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shipperxOkay, this makes the second night straight when I've sworn to work on fanfic and did nothing instead. The worst part is that Chapter 6 has been written and I'm just incorporating beta comments, and I still cannot seem to finish this cursed chapter. Oh well, not like it's two months overdue. (Oops! That's right. It is!) On the bright side, during the commute to work this morning I think I finally figured out how to make Chapter 7 (and possibly 8 work). Oh! And that reminds me that I need to dig up some research on Rimbaud for the story (yes, I know Rimbaud was slightly out of sync, but since it's a time travel story, Spike will have read Rimbaud even if it would have been after William's death. Why? Because I say so that's why! :) Actually because the Leonardo DiCaprio movie "Total Eclipse" came to me when working on some Buffy/Spike banter. And then there's also that "Eddie and the Cruisers" movie (that for some reason I really liked) that quoted it... which I admit I also quoted in an early fanfic (or was it a partial story that I never posted?)
Anyway, I always thought that just turned William/early Spike would have been poet enough to have been unable to resist a book of poetry titled "A Season in Hell"
P.S. - Yes, I know about the pay for fanfic kerfuffle. What else is there to be said about it? To quote X-Files' Dana Scully when talking to Mulder about his obsession with "Plan 9 From Outer Space." (and the fact that he's watched it 42 times) "Doesn't that make you sad? It makes me sad."
Anyway, I always thought that just turned William/early Spike would have been poet enough to have been unable to resist a book of poetry titled "A Season in Hell"
ONCE, IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME WELL
Once, if my memory serves me well, my life was a banquet where every heart revealed itself, where every wine flowed.
One evening I took Beauty in my arms-- and I thought her bitter-- and I insulted her.
I steeled myself against justice.
I fled. O witches, O misery, O hate, my treasure was left in your care...
I have withered within me all human hope. With the silent leap of a sullen beast, I have downed and strangled every joy.
I have called for executioners; I want to perish chewing on their gun butts. I have called for plagues, to suffocate in sand and blood. Unhappiness has been my god. I have lain down in the mud, and dried myself off in the crime-infested air. I have played the fool to the point of madness.
And springtime brought me the frightful laugh of an idiot.
Now recently, when I found myself ready to croak! I thought to seek the key to the banquet of old, where I might find an appetite again.
That key is Charity. (This idea proves I was dreaming!)
"You will stay a hyena, etc....," shouts the demon who once crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Seek death with all your desires, and all selfishness, and all the Seven Deadly Sins."
Ah, I've taken too much of that; still, dear Satan, don't look so annoyed, I beg you! And while waiting for a few belated cowardices, since you value in a writer all lack of descriptive or didactic flair, I pass you these few foul pages from the diary of a Damned Soul.
~Arthur Rimbaud
P.S. - Yes, I know about the pay for fanfic kerfuffle. What else is there to be said about it? To quote X-Files' Dana Scully when talking to Mulder about his obsession with "Plan 9 From Outer Space." (and the fact that he's watched it 42 times) "Doesn't that make you sad? It makes me sad."
