Muse-o-rama - July 6th, 2006

Just before flying off to the soggy west coast, where I'll be darting about like a minnow in a pond -- Vic, Port Ren, Cow Bay, Van -- here's the latest Cirque blahdity blah blah. I'll be trying to write and post as I travel, depending on whether or not my parents have actually heard of the internet.

Note: All usual disclaimers apply. Just funnin’ wit cha.

Grovellings: to the betas, jmm001 and lemmypie, who make every sentence better.

Warnings: References to goings on in Scarecrow and Faith. Much bad language, internal monologues, irritations and misunderstandings, drinking, museum research, schoolgirls, contortionists, Céline Dion and her husband, and gratuitous het sex in unlikely locations. Brotherly angst by the bucketload, Written for the spn_north challenge.

STF: Following Sam’s nightmares of girls burning on a ceiling, bison falling off cliffs, and a diva-belted high note, the brothers head north, to Québec, where they find a Cirque du Soleil production of sheer evilness, La Céline and her minions from hell, and a casino. Oh, and Dean finds a contortionist. After getting Céline Dion to sing to his heartbeat. While Dean’s off getting laid, Sam’s trying to do research...

Chapters 1-2

( Chapter Three/Buffalo Jump )

Happy reading...and if I neglect the flist while I have limited access to all things cyber-y, it's not because you folks aren't being interesting enough.

Just seconds after I post Cirque de Céline 3 and what do I have to do?

Go to a meeting at le musée canadien des civilisations, that's what. Not unknown, for me, I work for those guys often enough. They're all hush-hush on the phone, big secret project they need my help with, hehehehe. I don't bother telling them that I've just written Sam having visions in the First Peoples Hall or anything like that. I know how to keep real life and fanlife separate.

So I'm in the meeting and they've got stacks of papers and exhibition floor plans and that kinda crap and I'm all, 'what's this about, guys?'

And they tell me -- oh, jesus, WAIT FOR IT -- they tell me I get to write about...Céline fucking Dion.

I don't think they said 'fucking', FYI

I am so trying not to freak on their asses (see above note about RL/FL), so I just keep going like everything's normal and such. But, really? The only way this gets weirder is if the exhibition also involves Lithuanian contortionists, bison, and beer. But it doesn't. So it's just mildly weird.

Off to holidays -- will ponder all things gloriously La Céline. Or drink myself into a stupor to forget.