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These started out as writing mixes when [livejournal.com profile] thassalia  and I were working on Frog in a Blender, and at the point where I had a spreadsheet for these things, I figured putting them onto 8tracks was probably a better idea...

 

Self-definition for self-burned spies - track list

Season of the Witch - Lou Rawls
Watching him watch her becomes a small game, another exercise to keep her hand in.

A Better Version of Me - Fiona Apple
She runs through her own repetitions, crafting identities, job applications, a door-to-door in-home survey of all the humans she could have been and still could be.

Ice Age - How to Destroy Angels
It rocked her back, because she was never really a ballerina but she had trained hard, had risen up on her toes until they broke and bled.

Red Right Ankle - The Decemberists
He sits on the floor in front of her, still careful not to loom, as if she could have gotten anywhere if she were susceptible to looming.

Rise Up With Fists - Jenny Lewis with The Watson Twins
He has alluded to Triggers and the Things That Help to others before, fending off questions, providing just enough information, but he’s never laid the whole eclectic list out for anyone before…

I Wish I Knew - Nina Simone
Can it really be called choice when all your options are bad, or when the only thing on the table is a chance of survival?

Doll Parts - Hole
Seeing Natasha turn herself off so effortlessly, become so completely someone she’s fabricated–perhaps on the walk over–that it seems there’s no fourth wall to even break…it gives him a sense of just how hard she’s been working to stay present in herself with him.

True, Part III - Concrete Blonde
Natasha sinks down onto her knees, a supplicant on the edge of the expensive handwoven carpet,and looks up into the woman’s eyes. “I know who I am,” she turns Madame’s hand and presses a kiss of fealty, “and where I belong.”

Me, I’m Not - Nine Inch Nails
Natasha is awash in hotel rooms and train stations, her hands full of steering wheels and silk ties and the familiar Hogue grip of her Glock, the meaty scent of blood and the smoky vapor of bourbon…

Fortunate Son - Catey Shaw
“I build more than I break.” Natasha looks up into her eyes, willing her to understand, “I renovate.”


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handypolymath

Shitty First Drafts



19675 / 80000 words. 25% done!

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