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Nov. 25th, 2007 08:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyQuestion answers. Not many people wanted to know stuff, so no need for a cut tag. :)
Are we still going to share a flat together and hug all the time?
Hell yes. Although I confess I have no idea how long I'll be living in England, dear...
When you die, do you want to be buried, cremated, or - like me - turned into fertilizer? Why?
I want to be cremated, although really I'd rather not die at all, if no one objects. The reason is that the idea of worms eating me freaked me out when I was wee - and there's also the thing where if people are going to remember me I'd rather they either remembered me or didn't. I'd rather they thought of me when they were laughing at surreal comedy on TV or when they saw how incredibly gay a new show was, rather than making a point of going to some particular place with one particular stone that has nothing to do with me anyway. But in case anyone's paying attention, for the record, I'd rather not die at all. :D
Oh, and I want my ashes scattered in Avebury.
Strawberry or raspberry?
Raspberry every time. It's more real.
What is that beautiful story that just showed up on your journal?
I have absolutely no idea at all. I felt rather as though I didn't want to exist, for the evening, so I projected that onto a character. I've done it before, nonsensical little snippets of stories, and I love it that people have responded well to this one; possibly I ought to consider whether or not there's anything more to be said.
I'm pretty sure that the narrator is Carstairs' cousin, actually. That's the odd thing. And it could therefore quite possibly end up being written at some point.
ETA: feel free to ask more questions, naturally. :D
Are we still going to share a flat together and hug all the time?
Hell yes. Although I confess I have no idea how long I'll be living in England, dear...
When you die, do you want to be buried, cremated, or - like me - turned into fertilizer? Why?
I want to be cremated, although really I'd rather not die at all, if no one objects. The reason is that the idea of worms eating me freaked me out when I was wee - and there's also the thing where if people are going to remember me I'd rather they either remembered me or didn't. I'd rather they thought of me when they were laughing at surreal comedy on TV or when they saw how incredibly gay a new show was, rather than making a point of going to some particular place with one particular stone that has nothing to do with me anyway. But in case anyone's paying attention, for the record, I'd rather not die at all. :D
Oh, and I want my ashes scattered in Avebury.
Strawberry or raspberry?
Raspberry every time. It's more real.
What is that beautiful story that just showed up on your journal?
I have absolutely no idea at all. I felt rather as though I didn't want to exist, for the evening, so I projected that onto a character. I've done it before, nonsensical little snippets of stories, and I love it that people have responded well to this one; possibly I ought to consider whether or not there's anything more to be said.
I'm pretty sure that the narrator is Carstairs' cousin, actually. That's the odd thing. And it could therefore quite possibly end up being written at some point.
ETA: feel free to ask more questions, naturally. :D
