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psalm_onethirtyoneAnd. Er. Well.
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metaphora: 'tis the 'Pick Fifteen People and Say Something About Them and Make Them Guess' Meme.
1. You're the person I love best, although it's quite platonic love. It's very difficult to find a way to tell you this, because I'm very good at telling people that I love them but not at making them realise how much I mean it. I admire you so much. I've always admired you, I think, but it seems to get stronger the longer I know you. You're one of the most amazing writers I've ever known, and you don't pick just every character to write about--but the ones you do pick are always ones you seem to understand or to be so well. You're also a wonderful person. I don't know if you know how surprisingly gentle you can be, or how much I feel as though I've gotten a gift when you are to me. You've a wonderful snarky sense of humour, and you talk very intelligently about fandomy things, which I like a lot. I'm always a tiny bit afraid when I'm talking with you, because I'd like you to like me always, and I don't want to say something that will bother you. I rather want you to approve of me, I think. Also I wish I could be more use when you're troubled, but I always seem to be struck rather senseless when it comes to saying something helpful, although I don't have that trouble so often with other people. I worry about not making you happy. All the same, I'm often most happy when I'm talking with you, and I love you so, so much.
2. You are beautiful and sweet and hysterical and I love you madly, even though half the time I couldn't say why. I have my flist colour-coded, and you're white on black, which is just right because it's like little glittery white stars (they are, you know) in the sky in the middle of the night when it's cool and still and dark. I like that. I like you. I wish I could make you happy oftener, but I also think you're growing up more and more every time you write and think about the things that make you sad or upset or things. You're elegant and you're mad insane by turns. This sounds patronising, but it's not meant to. I think some day you're going to be so happy.
3. You've made me braver, I think. It's been very good to know you. Your colour on my flist is sandy brown with red, which when I first did it jarred me a little and made me wonder why I chose it, but now I couldn't imagine any other colours. I think you are one of the neatest, easiest, most comfortably awesome people I've ever known, even when you're denying it firmly. You have a wonderful truthful way of capturing real feelings in your writing even when your mechanics don't work, which always makes them jump out and feel real, and I always remember them. Your silly writing is just fun, like eating flavoured ice in the summer. You're funny and I can't ever think about you without smiling, and you're the closest thing I've had online to a real best friend, the way I'd always wanted someone to be.
4. I have the biggest. damn. crush on you. Like a schoolgirl. I fall in and out of love all the time, but I invariably realise I've always loved you steadily, and I feel like singing and laughing and twirling in circles when you write to me or talk to me or comment on my posts or write with me. You understand everything so well. I can describe any feeling, with words or colours or music, or any other incoherent symbolic silliness that is in my mind, and you understand. I have told you so many times what I think of your writing that I don't think it's the most important thing I could put here, but I do love it. I love how any character always feels safe with you. I love the way you describe things to me, because I can always see them. I love how nothing would make me happier than to have you hug me realio trulio right there in person, but it's all right if that doesn't happen. Also I think you must be the most beautiful person I know. I always believe that you're not afraid of anything, which isn't true, but you're so brave. You're so good. And you make me want to sing and laugh and twirl in circles under I fall down, and make me feel bubbly and excited and joyful inside. As I said, biggest. damn. crush. ^___^
5. I was rather frightened of you when I first met you, and actually I still am. You seem so sophisticated, even in your sadness, always in your entries, and at the same time a little drawn-back. I like you! I do, and I'd like you to like me, but I'm still rather terrified. You're also terribly pretty, and everybody seems to like you and is so friendly with you that it makes me shy.
6. You are brilliant, you know. You just undermine it a lot, which sometimes makes it hard to see at once. But you are. You make talented things that make me so impressed and delighted. I have a very hard time putting you into words, because you're rather remarkable and I always classify you in icons, which is bad and I ought not do. But. Let's see if I can come up with a good way of describing you, or at least talking about you. You know, first of all, you're one of the most human people I know. Your journal always feels like a real world, sometimes moreso than number three (I think this is because you update oftener). I like to hear about it. I like to know what's going on. You always know so much about what is happening in the world, instead of in the squeeful little LJ world. I have been inundating myself with DF lately, and your journal is another place entirely, a place it's good to go. And--no, I'm not going to be able to do this. I can tell already. All right, things I really like about you: Your rants. Your posts. Your icons. Your geekeries. The fact that you like Jules Verne, the fact that you talk about thinks matter-of-factly, that you introduced me to the joyous madness of Notre-Dame de Paris. (This tells you who you are, right there. :D Ha.) You are never, you know, ever going to end up in a cardboard box in New York. You're too talented for that. You may not be a world-famous composer someday, but anything you compose will be good and people will listen to it. And, well, if you do think you're going to end up in cardboard box, call me. You can live with me and my strawberry plants, and I'll make strawberry pies and never click my pens.
7. I can't begin to describe the way I love the way you talk. I love the way you talk. I love the way your characters talk. You write everything (mind that I don't mean everything ever comes out the same, only that you have the same goodness in everything) with an openness, with a clarity, which a bizarre, mad, clever sense of humour, with a beautiful, soft sweetness, with a tentative joy, with a serious anger or bitterness or sadness. Everything you write, I suppose I could say, feels honest. That's not quite right, though. Everything you write makes me so glad I read it. Everything you write makes me wish you'd written even more. Also, I can't help it, I've fallen in love with every character you play. I don't mind. (Sometimes I do.) I like you very much, and I want you to love me as much as I love you. I like it when you talk to me, and I used to be jealous when you talked to somebody else--I'm not that way now, but I still feel rather delighted when you talk to me, and am still horribly nervous about IMing you, because I don't want to annoy you and I'm so demn scared that I shall. You seem to approve of my and my antiquity, so if I ever send you a smiley or use some noticeably modern slang, I feel like cringing and as though I've done something that means I'll have to wait nervously until you send back and don't seem to be bothered. I'm very shy of you, which I suppose is an aftereffect of being smitten with you at one point. I want so much for you to like me, and no matter how much you say you don't hate me, I still feel I need to ask you as often as possible. If it's any help at all, you're not the first person to whom I've behaved this way. I hope you won't hate me after reading this. ^^;;;; I think you need to smack me gently and insist that you are not going to turn on me the next second and tell me you never want to speak to me again. Er. Unless this is the case.
8. I wish I could fix the world for you. If I could I'd do it in a split-second. I wish I could offer an explanation of things for you, or be able to solve the problems you write about. I wish I could make everything all right, I wish I could offer advice that honestly helped, I wish there was more I could do than my lopsided empathy. In addition to this, you make me laugh, I feel comfortable with you, I love to talk to you, and I wish to heaven you spoke louder, because you have such a lovely voice. :D I love you very much.
9. I think you don't really think as little of yourself as you say you do, but I'm not sure. You're my personal favourite enigma, and I wish you didn't live so far away, because I'd like to send you letters in coloured markers. I love the way you draw! Just in a squeeful, delighted way, because it's pretty and funny and I never expect it. I love the way you write! Because it's beautiful, and you think of things that I've never thought of, and you use a style that's like Douglas Adams writing with Virginia Woolf's ideas. Things are broken-lined and only attach to one another in the oddest, barest ways, but they're so beautiful. And if you haven't read Orlando, I shall hound you until you do. Aside from this, I don't stand in awe of you but I don't feel absolutely your equal. I would like to understand you better sometimes, and sometimes not. I feel safe with you. And cinnamon. And Yggdrasil. And I think you don't really think as little of yourself as you say you do, but I'm not sure, so I shall tell you anyway how beautiful you are.
10. Had I a beautiful world to give you...! I want to reach out and touch you sometimes, but I'm not sure how. Everything you do seems as though I'm looking at it through a pretty clear glass window, because I can't help or I can't smile enough. Your poetry is magic, although you don't believe it. Some day I want you to be perfectly happy, and I want you to love yourself. I wish somebody would make you happy. I don't know whether I can (I don't think I can, because I don't understand you well enough), but I wish to heaven somebody would. I believe that you deserve it.
11. You make me laugh, you make me happy, you make me rampantly silly. You are a lovely person, but perhaps you're shy? Sometimes I think so, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I think you just like to be quiet, like Molly. You read innocent books and love innocent things, but I don't think that means that you're childish, or even so innocent, although I think perhaps you are partly. I don't comment on your livejournal as much as I'd like, but we play comment tag often enough. I don't quite know what to say about you, except that you're another person with whom I feel perfectly safe, as much so as with number three. It's a slightly different kind of safe, but it still exists. It's a slightly less real kind of safe, as in playing with reality. But that makes it sound rather bad, and it's not. It's good. I'm very glad I know you. I want you to have a good life, but I'm also fairly confident that you will. You are a good person.
12. I'm a little frightened of you still, because you're so amazing and smokey-grey and lavender, which I've probably told you before, and so secret and soft and like smoke in trees before a storm, which is a good thing, but so secret and secretly beautiful that I am a little frightened of you still. Also I think I offended you the first time we met. Nevertheless, I'm so excited when you talk to me and I like it when you like something of mine. There's so much of yours that I like, too.
13. I miiiiiss you! But I still pray often as I remember (because I am regrettably forgetful) that you will be the happiest girl in the world, because you deserve it so, and although I haven't heard from you in months and months and months, I hope that you are happy. ^_^ And you are always my big sister. Also I send you Archie/Wellard in spirit. :D Because you'd like that.
14. ...Why don't we talk any more? You know, I think you must be away, and that when you went I was either being a) oblivious or b) offline, because I don't remember, and I should. I just checked your LJ, though, and it doesn't say anything about you being away. In that case, *flail* where are youuuuu? We haven't finished spamming yet. I happen to adore you, and I wish I knew more about love so I could say something intelligent to you about it when you talk about it. Luisa is better at that than I am, and I think you're close friends, which makes me very happy. You're good for each other, I think, although that's rather presumptuous. I love the things you think about and say, I love when you're poetical without realising it, and I love that you're also capable of being entirely ridiculous. In addition to which, I have a list of a dozen other things you've said that I want to put into poems, and I will someday, too. Just wait. Also, come back soon and tell me where you are. ;_;
15. Peter Lorre is the most gorgeous man on earth. I'm glad you're intelligent enough to realise this, too. :D
That took two hours and a bit. It got very difficult in places, but I think it's all right. *pats it hopefully*
Now I must send Miss Kylee a rainbow letter, and go shopping with Mum and Waen. We are going to have an enormous grocery trip in preparation for going away. ^__^ I'm excited. I love shopping for groceries.
This is filched from
metaphora: 'tis the 'Pick Fifteen People and Say Something About Them and Make Them Guess' Meme.1. You're the person I love best, although it's quite platonic love. It's very difficult to find a way to tell you this, because I'm very good at telling people that I love them but not at making them realise how much I mean it. I admire you so much. I've always admired you, I think, but it seems to get stronger the longer I know you. You're one of the most amazing writers I've ever known, and you don't pick just every character to write about--but the ones you do pick are always ones you seem to understand or to be so well. You're also a wonderful person. I don't know if you know how surprisingly gentle you can be, or how much I feel as though I've gotten a gift when you are to me. You've a wonderful snarky sense of humour, and you talk very intelligently about fandomy things, which I like a lot. I'm always a tiny bit afraid when I'm talking with you, because I'd like you to like me always, and I don't want to say something that will bother you. I rather want you to approve of me, I think. Also I wish I could be more use when you're troubled, but I always seem to be struck rather senseless when it comes to saying something helpful, although I don't have that trouble so often with other people. I worry about not making you happy. All the same, I'm often most happy when I'm talking with you, and I love you so, so much.
2. You are beautiful and sweet and hysterical and I love you madly, even though half the time I couldn't say why. I have my flist colour-coded, and you're white on black, which is just right because it's like little glittery white stars (they are, you know) in the sky in the middle of the night when it's cool and still and dark. I like that. I like you. I wish I could make you happy oftener, but I also think you're growing up more and more every time you write and think about the things that make you sad or upset or things. You're elegant and you're mad insane by turns. This sounds patronising, but it's not meant to. I think some day you're going to be so happy.
3. You've made me braver, I think. It's been very good to know you. Your colour on my flist is sandy brown with red, which when I first did it jarred me a little and made me wonder why I chose it, but now I couldn't imagine any other colours. I think you are one of the neatest, easiest, most comfortably awesome people I've ever known, even when you're denying it firmly. You have a wonderful truthful way of capturing real feelings in your writing even when your mechanics don't work, which always makes them jump out and feel real, and I always remember them. Your silly writing is just fun, like eating flavoured ice in the summer. You're funny and I can't ever think about you without smiling, and you're the closest thing I've had online to a real best friend, the way I'd always wanted someone to be.
4. I have the biggest. damn. crush on you. Like a schoolgirl. I fall in and out of love all the time, but I invariably realise I've always loved you steadily, and I feel like singing and laughing and twirling in circles when you write to me or talk to me or comment on my posts or write with me. You understand everything so well. I can describe any feeling, with words or colours or music, or any other incoherent symbolic silliness that is in my mind, and you understand. I have told you so many times what I think of your writing that I don't think it's the most important thing I could put here, but I do love it. I love how any character always feels safe with you. I love the way you describe things to me, because I can always see them. I love how nothing would make me happier than to have you hug me realio trulio right there in person, but it's all right if that doesn't happen. Also I think you must be the most beautiful person I know. I always believe that you're not afraid of anything, which isn't true, but you're so brave. You're so good. And you make me want to sing and laugh and twirl in circles under I fall down, and make me feel bubbly and excited and joyful inside. As I said, biggest. damn. crush. ^___^
5. I was rather frightened of you when I first met you, and actually I still am. You seem so sophisticated, even in your sadness, always in your entries, and at the same time a little drawn-back. I like you! I do, and I'd like you to like me, but I'm still rather terrified. You're also terribly pretty, and everybody seems to like you and is so friendly with you that it makes me shy.
6. You are brilliant, you know. You just undermine it a lot, which sometimes makes it hard to see at once. But you are. You make talented things that make me so impressed and delighted. I have a very hard time putting you into words, because you're rather remarkable and I always classify you in icons, which is bad and I ought not do. But. Let's see if I can come up with a good way of describing you, or at least talking about you. You know, first of all, you're one of the most human people I know. Your journal always feels like a real world, sometimes moreso than number three (I think this is because you update oftener). I like to hear about it. I like to know what's going on. You always know so much about what is happening in the world, instead of in the squeeful little LJ world. I have been inundating myself with DF lately, and your journal is another place entirely, a place it's good to go. And--no, I'm not going to be able to do this. I can tell already. All right, things I really like about you: Your rants. Your posts. Your icons. Your geekeries. The fact that you like Jules Verne, the fact that you talk about thinks matter-of-factly, that you introduced me to the joyous madness of Notre-Dame de Paris. (This tells you who you are, right there. :D Ha.) You are never, you know, ever going to end up in a cardboard box in New York. You're too talented for that. You may not be a world-famous composer someday, but anything you compose will be good and people will listen to it. And, well, if you do think you're going to end up in cardboard box, call me. You can live with me and my strawberry plants, and I'll make strawberry pies and never click my pens.
7. I can't begin to describe the way I love the way you talk. I love the way you talk. I love the way your characters talk. You write everything (mind that I don't mean everything ever comes out the same, only that you have the same goodness in everything) with an openness, with a clarity, which a bizarre, mad, clever sense of humour, with a beautiful, soft sweetness, with a tentative joy, with a serious anger or bitterness or sadness. Everything you write, I suppose I could say, feels honest. That's not quite right, though. Everything you write makes me so glad I read it. Everything you write makes me wish you'd written even more. Also, I can't help it, I've fallen in love with every character you play. I don't mind. (Sometimes I do.) I like you very much, and I want you to love me as much as I love you. I like it when you talk to me, and I used to be jealous when you talked to somebody else--I'm not that way now, but I still feel rather delighted when you talk to me, and am still horribly nervous about IMing you, because I don't want to annoy you and I'm so demn scared that I shall. You seem to approve of my and my antiquity, so if I ever send you a smiley or use some noticeably modern slang, I feel like cringing and as though I've done something that means I'll have to wait nervously until you send back and don't seem to be bothered. I'm very shy of you, which I suppose is an aftereffect of being smitten with you at one point. I want so much for you to like me, and no matter how much you say you don't hate me, I still feel I need to ask you as often as possible. If it's any help at all, you're not the first person to whom I've behaved this way. I hope you won't hate me after reading this. ^^;;;; I think you need to smack me gently and insist that you are not going to turn on me the next second and tell me you never want to speak to me again. Er. Unless this is the case.
8. I wish I could fix the world for you. If I could I'd do it in a split-second. I wish I could offer an explanation of things for you, or be able to solve the problems you write about. I wish I could make everything all right, I wish I could offer advice that honestly helped, I wish there was more I could do than my lopsided empathy. In addition to this, you make me laugh, I feel comfortable with you, I love to talk to you, and I wish to heaven you spoke louder, because you have such a lovely voice. :D I love you very much.
9. I think you don't really think as little of yourself as you say you do, but I'm not sure. You're my personal favourite enigma, and I wish you didn't live so far away, because I'd like to send you letters in coloured markers. I love the way you draw! Just in a squeeful, delighted way, because it's pretty and funny and I never expect it. I love the way you write! Because it's beautiful, and you think of things that I've never thought of, and you use a style that's like Douglas Adams writing with Virginia Woolf's ideas. Things are broken-lined and only attach to one another in the oddest, barest ways, but they're so beautiful. And if you haven't read Orlando, I shall hound you until you do. Aside from this, I don't stand in awe of you but I don't feel absolutely your equal. I would like to understand you better sometimes, and sometimes not. I feel safe with you. And cinnamon. And Yggdrasil. And I think you don't really think as little of yourself as you say you do, but I'm not sure, so I shall tell you anyway how beautiful you are.
10. Had I a beautiful world to give you...! I want to reach out and touch you sometimes, but I'm not sure how. Everything you do seems as though I'm looking at it through a pretty clear glass window, because I can't help or I can't smile enough. Your poetry is magic, although you don't believe it. Some day I want you to be perfectly happy, and I want you to love yourself. I wish somebody would make you happy. I don't know whether I can (I don't think I can, because I don't understand you well enough), but I wish to heaven somebody would. I believe that you deserve it.
11. You make me laugh, you make me happy, you make me rampantly silly. You are a lovely person, but perhaps you're shy? Sometimes I think so, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I think you just like to be quiet, like Molly. You read innocent books and love innocent things, but I don't think that means that you're childish, or even so innocent, although I think perhaps you are partly. I don't comment on your livejournal as much as I'd like, but we play comment tag often enough. I don't quite know what to say about you, except that you're another person with whom I feel perfectly safe, as much so as with number three. It's a slightly different kind of safe, but it still exists. It's a slightly less real kind of safe, as in playing with reality. But that makes it sound rather bad, and it's not. It's good. I'm very glad I know you. I want you to have a good life, but I'm also fairly confident that you will. You are a good person.
12. I'm a little frightened of you still, because you're so amazing and smokey-grey and lavender, which I've probably told you before, and so secret and soft and like smoke in trees before a storm, which is a good thing, but so secret and secretly beautiful that I am a little frightened of you still. Also I think I offended you the first time we met. Nevertheless, I'm so excited when you talk to me and I like it when you like something of mine. There's so much of yours that I like, too.
13. I miiiiiss you! But I still pray often as I remember (because I am regrettably forgetful) that you will be the happiest girl in the world, because you deserve it so, and although I haven't heard from you in months and months and months, I hope that you are happy. ^_^ And you are always my big sister. Also I send you Archie/Wellard in spirit. :D Because you'd like that.
14. ...Why don't we talk any more? You know, I think you must be away, and that when you went I was either being a) oblivious or b) offline, because I don't remember, and I should. I just checked your LJ, though, and it doesn't say anything about you being away. In that case, *flail* where are youuuuu? We haven't finished spamming yet. I happen to adore you, and I wish I knew more about love so I could say something intelligent to you about it when you talk about it. Luisa is better at that than I am, and I think you're close friends, which makes me very happy. You're good for each other, I think, although that's rather presumptuous. I love the things you think about and say, I love when you're poetical without realising it, and I love that you're also capable of being entirely ridiculous. In addition to which, I have a list of a dozen other things you've said that I want to put into poems, and I will someday, too. Just wait. Also, come back soon and tell me where you are. ;_;
15. Peter Lorre is the most gorgeous man on earth. I'm glad you're intelligent enough to realise this, too. :D
That took two hours and a bit. It got very difficult in places, but I think it's all right. *pats it hopefully*
Now I must send Miss Kylee a rainbow letter, and go shopping with Mum and Waen. We are going to have an enormous grocery trip in preparation for going away. ^__^ I'm excited. I love shopping for groceries.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-11 10:19 pm (UTC)I may have to do this meme now.
If I am on here, then I have a guess. And I shall try. ^_~
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-12 12:37 am (UTC)Oh, do. It's rather nice.
You're here. I put something in especially for you, so I think you'll know.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-12 12:59 am (UTC)I'd have such a terrible time keeping it anonymous.
Oh, I really don't know... Ohdearisiteight?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-12 01:01 am (UTC)I couldn't all the time. Erin's perfectly obviously hers, as is Fish's. And Lydia's. So.
Yep. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-12 01:07 am (UTC)*laughs* This is true. I will do it, then, and anonymity shall suffer.
Excellent. I shall try to speak louder for you, my dear.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-12 01:40 am (UTC)You make such sacrifices for me, mon ange!