![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Lady Agnew
Apr. 22nd, 2006
02:17 am - SGA recs: drugs version
compiled a list of stoned!fic for SGA, and saving it here for safe-keeping. And in my world, stoned druggie fics also mean "alien aphrodisiacs made them do it" fics. Yes.
My favorite, b/c HOT! Red Silks by eliade, pretty much reason number ONE that alien-drugs-made-them-do-it fics count. Inflorescence is nothing to *hee* sneeze at.
Good for what ails you by giddygeek. Also, erm, allergy relief counts right? right.
Cakes and Ale my mirabile_dictu, small druggy part, but the rest is gravy. (note: not real gravy-related. sadly)
Confabulation by Pares. hee. This one makes me giddy and happy and Rodney! he is so Rodney-ish!
Medicinal Herbs by spikedluv. dude, lookit the title.
Aiden Ford's Bad Day by torakowski. Shep is stoned, but in his defense, the aliens made him do it.
Forward Momentum by kageygirl... drugs lead to circle jerk leads to SEX!
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do by amireal. Rodney, high, tactile and deciding to break up with John -- John is unaware they are dating.
neither death, nor exile, nor pain by mirabile_dictu. The rave fic; touchy, water-warm fic that edges so sweetly into near-orgy territory. Comforting.
Be Cool by HTH, essentially the queen mother of these stories. Pitch perfect high-as-a-kite!John.
Apr. 21st, 2006
03:49 am
OK, the anniversary of the big earthquake of 1906 was a few days ago, but I had to make a mention with my favorite article from the local paper (sf chronicle):
The Great Quake: Risk of Quakes Adds Spice to Life
There probably has not been a San Franciscan since 1906 who hasn't been asked, "Aren't you frightened? How can you live in place that's going to fall into the ocean one of these days?"
I was 10 in 1989 when the Loma Prieta earthquake (also known as the World Series quake) hit. I'll never forget it; it was one of the most frightening and exhilarating events of my life, and while no one I knew was hurt or much affected by it, it was tangibly, fantastically scary. Most small earthquakes are barely more than tremblors, like a big truck rattling your house, while the big one was... jerky. I've never felt the ground jerk under me like that, side to side, almost violent enough to prevent a person from walking upright. It was like the giant hand of God reached down, got a good grip on the sides of the house and just shook us for all we were worth. I'm lucky I didn't turn out an adrenaline junky b/c while I was scared out of my wits, it was also immensely and deeply exciting.
As for the risk, these are 2 things I tell myself:
1.) risk is a part of every day life, and I'm much more likely to wrap my car around a pole or (oh dear) another car and I would sooner give up driving than living in the city.
2.) if the city gets destroyed, it'll be all of us together. No advance warning, no hurricane alerts, no fleeing of the city for everybody but the poor and disabled: we're all going down together. And the most seismically vulnerable part of the city is the Marina, where all the rich, white yuppies live. It's a gorgeous place, out by the harbor, hilly and dotted with greens, beautiful old houses and charming commercial areas and built on about a ton of sand and silt. It suffered the most damage in 1989, and people rebuilt and the houses are worth millions of dollars, and there is a bite of strange irony there. We won't be another Katrina.
Apr. 16th, 2006
10:43 pm - recs: His Majesty's Dragon, Global Frequency
I've been away for... wow, months and months. *pets blog* I've been more lax than usual, but really, this is what any journal of mine, online or paper, should expect: neglect alternated with furious activity, signifying nothing. Every time I've had the vague impulse to update or write something amusing/relevant/witty, it's died a premature death from ennui.
I'm good at ennui; I'm excellent at ennui.
recs:
Book You Should Be Reading RIGHT NOW: Naomi Novik's His Majesty's Dragon. Even if you aren't a fan of Patrick O'Brien (and the Napoleonic Wars) or Anne McCaffrey (though this time the dragons are not telepathic), you will love this book. It's like a little jewel in my hands, all the facets polished to perfection, and I can't perceive any flaws. Great prose, beautiful action (seriously wonderful battle scenes), heaps of historical details and authentic atmosphere and the warmest, sweetest emotional relationship at the center of it all, between a man and his dragon. Such an immensely satisfying read, and better yet, there's more coming down the pipeline! The sequel, Throne of Jade is due out later this month, April 25 (eee! can't wait) and the third book comes out in May. So rocking.
TV Show You Should Be Watching RIGHT NOW: Global Frequency, based on the Warren Ellis comic. I like the comic fine -- I'm a huge slut for Ellis, but prefer Planetary and Transmetropolitan -- but it works even better as a TV serial. Only one episode was made, the pilot, and the WB (STUPIDLY) did not pick it up, but I fell in love after downloading it via *mutter mutter*. Now I know bitterness, that this show that really deserved a chance -- hell, a fistful of chances -- never got a one. What makes it special in my eyes is a quality it shares with the LotR movies, only on a smaller, more realistic, less epic scale. LotR was about passionately fighting for the side of Good (with a capital "G") with one's whole heart and believing in the cause of mankind. The movie's goal was unabashedly noble, and because it didn't flinch from pouring every ounce of intent and emotion into its goal and didn't once wink in the direction of irony, it's stirring and genuinely moving. And so is Global Frequency: the whole premise is of a top-secret, non-governmental organization of people dedicated to saving humanity from itself, and done entirely without self-consciousness or irony, and so, so passionately. It's not a half-hearted save-the-world story, it has belief. Really worth the time tracking it down.
![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/blah.gif){kind=small}
lazyJan. 30th, 2006
03:51 pm - happy Chinese New Year! a day late
Happy Lunar New Year, to all those who celebrate the holiday (like me!) or don't. The first day of the New Year was yesterday, Sunday, so it's now officially the Year of the Dog, which means a bunch of things:
* if you are young and unmarried, you get money from all your relatives in little red envelopes -- it's like they're bribing you to stay single!
* you should have done things you wanted your new year to be filled with, i.e. there should be no shopping or going to work, unless that's your idea of the ideal day. Traditionally, it means staying at home, wearing all new clothes, eating food that you had no hand in preparing (no work!) and hanging out with your family peacefully. Apparently the ancient Chinese ideal of the perfect day is to be a lazybones hermit, which totally meshes with my thoroughly modern ideal.
* you should not have done any of the following superstitious customs: washed your hair or cleaned at all (rinsing and sweeping away your luck), raised your voice (anger will draw bad luck) or, um... OK, I actually don't remember much about the many superstitions about attracting bad spirits or bad luck because I don't listen to my mother that closely (who does?). I know there's something in there about not wearing your clothes backward or idly making a scissors work when you have nothing to cut... yeah, I know.
* you totally should not have (as I did) spent the evening ordering out for sushi with your sister and watching weird internet clips online (omigod, the tragedy that is R. Kelly's "rock opera", the last few episodes which contain -- I'm not kidding -- a midget who shits himself in terror and apparently has a huge penis -- not that the last two things are at all related!) and then scrambling awake at 7 in the morning, moaning and clutching my stomach in pain. I puked and moaned, repeat ad infinitum, struck down by food poisoning even though I love that sushi place with all my heart and haven't been affected like that in literally years; I haven't puked in about 2 years (a record now sadly broken) and I've never gotten ill from sushi ever before. I really hope I don't spend a majority of the new year vomiting and swearing at raw fish (mmm, raw fish, lovely and slippery, God I could never give you up).
So, to wrap up, yay for the new year, yay for little red envelopes of money and yay to sushi, because it's just about the best thing ever, even when it's making me throw up.
Jan. 21st, 2006
02:39 pm - reason #19,444,003 why I love the buffyverse and joss
hee. scifibrain.com lists the 12 slashiest couples of sf/f, and Spike/Angel make it to #3.
03) Angel/Spike (Buffy: The Vampire Slayer/Angel)
Opposite personalities? Check. Bitter rivals? Check. Feuding over a similar lover? Double check. High school angst? Triple check. What makes this couplet far more interesting than the ones lower on the list, is that even though Angel and Spike are bitter enemies, they still are almost always on the same side. Whether it’s season 2 of Buffy or season 5 of Angel, they always manage to join together for a gay ol’ time. These two would have been the best of friends if not for Drusilla or Buffy. And, the interesting thing about this couple—they’re the only one on the list to (canonically) have intercourse with one another.
and best yet, when the "canonically have intercourse with one another" line caused, er, debate on the whedonesque thread, joss posted:
Honestly, what's most fascinating is that every post here tells me more about the poster than about the subject matter. That's what makes fiction grand. I will say a few things:
1)When I called James "the best ingenue Angel ever had" I merely meant that there was enormous acting chemistry between them. After throwing different actresses up against David (sometimes literally) it was gratifying to find someone who brought out passion in David's performance that I'd never seen. I mean, look at Caveman vs Astronauts, for god's sake! David is off the charts hilarious. I learned early on to film those two in one-ers instead of regular coverage because their energy just kept increasing. Others have misinterpreted that quote before.
2)What may or may not have happened is entirely up to the viewer, that's what makes it art. Having said that, I know EXACTLY what happened and it's funny that I'm never going to tell anyone. But did no one see the obvious smoldering passion between the Blue Hand guys? MAN, did you guys miss the boat.
3)In my world, heroes bugger each other senseless. Not all of them, but more than you'd think, and probably not who you're thinking. But seriously, Anybody here care to tell Apollo and the Midnighter how a hero should behave? To their faces?
joss | January 20, 19:00 CET
The scenes and lines are from season 5 of A:tS, but the idea that Angel and Spike were Meant to Be is pure through the entire Buffyverse. Frankly, women were about the cause of 98% of both their troubles, and sticking to antagonistic, snarkastic sex with each other would've been a boon to not only themselves, but also the entire world. Simple formula, boys: less sex with Buffy = less fomenting of apocalyses.
Jan. 14th, 2006
03:49 am - review: Breakfast on Pluto
Go see Breakfast on Pluto. Now. It's not the best movie I've seen in a long time, but the one to make me the happiest. ( Read more... )
Jul. 20th, 2005
05:39 am - International Serenity trailer
How do I know that I'm a dork?
gee, I don't even need five spaces: I'm wildly excited that the International trailer for Serenity is online, available for download, feeling the celebration in my heart because it is bitching cool AND I'VE ALREADY SEEN THE MOVIE TWICE! I'm just excited that the movie finally has a trailer that does it justice, I guess: the action is smoother, the plot is vaguely (and temptingly!) sketched out without being too spoilery or too confused (the latter a problem I had with the U.S. trailer) and the dialogue is prominently on display in all its fine Jossian glory. The trailer captures the fact that this movie is an actiony, comedic & thrilling science fiction-type movie, whereas the first one looked like a very generic science fiction-y flick, in the order of Chronicles of Riddick or something (not to knock that movie to its admirers, of course).
The past week has been full of Firefly-related manna. ComicCon was this past weekend, and Joss and the crew did a panel. The international premiere of the movie has been set up for the Edinburgh Film Festival, where the first 2 screenings sold out so fast that 2 more were scheduled.
And Joss answered the question of what he wants people to take away from his work with this lovely and cockles-of-the-heart-warming answer: The one thing I would want an audience to take away from my work is that people who do not think they have strength in them do and that everybody has the ability and chance to be stronger and better and happier than the world seems ready to let them.
... I love Joss.
Jun. 9th, 2005
04:35 am - Serenity NOW!
yay! I'm awake at 4:30-something in the morning right now waiting for the thrid round of Serenity screenings to drop for San Francisco. I was at the May 5th screening, but went with my sister (a non-fan), and now I wish to take my two pet converts with me. This is very... stressful. Not so much the early hours -- that's something I'm far too used to, but the stress of sitting at the comp with every nerve and sense straining to buy movie tickets that may disappear within minutes (so not kidding -- the sell out rate is phenomenal, as you can buy as many tixs as you want, and scalpers -- SCALPERS! -- have been a problem). This sort of attenuated tension is not conducive to peace of mind.
Tomorrow I have to get up at a decent time and go to my cousin's graduation, which I will not miss for the geek-tastic reason of Well, I was too busy sitting at the computer getting tickets to assuage my Whedon-fixation... That will not cut it in the real world.
At least I have this handy thing: URLy Warning (google it, too tired to link), which checks a webpage for you every minute or so, and warns you (with a loud KLAXON sound that is startling to say the least) when the page changes. I might be pathetically in love with it if Joss Whedon hadn't stolen away my heart. (Imaginary name of a country song: He stole my heart only to wipe his filthy boots on it, and now I die of a dirty heart.)
I get loopy when it's late at night and I'm supposed to be asleep. I also know that Serenity is worth it.
Jan. 27th, 2005
03:57 am - Jonesing for sugar and brilliant quality slash -- i.e. wallowing in my vices
I'm so desperate for something sweet that I'm eating cough drops for the sugar. I've denuded the house of everything else -- I ate like three fudge pops yesterday in one sitting, not sucking them but biting them down (because they were the bad kind of pops, the kind you get at the grocery instead of from the ice cream cart, tasting of chocolatey bitterness and grit rather than the clear, smooth, iciness of the fudgcicles of my youth). The cough drops taste like citrus and sugar and are, ironically, making me cough by drying out my throat of natural, healthy phlegm. Yet--can't--stop--eating.
2 tiny recs for shalott's House stories, Pathogenesis and Intervention and Maryland. I don't watch the show, despite my love of all things Hugh Laurie (I even skimmed his novel in the library once!), but these stories are great reads even without any knowledge of the show. I think I like "Pathogenesis" better because it's not a love story in the conventional sense, which "Maryland" is -- though the writing lifts the latter from any hint of conventionality. They're the best things I've read in the past week, though admittedly not much strong competition there; I've spent the past week (and maybe, um, more) reading emotionally overwrought, sex-soaked, epic-length CLex fics of dubious quality for no particular reason. Sometimes you just want bad, American processed cheese, I guess.
Dec. 26th, 2004
05:03 am - family, yuletide slash
Hm, it's a good time of the year to remember that family can be crazy-making, though the essay is mostly about adoption angst, it captures the claustrophobic nature of familial bonds. You don't want to relate to these people and their emotional drama and yet at the same time you see pieces of yourself in them. And I grew up with a happy family life w/ my bio parents.
So tired but not sleepy yet. From the little time I've spent exploring yuletide stories,
Wanted: One Hero, At Any Cost, Spiderman, movie-verse for painful Harry Osborn voice. God, the voice of perfectly turned obsession revs my motor anyday.
Happily Ever After because it's a sweet, sexy, funny Once a Thief story in a world much bereft of them.
My favorite so far is The Consolation of Philosophy, Swordspoint, despite its wobbly Richard characterization (the hardest thing to capture, ever) and being slightly over-written, packs a wollop of an emotional punch. My need to nitpick flaws is one sure sign that I think it's brilliant.
Dec. 25th, 2004
06:14 am - Merry Christmas!
Ahh, Christmas.
I never know what to do this day. Don't have family traditions and never really bothered to set any up. Perhaps will see my cousins, dinner with friends or see a movie. Closer is perhaps the most inappropriate movie to see on Xmas day but I persevere in the face of custom.
Um, I've been reading/watching things... in no particular order.
Wings of the Dove, by Henry James. I love James, but sometimes I wonder if he didn't go off the deep end with his last three novels. It took me about two months to get through The Ambassadors, imbibing little snippets every day because reading his giddily convoluted prose in large chunks will fuck you up. I read about half a chapter a day, and it's going... well? The prose style is so strange and subtle, and trying to get to the meaning is like reading the future in a cloud of vapors. Frustrating but what pretty vapors. It helps to read aloud really difficult passages (I've read that he didn't write these last novels, but dictated them) and there are some startlingly beautiful rewards. I'm half reading because I'm forcing myself forward and half because he has such interesting things to say about people and money, and the ways in which money is dearer than blood. He finesses greed, unlike a lot of people he doesn't dismiss it as this crude thing to be sneered at, but just another way to worm into the consciousness of people's innate humanity. He's not ashamed of greed. And I love that his characters have a glowing core of inner life; they don't really reveal it to the world (of the reader), but they're fully fleshed and blooded inside where I can't see.
Astonishing X-Men, trade ppb, by Joss Whedon and John Cassaday. A friend lent this to me yesterday and I think I'll need to read it again to nail down what I feel, but my initial impressions are mixed. The good: emotional character moments and interchanges, depth of characterization and some razor-sharp dialogue. The bad: muddy plot (could be b/c the arc is only midway completed) and the uncomfortable feel of Joss seemingly bending the characters to his Jossian standards. My favorite so far is the White Queen because she is so spectacularly her bitchy self, while I get the strange sense that Kitty Pryde (whom apparently Joss has major love for) is getting her character bent to some Jossian true. I will watch eagerly for the next trade though. I think it's the discomfort of sensing him try to conform to character guidelines that others have set up, not something he's particularly had experience with.
Though I did catch an episode of Roseanne that he wrote--the one where Darlene reads her poem at Culture Night, and I've always loved that poem.
To Whom It Concerns,
Darlene's work will be late,
It fell on her pancakes
And stuck to her plate.
To Whom It Concerns,
I lost my assignment,
Maybe I'll get lucky,
Solitary confinement.
To Whom It Concerns,
My mom made me write this,
But I'm just a kid,
So how could I fight this?
To Whom It Concerns,
Darlene's great with the ball,
But guys don't watch tomboys
When they're cruising the hall.
To Whom It Concerns,
I just turned thirteen,
Too short to be quarterback,
Too plain to be queen.
To Whom It Concerns,
I am not made of steel,
When I get blindsided,
My pain is quite real.
I don't mean to squawk,
But it really burns.
I just thought I'd mention it,
To Whom It Concerns.
The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King: Extended Edition. I've been looking forward to this forever (a year) and five minutes into the movie proper, they cut out one of my favorite moments (Sam and Frodo in the cave, where Frodo says "Oh Sam" with such fervor in his voice and shining eyes). The extended cut is not just footage added, but with stuff cut out and different takes, unlike the previous EEs. I don't know what to feel about this. Saruman's, however, death scene made me cackle for five minutes straight.
Dec. 17th, 2004
11:11 pm - Commercials
I don't have a Tivo, I don't need a Tivo (I have mad VCR programming skills and the subscription payment thing annoys me -- paying every month for service just rubs me the wrong way, though digital cable is a godsend from the heavens), and the only times I want a Tivo are when I'm struck by the massive inanity of commercials.
example:
-- the really sexist jewelry commercial that has a well-dressed (but not too well-dressed) man wandering down the street with a gift-wrapped jewelry box in his hand, causing all the long-legged, stunningly beautiful women up and down the street to eye him with moist-lipped longing. Yes, we women are all bitches for diamonds... greedy, greedy bitches willing to exchange sex for pretty sparklies. You think this really unsophisticated gender message would be seen for what it is by real-life men, but judging by the actual men of my acquaintance, not actually. Stop spreading this sexist shit, advertisers!
-- this one actually made me laugh: a razor commercial wherein two really attractive people, man & woman, go into a carwash with the top of their convertible down. Once they're inside and covered with suds, they start madly shaving -- the guy his face, the woman her legs, with her feet propped on the dash. I have to note that she has perfectly smooth and hairless legs -- there is no visual evidence of leg hair. In the rinse part of the wash, they start madly making out, standing up on their seats, rejoicing in their mutually hairless states... and come out of the carwash dry and gleaming, with hair and clothes impeccable, but realistically (which this commercial IS NOT) with wet and uncomfortable undies.
-- the one with Joyce looking alive and beautiful and exactly as she did on Buffy:tVS, shilling Advil. Oh Joyce. I just watched "The Body" -- or as much of it as I could stand -- this weekend, and this commercial is just wrong.
In actual fannish news, I'm going to Wondercon 2005 this year. It happens every year in the city, but this year Joss and the cast of Serenity are there Saturday, Feb 19th. I can't believe I will actually be in the same room breathing the same air as Joss Whedon. It's the second fannish event I'll have ever gone to, the first being Vulkon last August, where I learned that Danny Strong is actually adorably cute in real life (possibly because he was wearing eyeliner), that Tom Lenk has beautiful golden curls and a really good pout and no social skills at all and that Anthony Stewart Head giggles like a brainless schoolgirl. Constantly.
Dec. 11th, 2004
01:23 pm - Bored Now.
I feel quite sulky because I've run out of things to read (though No Darker Than Yours, Hideaway, A Warlike Prince and Roomies have kept me occupied for the past week or more) and somehow this seems like a personal and direct insult from the universe. I don't know why I'm obsessively reading Smallville recently -- from all reports, the show is sucking in all the ways something semi-good and semi-sweet can suck, the rift is looming in its shtoopid glory and the stories being written are increasingly bitter. Perhaps it's the increasing bitterness that's attracting me -- I can't resist a love affair that's doomed to crash and burn spectacularly, and I do admit that I have a deep weakness for futurefics that either resolve the conflict or exploit it for fireworks fueled by rage, lust and murderous intent.
I'm desperate to find something to read because finals are approaching and I've been stressing out for a solid month (since the last two weeks of November, when I had a 12 page paper due and not one iota of will to complete it), with about one more week of school to go. Three classes to finish, four assignments, and my mind as limp and energetic as a noodle. Sometimes I wonder how the hell my mind works; a few days ago I watched as a huge black crow played with something in the middle of the street and what came into my head was a Lecter bit from Silence of the Lambs, the book, where he muses about an ancient recipe to cook a crow fat with juniper berries in the late fall. I mean, what? This random throwing up of half-digested bits from movies, books, conversations or old research can't be normal -- other people don't do this, do they? In high school when I had to run ever week during gym, I'd train my mind to go far away as my body did this distasteful thing. My mind would be near-absent as I jogged around the school, air burning in my lungs with effort and the methol scent of eucalyptus leaves. I still associate the smell with running. My consciousness is the topsoil of the deep garden of my mind, and occasionally the soil gets overturned and tossed, throwing old bits of vegetation to the surface to wink in the sun before sinking down again gratefully into the damp murk below.
I need distraction. I'm bored now. Yesterday, my friend called, similarly bored, wanting to go clubbing (dress up, head down to the Castro, grind away a few hours in the sweatiest, loudest club we can find, don't drink) and I told him after my nap. I must have been more tired than I realized because I slept for four hours, woke groggy, too late and too something to move much. But I really really really reaaaaally wanted to go dancing. I haven't done anything fun for pure fun purposes in weeks and I'm bored. I don't want to read or sleep or do my work.
To conclude, still sulky.
Nov. 23rd, 2004
02:56 am - Firefly movie "Serenity" release date moved to Sept. 30
According to Joss, the studio has moved the release of the movie from April 22, 2005 to September 30th.
Okay. Don't panic. right now you're panicking. you're thinking, "how could they do this to me?" But what you SHOULD be thinking is: "How could they do this to JOSS?". Seriously. That pity is mine and I want it back.
So what happened? Well, nothing terribly original. April got crowded with a lot of titles aimed at a similar demographic, and the studio decided September was a clearer corridor for the film to make the kind of impact it should. This isn't about a lack of confidence in the film -- in fact, they told me this before they even saw it. And now they have seen it, and unless they're way better liars than I'm used to, they dug it. Actually, they dug it pretty large, which is a good sign since there's not a single finished effect in the film. There's no reworking the end, no reshoots, no "does it have to be in space?". It's just a marketing issue. Now you'll get to watch lots of trailers in the summer. And hopefully, by the time it comes out, other people, people who ain't us, will get a whiff of what we're up to, and come along too.
I love this movie. I HATE waiting to show it too you. I felt pretty much the way I imagine you're feeling right now when they told me. But these guys know what they're doing, and they're trying to protect their investment, not bury it. So I gotta be a grown-up. The release date is September 30th. Hopefully it won't change again.
God, it's going to be forever. Nearly a year away, and Sept. 2005 is around the time the fourth season of the show would've been starting had FOX (bastards!!) not cancelled it. We'd be getting into the third season right now, as it is. It's strange this announcement happened now -- I've been watching the ComicCon movie pre-trailer all this weekend, at least 9, 10 times, feeling hyped and hopeful, and even a little bit OK with the show being gone. The trailer has some amazing footage, with everything looking vast and dirty and rough and real, almost like what the show was meant to be, when it grew up. I was getting excited with the movie not just as a replacement prize for a TV show lost, but as it's own endlessly enthralling entity, and now the release date is pushed back five months. It's disheartening.
I loved last Sunday's Arrested Development, and Desperate Housewives and The O.C. are very cool, shiny entertainment -- I'm looking very much forward to Monk and The Dead Zone coming back in January -- and yet I'm dry, dry fan. No more Lord of the Rings, no more Buffy or even Angel, and Firefly is a stillborn perfection that I won't taste any of again for more than ten months. It's disheartening.
Nov. 21st, 2004
01:45 am - eye junk
Sometimes your eyes are gross. I was outside in the wind earlier and even with my hair whipping around (mental note to self: get haircut!) and my eyelids lowered, half-closed, crap flew into my eyes. I just rubbed my eyes and blinked and forgot about it – it didn’t hurt or anything. Five hours later, at home, after a nap, I rub my eyes again and a little wooden splinter comes off on my hand, covered in that eye jelly that dries up to become sleep sand. The splinter was huge – even thinking of it being lodged in my flesh, much less my eyeball, gives me shivers – and pointy. The disturbing thing is that it had been there the whole time and I didn’t know about it, or feel it, while my body’s defenses were dealing with it.
Today, I watched School of Rock (fabulously charming movie that had me smiling like a self-conscious idiot, and the best rock ‘n roll ending, like, EVER), went to the library, procrastinated on my paper and obsessively trying to find decent-ish Smallville slash to read that I’ve never read before. Also feeling nostalgic about Firefly -- April seems a long, long time away.
Nov. 7th, 2004
10:03 am - How I Spent My Saturday Night...
One snapshot of me last night:
I'm suffering a raging cold, wearing my comfy moss green over-large sweater that looks like cats have clawed it for fun and games, wandering through the Castro with friends and sister, clutching Stitch (stuffed animal friend!) to my chest, refusing the cookies my friends bought (a once in a lifetime event because I never refuse sweets but my throat cannot handle choccy right now) and perusing gay X-rated Christmas cards. I never thought I'd see an erection (a huge one too! like the size of a banana on steroid) on a card celebrating the holidays, but everybody celebrates in their own fashion, I suppose.
The card and ornament store ("Does Your Mother Know") was right next to Badlands, funnest dancing club ever, but I threatened mayhem and phlegm to squash even the faintest idea of going in. Why do my friends never feel up for sweaty dancing when I'm healthy, unstressed, un-homeworked and not dressed in my comfortable sweater?!?
Nov. 4th, 2004
05:14 am - Well... Fuck.
I could say I'm heartsick right now (I am). I could say I'm going to try to give up caring and when the country goes down the toilet I won't jeer a little, "ha ha, told you so" (I probably won't). And I could give into my disgust (tempting...) or just pull the blanket over my head and wish the world would go away and leave me alone (not like I haven't tried already), but I won't.
The problem with me is that I'm too cynical. Though I've been at the mercy of public schools at the mercy of teachers who try to cram that civics bullshit down your throat (ooh, I'm a little touchy, but doesn't it amuse you to think back on your grade school history lessons and realize how white-washed it all was? how lovely that they made it nice and clean for your little innocent ears?) I'm deeply cynical about the democratic process. I know the rationale is that it's superior to aristocracy, monarchy, oligarcy, socialism, and etc. but democracy, like every other form of government the world's ever invented, is a crap shoot. After all, good things arise from monarchy as well as democracy and the only, uncomplicated good of democracy, to my mind, is the ease of succession. The passing of power from one person to the next is tricky, and it's one thing that Americans have historically excelled at. Look at some of the nastier civil wars to have affected other nations: kings fighting against a pretender to the throne, or a military general staging a coup to overthrow the dictator-elect. Since Washington's shiny example (the Founding Fathers wanted to declare him king before wiser heads, including his own, prevailed), America has been good at passing power along the proper lines without bloodshed or violence. The Civil War was an entirely different case -- it wasn't about a competing faction fighting for control of the country so much as a disenfranchised and overlooked part of the country seceding and declaring itself an independednt nation, which can happen to the best of people.
The innate nature of popular democracy never inspired me. It's why yesterday was the first time I voted. I think maybe I am a natural contrarian, but the popular choice has rarely been my choice. Titanic is the highest grossing movie ever (not in real dollars -- that's Gone with the Wind, interestingly enough -- but not adjusted for inflation) and I hate that movie with the fire of a thousand burning suns. I know, my argument is flaky because on the one hand: movies, on the other: fate of the free world. Surely Americans would make their choice for President with more care and backed up with more forethought and research than than the decision to see a movie at the local multiplex... and you would be somewhat wrong. I don't doubt there are people out there who are entirely free of ideological bent, who research on the issues and make their choice from the brains, after careful consideration, and not from their gut. I'm sure these people exist. These perfect voters... the problem is they only compose a miniscule fraction of the voting public.
An anecdote about Adlai Stevenson, a big-brained liberal, that's very much on point today: a man came up to him after a speech and congratulated him on a job well done. "You're surely going to get all the intelligent voters on election day." Adlai replied, "That's nice, but it's the other 95% I'm worried about."
I actually don't think the electorate is dumb, just disintested in doing the work to be a well-informed citizenry, one of the necessary ingredients to a healthy democracy. People vote for candidates for a variety reasons: perceived sexuality, mental health, sincerity, abilities, smarts, niceness, etc. I was researching a poli sci paper about the primary campaigns, and I came across a very depressing academic paper about how people voted on the flimsiest reasons, justifying that their perceptions about a candidate revealed something of the core of the man they wanted to lead the country. Like niceness. I like niceness. I revel in it everyday in my friends and family, and figure it's a good reciprocal quality to possess. But does niceness make a good CEO? A good general? Does the ability to drink beer and make easy jokes equate to leadership skills? Hell, does marital fidelity? It's when these marginal factors that are equated with what makes a man a good leader, or a great leader, and are the entire basis for choosing a President that makes me (correctly) despair for the fate of the nation.
And yet. I do believe America will survive. I'm even selfish enough to believe and care that I won't be affected overly much by what will transpire in the next four years. I believe that the people who voted for Bush aren't stupid or ignorant, and chose him based on misconceptions he's disseminated -- that he's a moral leader, that he's not a liar, that he'll be tough on terrorism and will work for the country's benefit. I believe that I enjoy voting and exercising my civic rights and that one day I'll live to see a great President in action. Maybe I'll even vote for him.
In other news, my sister gathered a cupful of hail this afternoon and now it's melted into clear water. I have the distant urge to taste it.
Oct. 26th, 2004
06:10 am - school
The most hellish thing about classes this year is the amount of writing that's being squeezed out of me; I don't mind the reading, but I'm drowning in distaste for my own writing. And doing all this literary analysis has really brought home something that had only vaguely occurred to me before: analysing something to a T quite kills the enjoyment of it. Not entirely -- I'm reaming Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest apart right now, and nothing could really collapse this souflee of a comedy, but knowing the mechanisms underneath and guessing at the authorial intention on top doesn't for better reading. Amusement, enjoyment, pleasure don't require understanding. Or at least I don't.
Back to the mines, now.
Oct. 23rd, 2004
03:08 am - Lost
It's interesting to see the potential explosion of a new fandom, particularly, as in this case as I'm talking about Lost, I have no intention or desire to get into it. Zip, zero, nada. I'm so not JJ Abrams fangirl, ain't gonna budge.
I could never watch Alias because I literally cannot stand Jennifer Garner's acting. I'm serious here: I make screwed-up, 'this sucks!' faces when I see her. I've seen and borne crappier actors, but there's just something about her emotional presence that I can't stand. She tries to damn hard to convey emotions, like she's OVER-PRONOUNCING her emotions to a highly deaf person. It's unbearable -- it's not semaphore, honey, it's a crying scene. But beyond that the whole show seemed as inauthentic as its lead actress. I'm unsure how to express this, but all I've ever read about the show implies that it's a show about spies that has many unrealistic elements and lots of melodrama in the form of duplicitous friends, family, lovers and unrequited love affairs. It's a shiny spy soap opera with wigs and things.
The thing I could never stand about soaps, the one summer when I was thirteen and bored and watching, was the meaningless of the actions. Yeah, the writing and acting were uniformly bad, but what was worse was that nothing ever meant anything. The people did terrible things to each other, smiling and bitchy and crazed, and it was all for show. Lady X made Lady Y lose her baby so as to whip up a bit of melodrama for entertainment -- and nothing ever showed that Lady Y was much of a human being beyond her surface, so her mourning and threats of revenge were for show too. Everything everyone did had plot consequences, but no human ones. I need that in any fiction I consume (except maybe for the more extreme forms of comedy, though I'll argue any day that a comedy without understanding of humanity will never be funny, and parody and maybe satire) is truth in characterization. I need the characters to be real in a way that goes beyond the Hollywood fiction. Realism of the interior, I call it.
That's why Abrams has never appealed to me: I just never believe his characters are human except in the surface way. I tried to watch Felicity, but despite some good acting and writing, nothing ever seemed to matter. There was something essential missing; all the (angsting) emotions were for show. This is why I'm skipping out on Lost as well, even though everybody else seems v. enthused and everything. Plus, well, there's the X-Files factor, the question of resolution. They've set up an intriguing situation and five+ seasons to resolve it. I'm dubious about how well resolution can be brought about when they have 100+ episodes to work out. It'd be different if the show were a miniseries, with a finite 6 hour arc -- that I could bear out. But the growth of fandom is always interesting, what with the influx of new writers and new work from suddenly-energized/inspired old favorites. It's exciting. I wonder how it's going to work out slash-wise.
I seem to watching less TV-as-TV nowadays. The only shows I'm sure to watch are Arrested Development and Desperate Housewives, and I'm sort of uncertain how long the latter can keep up its bitchy fun. The former, of course, is a work of demented genius. In January, Monk is starting up again even though (wah. sniff.) no more Bitty Schram as Sharona. Even more, I miss intensely and truly, all Jossian goodness from the schedule.
personal: I skipped class this morning, watched I [Heart] Huckabees (a great, strange, funny, screwball existential comedy of a movie) instead and am half-assedly trying to write a paper. More unfun than this it cannot get. Also have been experiencing a renaissance of feeling for SV, not the show (could never stand it, pale Buffy-shadow), and rereading all the good old favorites. Gosh, that Lex is sexy and messed-up, huh?
![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/tired.gif){kind=small}
tiredOct. 14th, 2004
06:15 am - a San Francisco moment
6:30 PM, dusk falling rapidly, I'm standing at the bus stop with my eyes trained at the point up the street where my bus would emerge if it ever emerges at all. I wouldn't be so impatient if the fog (of course) weren't rolling in and I wasn't starving. I'm so focused I don't pay any attention to the two girls talking a few feet away until one of them (facing me, looking over my shoulder) gasps. I turn and see a long-ish brown shape rooting through the underbrush next to the golf course... I think it's a weasel or a giant squirrel, but it turns out to be a beautifully mottled brown hawk with an enormous tail section, almost as long and wide as its body. It turns to look at us for a moment before giving up on us not being mesmerized by its every movement, for the bird is beautiful and not six feet away from me.
When it flies away, I note that the feeling that a predator evokes in a person is much different than something beautiful but essentially harmless evokes. Something about the way your skin prickles at the thought of claws tearing at you, your hair, the sharpness. The air of danger is something.
Navigate: (Previous 20 Entries | Next 20 Entries)