sdljgfnsd'nkf · 11:33pm Mar 9th, 2015
The computer repair people had to order a new keyboard for me and the first one that the center sent got lost in the mail somehow, and they told me it'd be ready maybe tomorrow. You know, after the second of the deadlines I set for myself.
I am now in writing withdrawal and have died of it several times, for which I apologize; the geyser of blood is always spectacular, but god, have you ever had to replace a ceiling? Give me my [birdnoises]erizing laptop.
Anyway, here's the best thing I wrote, from before season three.
You go into your kitchen and find--what's this?--a little wooden matryoshka doll on your counter, sitting there like a bowling pin's squat, fat, kindly old grandmother from the old country.The dolls inside don't rattle or shift when you pick up the toy, and it's heavy, made of some dense, dark wood. It's beautifully painted, with a delicately expressed sarafan and a face what feels like the most magnetically and infectiously cheerful smile you've ever seen.
The seam of the doll is hidden carefully in the pattern of the dress, and there's a slight suction of air when you open it. The next doll is lovely, and clearly they were both handpainted, because little details in the dress and face differ. The smaller doll is hardly less heavy than the first.
The smaller doll of course has an even smaller doll inside. Ah, again, the face is different. As is the next doll. How many dolls does this thing have? Of course, since the dolls are getting smaller, the painter had to paint with a smaller surface area, so the dolls' smiles are more simplified and essentialized as the smile is painted on smaller and smaller countenances, which means, unfortunately, something is lost in the translation. How many dolls was that? You haven't found the smallest one, because this one here has a seam that twists open, and, really, it's hardly less heavy than the first doll.
This continues, and it's beginning to get a little silly. It occurs to you that, to anyone opening a set of matryoshka dolls, the effect of each doll after the first three or so can only have diminishing returns. It also bothers you that the expressions of the dolls really are becoming less and less jolly; you have the top half of the largest doll beside you, keeping you company, and its sweet face isn't much like the one you've opened just now. In fact this face is almost grotesque; if you had seen this face first, you would have wondered if it was smiling or cringing. And, aha, the next doll's face is worse. Not worse in craft--it's expertly rendered--but nothing like any smile you've ever seen. How many dolls is that? This doll is heavy too, almost as heavy as the first, and it has a seam as well. Why is it heavy? Is the smallest doll made of lead? But the weight is distributed too evenly.
Two dolls later, the faces are getting a little unsettling. This is not a smile, but something like the beginning of a wail--and this doll has a seam. The next doll's mouth is open, and paint between the doll's lips is matte black. The next doll is the same, but moreso and weeping. How many dolls is that? You want to put this toy down, but you haven't reached the smallest doll, and the one in your hands is hardly less heavy that the first.
You reach a doll the size of your thumbnail, and it has an expression of such extreme grief and misery that you can't look it in the eye. It has a seam, and it's heavy, but you can't open it because you can't bear to see the next face. how many dolls are there left? What does the last doll look like? You really don't want to know. The only question you're interested in at this point is what to do with them. Who put this thing on your counter, anyway?
You have a large collection of doll shells laid out in front of you now. You look back at the largest doll, with its sweet smile. It's laying on its back now--and from this vantage you can see a shape carved into the inside. You pick it up to have a look, in spite of yourself.
It's the letter "M". The second doll has an "Y". Your hands shaking, you examine the inside of each doll and, arranged in order, together their insides say MY LITTLE PONY SEASON 3 IS GOING TO SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
You go to your bedroom to pack some clothes. You can't live here anymore.
Terrifying.