri-igh-ight.
Baby you’re a Human!
Papers let you start again!
Be what they all said you’re no-no-not!
You will become a cosmonau-nau-naut!
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon!
Boom, boom, boom,
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon!

I am thankful for (one day late)

1) I am thankful for parents who love me. When I was younger, I used to bemoan that they weren't cool enough, and then I grew up and realized that even though my parents aren't "cool," they're happy and smart and successful and have the best intentions for me.

2) I am thankful for everyone else's parents who love me - the people who even though they don't have any obligation to, make sure that I'm doing okay/let me crash at their house/have had some hand in my growth into the person I am today.

3) I am thankful that in the last year I have had so many learning opportunities and have come out of them a stronger, smarter, more mature person.

4) I am thankful for the "Still stuffed the next morning" feeling I have because it means that my family has enough food to keep stuffing it down my throat until I feel sick.

5) I am thankful for the shitty fold out couch I slept on last night because freezing my ass off in a hotel room sure beats spending thanksgiving on the streets like the homeless people I pass on my way to class.

6) I am thankful for my friends who love and support me, who are always good for a joke or something to do. Whether I met you last week or last month or five years ago, thank you for being a friend. :)

And thank you, reader, for reading my blog. I wish you a happy and healthy new year, and hopefully I'll see you right back here next November.

Gratefully yours,

Leez.

What is there to say?

A girl I went to high school with died today of natural causes. She wasn't sick and she wasn't in an accident. She had a brain hemorrhage and then four days later she died and it came out of nowhere. I've had a friend my age die before, but it never gets easier to hear someone you know has died, and so suddenly as well.

Really, that's all I have to say.

Verbal sketching

I imagined I became a mole person

And strung up my hammock

between pylons

In an old abandoned subway station.

And every night, the other runaway kids

and me

lie awake and listen

to the sound of

sewer rats mating.

I imagined I rode the trains

all night long

right down to the place where

they turn around

in that old abandoned station

with the jewel-tone tiles

in the roof.

And it's all so pretty,

so pretty,

so pretty,

And it's all so clean,

so clean,

so clean,

because

they never let anyone in.

Sun I am disappoint.

I was really, really excited for the new Golden Sun game. Like, I don't buy video games often, but I would have bought this one. But then I went on the website and read the character summaries and... ugh! They're so derivative of the last generation of games! I know that generation Xerox is a trope, but we've even got villains pushing the protagonists to accomplish their mission and a mysterious masked man. I don't know much about the plot yet, but for a game set 30 years after the original pair and released some ten years later, this is upsetting.

The original Golden Sun games were hailed for their originality in story, setting, and gameplay. While the battles are nothing new if you've ever played any incarnation of Final Fantasy ever, they were pretty fun, and there were a lot of good/nerve wracking puzzles to figure out. The new game looks like it's sticking too closely to the original, and it worries me.

At any rate, the game doesn't hit North America until November 29th, so I'll wait for some American reviews before I decide whether or not to get it. At any rate, playing it would be good for nostalgia, and I am a bit eager to return to that exciting, imaginative world the first games took me to. :)

So today was interesting.

Today, I:

1) Went to an AUSA (Anthropology Undergraduate Student Association) movie night and watched a documentary about the Amish.

2) Made new friends.

3) Played old school Super Smash Brothers

4) Went to a fucking awesome poetry smash.

5) Finally saw my amazing friend Chris perform (he's a hip-hop/rap artist and poetry slammer)

6) Was told by a random person in an elevator that they loved me.

7) Came home and finally watched the movie Moon.

8) Which is a fucking amazing movie. HERE'S A TRAILER, ADD IT TO YOUR NETFLIX QUEUE, IT IS AWESOME. Seriously, I think it's the only movie I've seen that actually manages to match the mood and style of 2001: A Space Odyssey and do a good job of it. I'm easily fascinated by speculative/realistic Sci Fi, but this was seriously amazing. Also I really like the theme music and I need it for my writing playlist.

Hey Sarah Palin,

Leave my first lady alone.

You, Sarah, are a washed up hack hanging onto her fifteen minutes of fame, who can't even raise her own children to understand that calling people faggots on facebook isn't socially acceptable behavior, let alone possibly be qualified to run a country. Your own relatives on the record saying you dropped out of U. Hawaii because there were "too many Asians" and you're currently in a fight with Alaskan Fish and Wildlife over getting too close to a family of bears, on national television. Your political track record consists of making embarrassing social gaffs, pandering to your competition ("Can I call you Joe?"), exposing yourself as an inarticulate ass on national television, and quitting halfway through your term as governor of the least densely populated state in the union. You advocate fear and misinformation.

The list goes on.

Michelle Obama, on the other hand, is classy, intelligent, well-spoken, educated about her causes, and stylish as all get out. You quoted her out of context and frankly your remarks about her hating white people only make you sound like an ignoramus. You didn't even actually say half the one-liners people attribute to you - Tina Fey did. You aren't even half as witty as she is.

In short, Michelle Obama is a better mother, politician, and all around human being than you could ever hope to be.

So shut up.

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt."

-Abraham Lincoln

TVtropes is down.

Oh my god I don't know what to do with myself how did I ever live before TVtropes. :(

EDIT: And then it came back and I went back to wasting my life on the internet forever.

They're dogs! They're dogs in space!

So my friend Lydia and I have decided that we are going to find ourselves a Yuri's Night party to go to, come hell or high water, and if we don't then we'll throw our own, eat pizza and astronaut ice cream and mocktails, and watch space-themed movies and TV shows. There's a long-established Yuri's Night party in NYC, but it's 21-and-up, and we happen to be... nineteen. So yeah, that's unlikely.

But what I would really like to get ahold of is a copy of this cute little kids movie that will probably never see an american release. They're dogs! In space! Based on a true story! What more can you say about it?

Anyway, April 12th 2011 is the 55th anniversary of Vostok 1, and we are going to celebrate it one way or another.

Isn't he just adorkable?

Oh Dan Radcliffe, I think I love you. We'd be a perfect match.

Just saying.

For me, the scariest part of the shining is when Wendy realizes Jack's just been writing the same phrase over and over again where he thought he was writing his magnum opus. I am scared of waking up one day and realizing everything I've ever thought I accomplished was actually complete shit.

Just saying.

IT'S DONE.

Well, first draft, at any rate. Weighing in at 75 pages, two acts and twenty scenes, let it be known that Like a Dog in Space has made it to the point that I'll be going over it ferociously with a ballpoint pen tomorrow morning furiously revising every last detail.

Also,

Let it be known that I do, in fact, understand the difference between Korolyov and Star City. Korolyov is mission control and manufacturing, and Star City is training. One is a suburb of Moscow and a city in its own right, the other is a military base that's slowly been evolving into a town since the 1960s. However, Korolyov was called Kaliningrad in the 1960s, which is incidentally also the name of a different, more major city further west, and it shares its current name with Sergey Korolyov (though in the play I've chosen to go with the alternate spelling Sergei Korolev, since this is the spelling I've seen used by actual cosmonauts). So, even though most of the action of act one more properly takes place in Korolyov/Kaliningrad, I've consolidated it into Star City for the sake of clarity, and also because... come on, Star City is a totally boss name.

(Incidentally, there are no less than four towns called "Star City" in the United States, in Arkansas, Michigan, Indiana, and West Virginia.)

Anyway, the point of that was that I really did do the research, and then chose to ignore it and exercise a thing called "artistic license." I was discussing this with a friend earlier and we came to the conclusion that the battle between factual accuracy and artistic license is one of the big dilemmas that comes with dramatic writing as a field. You want to do enough research to respect your subject matter, but don't want to include too much information that you sacrifice clarity. If you don't do enough research and just make shit up, then your name is Dan Brown and the Catholic Church puts you on their blacklist.

That and this is subject matter I'm really, really passionate about and I'd hate to do it any less than what it deserves. My geekiness must be shared!

Alright. Big day of revisions tomorrow. I'm off to bed.

Astronautically yours,

Leez.

PS - Did anyone notice I rewrote my bio in the sidebar? c:

I can see the finish line.

Right now, Like a Dog in Space is 62 pages long, which means it's officially the longest thing I've ever written, and I only have a finite number of scenes left to write. I had an epiphany this morning about how to bring it full circle and I'm really excited to get there.

Back when I was blogging on Livejournal (No link - it's full of emo shit), I'd occasionally post excerpts of things I was working on, or had worked on and put aside, and today I'd like to do something like that with a rough few first pages of Like a Dog in Space that I worked on over the summer on my way home from Blank YPF. I wrote about six pages, which included a frame story I ditched along with the earliest versions of the sisters centurion, although their names were Ingenuity, Perseverance, and Honesty then. Ingenuity made it furthest into the current draft but her name got changed to Possibility pretty quickly when I realized it was a clunker. Ivan's basically the same, though some of his temporality and goals got altered when I started working on it for real.

So then, for the rest of the post, enjoy the things I scrapped!

-----------

(Crickets chirp through the thick air of a summer night. BEN and ANNIE lie in their pajamas on a beach blanket in a yard somewhere in the United States.)

BEN

Do you hear that?

ANNIE

Hear what?

BEN

That’s the sound of the universe dying.

ANNIE

Are you sure? I just hear crickets.

BEN

You know what I did at school?

ANNIE

Learned to use big words and act like you’re smarter than me?

BEN

No. I looked through a fancy telescope and I saw all the way out to the edge of the universe and do you know what I saw?

ANNIE

I don’t know… God?

BEN

No. I saw that the universe is dying. I saw light from stars so far away that it’s taken twelve billion years for their light to reach our eyes. It takes so long for their light to reach us that the stars aren’t even there any more by the time we see them. So what I saw, Annie, what I was looking at was a dead star. I was watching it die.

ANNIE
I liked you better when you didn’t talk like this, Ben.

BEN

Look up. One by one the stars are dying. The universe is going cold.

ANNIE
This is depressing.

BEN

Do you see it? The whole sky flickering out into oblivion—

(It gets slightly darker.)

ANNIE

It’s just getting cloudy. It’s supposed to rain after midnight.

BEN

And I walk through the streets every day, watching all of the people walk past, worrying about this-and-that-and-this-and-that, tied to their phones, and I wonder-

ANNIE

You’re being really weird, Ben.

BEN

Does anyone know the stars are dying?

(Annie looks at him for a moment, then rises to her feet.)

Where are you going?

ANNIE

Inside. Did you stop taking your pills?

BEN
They block the scientific process, little sister.

ANNIE

I’m telling Mom.

(She exits. Ben surveys the darkening sky.)

BEN

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. We’ve got front row seats to the farewell performance. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how the universe dies.

(He rises, picks up the blanket, and drapes it around his shoulders like a cape. The crickets chirp. In the distance, cars whiz down an interstate. And beneath it all, the tinkling sound of falling stars. Annie re-enters.)

ANNIE

Mom says to come inside and take your pills.

BEN
She does?

ANNIE
She also says that you’re twenty-three years old and she shouldn’t have to remind you to take them.

BEN
Tell her I’ll be in in a minute.

ANNIE

She said now.

BEN

I’m a big boy. I won’t get lost between here and the front door.

ANNIE

(Sigh.)

Ben.

BEN

(Bigger sigh.)

Annie.

ANNIE

…What am I going to tell Mom?

BEN

Just like I said, that I’ll be there in a minute.

ANNIE

And if you’re not?

BEN
Then she can come get me. Stop letting her make you do her dirty work.

(He nudges her away.)

Go on.

ANNIE
I’d better not get in trouble for this.

(She exits. Ben looks to the sky.)

BEN

I’m on to you. They might not know the light is fading, but I do. I will peer into your inky blackness and see nothing, seek the fires of creation and find only cinders, journey to that wall of brightness at the edge of the universe and find that the fires all burnt out a long time ago-

(The tinkling of falling stars grows louder, drowning out all other noise. A spot of light appears on Ben’s face. His speech gains a frenzied quality.)

Reality is an illusion and perception is a lie, the stars spin and then burn out-

(The light grows brighter.)

The constellations glow for a single moment and then blink out, like chain of Christmas lights gone bad-

(Brighter still.)

We burn, we are consumed, time marches on in the cold dark!

(A flash, and then sudden darkness. Through the dark, female voices sing a sweet three-part harmony.)

INGENUITY, HONESTY, AND PERSEVERANCE

Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird. And if that mocking bird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring don’t shine…

(The voices are drowned out by the sound of falling stars. Lights up on INGENUITY, HONESTY, and PERSEVERANCE, kneeling. They all wear simple white dresses, the styles varying to be appropriate to their relative ages.

IVAN IVANOVITCH lies in front of them, his head in Ingenuity’s lap. He is barefoot and wears a shabby jumpsuit. One arm is decorated with a soviet sickle and hammer, the other with an illegible patch that gives the general impression of having to do with outer space. Around his forehead, he wears a paper headband emblazoned with the word “MAKET.”

In his arms, he holds a plush dog. If it were a real dog, it would weigh about thirteen pounds. The noise recedes after a moment.)

IVAN IVANOVITCH

I never had a mother.

HONESTY

Well, to be fair, neither did we.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

But you seem so… motherly.

INGENUITY

Hardly. You just don’t expect very much from a mother.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

How would I know what a mother is supposed to be like?

PERSEVERANCE

We had another sister, Necessity. She was the maternal one.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

What happened to her?

(The three women whisper to each other briefly.)

HONESTY

She died.

PERSEVERANCE

Nobody told you about this place?

IVAN IVANOVITCH

No… what should they have told me?

PERSEVERANCE

This is a graveyard for ideas. It’s a place where thoughts, notions, and dreams go to die. Things get junked, but ideas come here to waste away.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

So what are we doing here?

HONESTY

My sisters and I – we are Ingenuity, Honesty, and Perseverance. Along with Necessity, we were the spirit of the 20^th century. But, you see, now it’s the 21^st century. We’re no longer needed.

INGENUITY

We’ve been replaced by Excess, Desire, Single-mindedness, and Worry.

PERSEVERANCE

They’re not as catchy names, are they?

IVAN IVANOVITCH

No, they’re not.

PERSEVERANCE
What’s your dog’s name?

IVAN IVANOVITCH

Chernushka. She’s my co-pilot.

PERSEVERANCE
The dog is your co-pilot?

IVAN IVANOVITCH

We’re cosmonauts. We crash-landed here.

HONESTY

Oh. Oh! I’m so sorry.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

What for?

HONESTY

You didn’t crash-land here. You were forgotten, outmoded, lost to time and history.

INGENUITY
Tell us your name – we’ll repeat it and remember it. Remembering each others names makes the fading slower.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

Ivan Ivanovitch.

(The women join hands.)

INGENUITY, HONESTY, AND PERSEVERANCE

Ivan Ivanovitch. Ivan Ivanovitch. Ivan Ivanovitch. We will not forget you. Ivan Ivanovitch.

IVAN IVANOVITCH

What do I do now?

PERSEVERANCE

You go. You explore. You find other travelers, other obsolete ideas, and you tell them who you are, and you tell them who you’ve met. If we keep each others names in our minds, the fading slows down.