#2, 11 January 2008, "Grievance: a villainelle"

This week's offering was occasioned by Snog threatening retribution if I dared write vampire poetry (his assessment of which I cheerfully endorse, and this effort reinforces). Insincere apologies, deer hart, but you really should know better.

VAMPIRE SQUIFFY IS EMO. This has been assembling itself at a leisurely pace in my head all week. I tried not to let it be pentameter, forcing it instead into Black Death's tetrameter. It tried to spit itself back out. I think it tells, quality-wise; I'm not good at being so brief, at least not when it started off more lengthy. And I'm still not happy with the order, so this whole thing might change later on.

I don't particularly intend all of these to be in-character. I do, however, have the urge to rework this just so I can get the congenial/congeal pun in there somewhere.

Fraternal twins, having been divided at birth, got married before they realised they were brother and sister.

Every time I read a news story about people not knowing they had a twin, I wonder why. Who would lie to their children like that? But never mind all the cloak-and-dagger stuff—who would decide to give one, or both separately, away in the first place?

Not that I'm in favour of gamete donors being forced to disclose their identities, beyond the stuff the child needs to know like incidence of genetically-linked disease. Children with siblings alive at the time they were adopted, though...

This blogger has a major thing against splitting siblings up, especially monozygotic ones. Not sure why. But it explains, upon reading a certain book recently, why I was spitting fur and practically ready to kill the author. I found everything else in the book flat and unaffecting, but the sibling occurrence was a cheap shot.

edit, 16:00–16:44: Unrelated story; do NOT read if you are an animal lover and don't want to be filled with the urge to cause massive internal trauma to people using a boathook. If the owners of that car ever came under my power...

Now I've finished quivering, have some Deutsche Schäferhunde, who are being trained to be bilingual. Try three languages, sign language and whistles before six months of age and you'll have someone as clever as the Goldens I grew up with. Sucka.

Child suspended for having long hair which is ultra-funny when you realise the photo caption (at time of blogging) calls it "strangly locks" (sic).

[video] Gynaecomastia FTW. (Gynaecomastia is the condition, NOT the operation.) Poor guy. There are no brilliant solutions as far as concealment goes. A few places do support-type underwear, but those are mainly in the US and expensive. Suxxors.

And finally, what strange humans make out of snow.

*waxes enthusiastic for a moment*

Gamma Ray's Powerplant is a damned good album. Or a selection of damned good songs, which I suppose is the same thing. Honestly, though, you've got some Basaltinely¹ badassery, angels behaving badly, beautiful Manowar parody, epic-length planet-destroying lulz... truly something for everyone.

Everyone, that is, who enjoys the sort of power metal that comes from Germany and consistently rhymes "space" with "human race" and doesn't consider a song complete unless someone (human, vehicle, eagle or occasionally horse) is airborne in a bitchin' fashion.

(edit: oh yes, and I even forgot about the Pet Shop Boys cover. WIN.)

However, just realised that perhaps I shouldn't stroll around the workplace cheerfully whistling Dethrone Tyranny from their other album, No World Order!. (Claiming that this was entirely absent-minded would not, I suspect, be as reassuring as I mean it to be...)

¹ Basaltine already means basalt-ish, so this feels naughtily tautological. English language, I hurt you because I care.