This was an actual chapter title, and it caused much convulsive tittering. The actual prose was a tad more innocent, but not by much, wicked Bertie.
Feeling a little Kafkaesque today. It's not the throwing up, barely being able to breathe or my hair falling out in handfuls. These I take to be just symptoms of my malise.
I mean, I love my view and my quiet time in the morning, the on the sly early morning scanning and writing for folks who never acknowledge my efforts, but my co-workers suck, office politics suck and the bits of my job that I enjoyed and was good at have been given to temps and contractors, leaving me with stuff I'm not trained for, have no experience in, completely suck at and loathe with a cancerous passion. So they've pretty much sucked out any joy I might have taken from my day and left me with shrivelled, bitter husks.
Add to this a crumbling house with a now five year backlog of jobs I just never get around to, even without sleeping these days, and you have one miserable life.
Sigh. Oh well, think of the good stuff. No boss so if I get inspired at 2.17 pm today there'll be no one hovering over my shoulder to distract me with pointless questions and endless errands until the thought has thoroughly flown before I've had a chance to jot it down. I hate that.
On the plus side there is the friend who is watching the same show I am at the same time (though I often miss half of it cause I'm working) and we get to email each other after it and discuss that night's episode. Nothing special? Well, yeah, it is. I never get to discuss last night's show with my overseas (or even interstate) friends because we're often one to even six seasons behind, and if you try, you get these terse replies about them being so over that show, or that character died and that plot went nowhere. I'm never normally allowed the luxury of frequent and lengthy discussions and dissections of the episodes, examining every detail with more care than the show is really due, but I don't care. It's fun. It's the bright spot of my day. It gets me thinking, and that can't be a bad thing, can it?
Okay, don't answer that.
What am I reading? Still struggling through my Jeeves omnibus. Not that it's a struggle. Frankly, it's a joy to read. It's just that my mystery ailment laid waste to half my IQ so I struggle to read now, whereas before I could zoom through a book or three a night, if I so chose. It's deeply frustrating and upsetting. Doesn't help that I'm constantly interrupted, or that my room is too dark to read, too hot to put a light on and I'm getting too old to hang upside down off the end of the bed trying to angle my book to the window which never gets any light - a mighty engineering feat - and squint. This last admission hurts most (I've read all the classics upside down, btw).
I could hide down the bottom of the garden, but that means being plagued by all manner of fauna and flora and being bitten by every insect known to man and several as yet not described to science. A tad distracting, that (well, you see how well the narrative flows when you're being bit and stung every two minutes).
So I retreated indoors and indulged in Pirates on dvd once more. I can feel a fic struggling to get out, but it has yet to burst through the door, thump its fist down on the table and exclaim "Now look here," in a firm voice, thus capturing my attention.
No, its feebly muttering to itself in low whispers behind a locked door and there's nothing I can find to poke at it to dislodge the beast.
Never mind, I've a thousand fics in various stages of assembly that require and are owed my due attention.
Even if I did write Pirates, horrors, it wouldn't be OTP, because I feel Norrington has a soft spot for Jack Sparrow, and vice versa, and, well, I've got stacks of languishing Jack Davenport slash piled up anyways (Ultraviolet, Ripley, etc). Poor Jack D. is definitely on my to do list, somehow, someday. For someone so pompous and proper (pretending I've never seen Coupling or This Life), he can look so damn wounded at times. Especially in the deleted scenes. Awwwww.
I also watched the first episode of Six Feet Under on Arena. Why I do this to myself I'll never know, but fortunately only a few scenes twanged that old grief chord, and for the most part I could enjoy it and watch it properly, like a sensible person (I'm afraid the first few episodes of 6FU and S5 BTVS have the power to distress me with rather too resonant scenes and thus make objective viewing impossible).
Oh yes, there was also Smallville. EvilChannelNine were up to their old tricks with the axe, and it wasn't much of an episode. The girls dump Clark but Lex sems to have dumped Clark as well. This is what Clark gets for being emotionally unavailable, distant and generally unreliable. If I was being constantly blown off (and not in a good way) I'd be giving him the broom after a year or so, too. The episode also featured one of those annoying brats from some American sitcom in a double role so it had the nasty stink of Olsen twins ickiness to it.
Save me from American sitcom brats. Never mind asylum seekers, sitcom brats are the ones who need to be locked up in concentration camps. Go on, try and defend the indefensible. Sucky episode, entirely slash free, unless one subscribes to the Clark/Pete camp, in which case there was plenty.
Stargate offered up Window of Opportunity, aka the Groundhog Day episode. Poor Daniel. Twice, twice he openly and blantly flirts with Jack and gives Jack permission to do anything, absolutely anything, and all Jack can do is Carter, and give her lusty looks in front of Daniel, making Daniel pout. Bad Jack.
Something has happened to make Jack push Daniel away.
I don't think it was always this way. In the pilot Jack is obviously fond of Daniel, and his gruffness is just his way of teasing Daniel. Later he starts getting snippy and keeping Daniel in line, though Daniel is still very obviously ferociously attached to Jack (Brief Candle, the one where they end up in Antartica, etc).
Somehow, the closer Daniel gets, the more Jack pushes him away, and it's overt and public by season 4. Maybe Jack's worried about his career, maybe Jack's worried Daniel's disobedience will get them all killed, maybe Jack is deeply screwed up over caring for someone that much again. I mean, there does seem to be an emotional line Jack just won't cross.
Jack also plays his emotions close to his chest. His real emotions, not just his day to day moods. After Daniel died in S6 he quietly grieved for months. He was just starting to sound like his old self when Daniel came back (hence my in progress fic aboout Jack being almost over Daniel when suddenly he has Daniel back in his life, churning him up like a washing machine).
But as to why he rejects Daniel, for Sam, well, there's a wealth of fic ideas. Running scared? Don't ask, don't tell? Was Daniel getting too close? Was he? Was Jack unwilling to open up to Daniel, preferring to flirt wth Carter which he knows will go nowhere. Is the Carter thing just Jack's way of blowing smoke, but he forgot to tell Daniel? Is he hoping Daniel will take the hint? Does he really want Daniel gone? Or does he just want to slow down a bit?
We'll never know because it's just a dumb cale tv show and I'm twisting over subtext that simply isn't there, or intended. Or am I?
Dalziel and Pascoe seemed to round out the week thematically, featuring a coffin washed ashore at Whitby in the presence of a large black dog (it was the Dracula episode on Buffy on Thursday) and then had an ex-Stasi agent found slumped dead over an Enigma machine. I was tickled, and again, how very, very Department S of them (yes, dipped into the DS box again, glorious stuff).
Did you know Captain James Cook and Count Dracula both have Whitby in common? It amuses. It's probably why I know Whitby by sight, without the need of captions or exposition. These are the champagne episodes of D&P.
Alas, slept through Touching Evil and there was no Wire in the Blood. I am Robson deprived (or depraved, either applies).