mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...


Now I know why I don't like being with people who are always putting me down, belittling me or being downright mean: it makes me grumpy and grizzly and leaves a black slime inside that I still can't expunge. I need to do something, or nothing (ie be zen) or burn a shitload of sage, or something, because I still feel twitchy and annoyed, like a cat rubbed up the wrong way, or miserable, like a dog whose been beaten, just to make some souless idiot feel good about themselves.

Happily I'm in the PMS zone so I can be pissy and grouchy and snitty and just point and the calender and (almost) get away with it.

It's sort of like those old pagan festivals where they used to wild for a night or a day without too many recriminations the next morning (cf A MidSummer Night's Dream). Sometimes I just need to blow off a little steam. Especially when I'm feeling aggrieved.

Fortunately I have great friends...okay, so just about all of them are online and therefore not actually real, yet they are better friends than some folk I've known, and, without even trying, they inspire me, make me laugh and amuse me.

Today I've read an inspirational tale, a damn good fic (why is it that I like my best friend's fic best, and I suspect I'd still love it if I read it blind) and some damn hot pics.

Actually, I'm supposed to be testing the CMS again and the only way I know how to do that, to really test it, is to create a real site on the test server. I was deeply, deeply inspired to create a Toga Boy site, but then thought perhaps it'd be better if I didn't put myself into a situation where I'd have to explain why there are pictures of pants-free men on the test server. Fortunately the server is kaput, thus removing powerful temptation from my hot sweaty hands.

What can I say? When I'm bored, fed up, cranky and crampy I tend to find evil occupations to amuse me. The more I try to be good, the more I need to blow off know, the way repressed and restricted folks just go nuts on occassion. It's always the quiet ones, you know.

So, anyways, last night I left at 5pm so it was still light and there were people and cars about. It was almost distressing in an agrophobic anxiety attack kinda way - I'm just not used to anything other than dark and deserted streets. Freaky.

Still, Mr Magpie showed up at the door for his bedtime crackers - twice, as I'd gotten home so early. Unfortunately I'd run out of the good crackers and he scolded me for it most stridently. I guess I can kiss my succulent garden goodbye then (I'm hoping to get home while it's still light so I can find some of them where they've been dropped but it is Friday so I've Buckleys).

I even managed to see the last half of Doctor Who. It was the Mind Robber. I love this story. It's the first Who I ever remember watching as a very, very small child and I only remember a fraction here or there, but remember it I do. Of course upon admitting this out loud Bro leapt up and cried that I must have some lost episodes buried somewhere in my brain, with the sort of insane zeal that made me think he was going to start digging for them with a spoon at that very moment. Yikes.

Fortunately I'm a hard nut to crack and I managed to watch the episode unbothered (except by magpies demanding snacks). You know, with the bookish Master (no, not THE Master, another one) and the fictional characters come to life in a zone outside reality, speaking only the lines they were given, well, watching, I wondered if perhaps Neil Gaiman hadn't seen it, too. Some parts, okay, lots of parts, were very, very Gaiman-esque. Hmmm.

In any case, seeing and loving these episode certainly explains why I fell on the Sandman comics with such a hunger later in life. All these weird little BBC shows I watched as a child just turned me into a Dreaming fan, without even knowing it. Cool.

Watched a bit of Charmed, which was dreadful (but I suppose it is impossible to find a bimbo who can act) and SVU, which was a big episode, and that was my night.

I think I just horrified a dear friend by admitting I was into Pirates (POTC) slash. Yes, I know it's writhing with teenaged Bloom fans, which is why I'nm desperate for a POTC rec site, but, well, it's got Jack Davenport in it, and I'm no stranger to Johnny Depp slash. Ahem, I'll probably upset everyone with that admission, she says, metaphorically kicking the pile of 21 Jump Street slash back into the wardrobe. Nothing to see here, move along, move long...

Oh, I also read last night that Paul Bettany was originally considered for the role of John Constantine. I still want Sean Bean, but I could happily, very happily be all gurgly and gooey over Paul as Conjob but no, they decided they needed a "name", they needed Keanu.


Oh the pain, the pain...

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