So if you've gotten something bounced from my mail, or if you haven't gotten an answer and thought you should have, it's probably because I haven't gotten it on either front. markgritter has fixed my regular e-mail issues, except -- N.B., rysmiel and other smartasses -- you can't use anything you want at-sign marissalingen.com any more, it has to be mris for the username. (Bah.) (But even those were bouncing for awhile; please re-send.)
Gmail's response was wholly inadequate: "Oh, this problem only lasts a few minutes, please try again." No, jerkfaces, it's lasted nearly 36 hours at this point. And yes, I've cleared cookies set by them, so it's not just that I'm getting an error message that no longer applies.
In other news of Things Gone Awry, they're making a Dark Is Rising movie, and they made Will Stanton an American. Whether they set the whole thing here or made him an expat over there, it's just plain wrong. This is as bad as invading Jesse and Leslie's privacy by showing us Terabithia. It is Not Okay.
Also, in my bleary half-awake state, I misread the clock and did not try to force myself back to sleep, with the result that I was awake at 5:30, which is utterly inadequate amounts of sleep, rather than 6:30, which might have done. And I'm too hungry to go back to bed. And I just used the last of the Nutella. Harumphharumph.
I didn't hear a harumph from that guy.
Okay, people. Your cheering-Mris assignment, should you choose to accept it: tell me of musicians or authors (or just one, that's fine) who integrated themselves seamlessly into your mental landscape. You know when you first listened to or read them, you just can't make yourself feel like they were ever not a part of your life. This came into my head because I was thinking about making my dad some more mix CDs, since he seemed to like the ones I made him at Christmas, and I was thinking of the playlists I composed for the drive back from California. (Not used, as it turned out: the U-Haul had no CD player, and timprov did his own selections in the car -- he was still able to drive then.) I had to think hard several times to remind myself that the "Iowa" on the playlist was by John Linnell, not Dar Williams, because Dar is a musician who feels like she has been part of our blood and bones around here. But I can remember very clearly listening to my first Dar song: Jon Truitt brought "Christians and Pagans" in for us to listen to when he was in town for the holidays in 2003, after we'd moved home. (Dad, of course, can have both. But that's not the point.) Who feels permanent like that to you but clearly isn't?