mind over chatter (tobiascharity) wrote in hotterthanplath,
mind over chatter

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because the air outside will make our cells divide at an alarming rate

I'm a mod. I should probably post my info. Oops.

Name: Tory.
Age: fifteen.
Current Location: Interlochen, Michigan, and Syracuse, New York.
Current Job: full-time student. pastry-chef-in-training during breaks. day camp counselor and Ren Faire cast member this coming summer.
Favorite Writers: Kurt Vonnegut, Douglas Adams, Neil Gaiman, and who could forget Michael Delp and Jack Driscoll?
Favorite Books: Oh, God. Um. ::squints:: Good Omens, the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Things They Carried, Cats Cradle...
Favorite Movies: Dogma, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Yeah, I lose.
Favorite Bands: The Postal Service, the Weakerthans, Rilo Kiley, OK Go, Death Cab for Cutie, the Violent Femmes, Ben Kweller.
Favorite Place: changes daily. today it was one of the piano rooms in Frolich.
Stupidest thing you did as a kid: Um. Convinced my younger brother that we could keep the "Christmas Spirit" alive by hauling our discarded Christmas tree up to the top of the swingset and sticking it there. It didn't come down until February because my parents thought it was hysterical, and Jake and I weren't tall enough to get it down on our own. How we got it up their, I'll never know.
What do you write (poetry, prose, plays, non-fic, whateverthefuck): Plays and short stories, mostly. I'm abhorrent at poetry.
Three things you want to do before you die: go to a concert of a band where I know every word of every song. ride as many roller coasters as possible. smoke a clove cigarette.
Favorite decade? the 20s, by far. Flappers with hip flasks tucked into their garters, gangsters in pinstrips and fedoras, speakeasies filled with smoke and jazz--what's not to love?
Favorite fashion statement? Haven't got a 'favorite,' really. I tend to dress pretty conservatively. Skirts and ripped jeans with fishnets showing through the holes. That's hot.
Fill in the blanks:

Let's rest high above the clouds to spend these hours five senses reeling and laugh about the weatherman's satellite eyes.
If I had a fire hydrant, I'd make an open-air ice skating rink.
That dude looks like a lady. (Yeah, bastardized Aerosmith. I kind of suck when it's three AM.)

What makes you different from the other people in this community? Um. I co-created it?
What's your best feature? Probably my eyes. I have no idea what color they are. I stick with "hazel" because it's easier than saying "grey-brown-blue-green."
What/who is the most important thing/person to you, and why? Laurenkitkeabridrewalextederica, because they are what keep me from toppling over that precarious edge every fucking day.
One wish and why: I wish for you to be free, genie! ::cough:: Damn Kea and her Disney movies.
What's your biggest accomplishment? Getting into Interlochen.
What's your life's dream? To write a book/play and be the guest on NPR's "Talk of the Nation." Yeah, I'm a dork.
To what three people/places have you promoted this community? On it shortly. Off I go...
Post up to 500 words of a writing sample BY YOU.: Fuck, you all know my writing. Oh well. The tail end of "Gateau."

Excerpt from Gateau

"It was nice to meet you," he said to them, and turned and left the room. Anne stared at the place where he'd been. Cathy set pillars on top of the supports and fit the pillar plate on top of them. Anne leaned back against the edge of the table and started tracing the edge of the bottom plate with her fingernail. Cathy set up the second and third layers, watching Anne drag her finger back and forth along the table. She'd just started setting the pillars and plate onto the third layer, when the cake suddenly shook minutely.

She looked down and saw Anne with her finger buried deep into the bottom layer of the cake. As she watched, Anne pulled her finger out, laden with icing, examined it, and then began to lick the icing off it.

"Anne--" Cathy started, but Anne jabbed her finger back into the cake.

"It's an ugly cake," she said, and sucked the icing off her finger.

Cathy set the top layer onto the pillar plate and leaned back against the table.

Anne repeated the process a few times: jab, pull out, lick, jab, pull out, lick. She smiled widely and dragged the side of her hand along the edge of the cake. A massive gob of icing came with it, crumbs clinging to its underside. She ate the icing off her hand. Cathy watched, and then pulled her finger through the third layer of the cake. The icing was sticky on her fingers, and bits of cake slowed the ripping. She put her finger into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. The icing clung to the roof of her mouth, and bits of cake got stuck to her gums. The sugary sweet taste made her stomach twist and knot.

Anne lifted the top layer of the cake off the plate and set it onto the table next to her. She pushed her hand on top of it, and Cathy watched as the cake mashed up between her fingers. She pulled her hand away and created a handprint-shaped mark in the remaining cake. She pushed the plate off the edge of the table, where it spun and rattled on the floor like a coin.

A slow smile spreading across her face, Cathy reached up and hit the bottom of the third layer's plate. The cake flipped off the pillars and onto the floor. Cathy put her foot on top of the plate, and then leaned all of her weight on it. Cake oozed out from beneath it. She stepped back and kicked the plate away. Cake was ground into the carpet. Anne did the same to the second layer, and then together they pushed the bottom cake to the floor. A pillar snapped beneath Cathy's foot.

Anne had to jump on top of the bottom layer to crush the cake, and when she stepped back cake was clinging to her boots and to the cuffs of her chef's whites. Cathy wiped her sticky hands onto her jacket, then looked at the mess on the floor and the table. Cake lay pulverized all over the place; crumbs were smashed into the carpet, and icing was spread on top of it. She started to snicker. Anne stared at her for a long moment, and then began laughing, a high snigger that made the muscles in her face convulse until suddenly she crumpled onto Cathy's shoulder, laughter occasionally breaking though her sobs.

With a choking sound, she snuffled and stood up, then brushed off her jacket and pushed the flyaway strands of hair away from her face. A smudge of icing was smeared over one cheekbone like poorly applied makeup. Cathy kicked away a chunk of cake and watched it tumble across the carpet.


Three pictures:

(okay I cheated and posted five. oh well.)
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