(no subject)

I just spent fifteen minutes filling out a Ford marketing research survey, as a favour to the cousin of my manager. (Plus I was promised $25.) Dear saints alive, are these advertising gigs machiavellian or what? "Gaze at this logo. Now tell us what subliminal messages this logo conveys to you." ...Actually I derived a disturbing amount of pleasure from the exercise. McLuhan Generation and all. "Yes, I'm a young, educated, relatively affluent urban female who looks at pictures of cars on the internet and knows how a rotary engine works. Bet you really want to hear what I think, DON'T YOU NOW?"

Lied through my teeth about my buying plans, though. I'm very conflicted about automobiles. I love them when they're beautiful, and hate them when they're ugly, and resent like hell the fact that all the people my age are desperate to own one, like lemmings hooked on gasoline. (The latter point is my rebellious dadaist coming to the fore. Like how I'd only want a cellphone if I could blog with it; how I refuse to write emails that couldn't be treeware correspondence; how I trust credit cards online far more than cheques through the mail; how I hate chairs because they're far off the ground and you have to sit alone. I have yet to encounter anyone who understands what I mean when I say I don't want chairs in my future apartment.) It's enough to make me declare that I hate driving and never want to own one of the things - which is not strictly speaking true - except then people assume it's because I'm a mechanics-onchi female. -_-; Bwar.

In conclusion, I hate being a lemming who jumps at any chance to paw the parental vehicle, and I hate being a girly-girl who avoids interacting with anything featuring an internal combustion engine. Above all else, I hate being a surburbanite who drives because it's what you do, and how else would you get anywhere? North American society, however, is not offering me a Door #4.

...I should move somewhere where people still ride water buffalo.

(One of those intellislash-type ramble-queries)

keieru de retour online notes (well, notes on her real blog) that lotrips has de facto exploded. And I blinked and went, "Huh. She's right, it has," because people keep reccing stuff that's been written, like, 36 hours previous. Rampant productivity of the type that depresses me, as I'm doomed to plod along at my own stolid pace no matter how enthusiastic I may feel. ^^;

Not to say that UML and its ilk have eaten my brain, but I think I need a boundary condition test suite for RPS. I used to have one for slash in general, comprised of ten or so questions of the "Does [foo] count as slash?" format, which I'd go around asking people. (Values of foo: OC/OC, f/f, fic written for a canon m/m pairing, yaoi dj, original june, m/f where one/both participants are canonically gay, RP/RP, etc. The typical answer to some of these changed as time passed, which is of course the interesting part.) The purpose was to obtain a definition by statistical consensus, and I would've done it too, if it weren't so obviously work designated for someone who's made it her proper field of study. *g* Anyone in need of a research project?

Anyhow I was thinking about this because I found a half-hour movie on my David Bowie disc, in the continuing tale of my DVD!wank (what is it that Golitzinsky says? "Shake once, that's hygiene. Shake twice - now you're just playing with it"), which was basically one of the PMVs extended to include storyline. And while watching it I thought in my boredom and depravity, "Would it count as RPS if I slashed this?"

...Which question went unanswered in and of itself, because Bowie was one of the people who invented popmusik meta, and he's three steps ahead of you. But still. If I wrote fic about one of Gackt's PMV scenarios, in which he's obviously not "himself" - supacat's done this - am I writing AU RPS or am I writing plain old slash for a 5-minute-long film? Does it depend on what names I use? My intent when I sit down at the keyboard? ...And it's more complicated than the slash test suite, because more telling than the question of Whether These Are Real People is the question, does this bother (or at least affect) you the same way as RPS normally would. One can't really dispute that Keats/Shelley is RPS, but does it honestly squick anyone to the same extent as (say) Damon/Affleck could? What if I wrote fic for The Osbournes? Popstars? What if I wrote fic in which nothing happened but Brian Molko meeting Tori Amos at a party?

Urr. Talk to me, people. XD