Saturday: I was supposed to be doing yardwork this weekend. I'd cancelled films, shopping, luncheon dates, all because I was on yard duty. Only AP waits until it's too late to do anything else to tell me she's changed her mind and she doesn't want everything pruned, after all. Lucky escape for the trees, lucky escape for me. So now I'm at a loose end. Free time, even.
I could, or rather should, be turning my attention to the sty we call home, but sod that. I've not had a day off in months and months and months, not even to be sick. I'm taking a day.
Besides, I'm tired. I had a rough night with a really bad shake me out of my bed nightmare. After a few hours of wee hours tv to start breathing again, I'd settled down to a second, more lurid dream. So lurid I'd just love to use the more sensible bits for a really out there fic.
Mulling upon it, I began to recognise bits from several films in amongst the hodge podge of stuff I've done and stuff I want to do. I couldn't see the connection, until I started playing them. Each film shares a cast member, like a daisy chain. I'm bemused at the connections my poor muddled head can make. There's a whole imdb in there.
Still, bits would make for a curious fic, with the, ahem, unique way they were all chopped and squished together, like a subconscious bubble and squeak, emerging as a half baked narrative, making connections only my fevered, twisted brain could make. All very Gaiman. Too bad my fic can't capture the way I saw it. I mean, sure, I could give my fic the same enormous FX budget that my dream had, but I watch so many films I just don't see my fics as moving pictures, they've got all the conceits of the medium: wipes, fades, montages, whip pans, zooms, crane shots, overlays. That stuff is nigh impossible to translate into text. Pity. One of these days I'll be able to do a brain dump, then you'll see. That'd rock.
Also stuck in the bubbling putrid swampland that is my cerebellum is the entire library of incidental music from My Favourite Martian, not just the theme. I discovered this, to my horror. It went like this: I was watching Stargate and it was the one where Sam briefly has the cute alien secretly living with her in her house (poor SPF, wither thou film career?). Or not so secretly, as it turns out. Wackiness ensues. As in: "Abner! Abner! You won't believe what I just saw!"
Snort. Then I started humming the incidental music from My Favourite Martian, to go with my imagined sitcom. It scares me how that was just there, easily accessible, but all those classics I read at highscool, all that Dickens, Voltaire, the Brontes, not to mention all those Egyptian dynasties I once memorised - that's all gone. Ack. Grizzle.
Anyways, it gave me a giggle, Sam and the Stargate spinoff they should have made. They should have kept him alive. It would have made a great spinoff, Sam and her wacky alien housemate. Meanwhile Daniel's been bitten by an ancient Egyptian scarab and is now a superhero by night and Jack is being bothered by a small green cartoon alien only he can see and hear and Teal'c is busy solving crimes with a talking dog. Stargate spinoffs you never wanted to see. Heh.
I told you, my brain is seriously weird. I need to stay away from the allergy meds.
Monday: It's a good thing I'm never having children if this is the way I carry on while popping out a tiny, microscopic egg, but owie, owie, hurtie, hurtie. Grump and grizzle. My whole right side is very don't touch me there. Every pot hole the bus found this morning was an experience, and now I've just dropped my pen. Excuse me while I bite down on the screams.
Ouchie. Bastard kept me up all night, despite hot water bottles strapped fore and aft. So I ended up watching even more tv than I normaly do: Streets of San Francisco, X Files, Meet the Ancestors, though they just call it Ancestors these days, sounds more posh I suppose, NCIS (giving it another try but it's still not working for me) and Oz (which sans Keller is less interesting, but only by a smidge).
I'd actually meant to watch more dvds because I'd really enjoyed myself on Saturday and it was just too cold to sit out in the garden for too long without suffering from exposure and I felt too crap for the too many house chores that needed to be done (you know, where it's too much, too many, like a whole wall, and you just can't start). So I curled up but was very quickly interupted.
An old school friend dropped over and caught me with the fluff infested bed socks, watching Galactica on me lap top. Yep, I killed that whole nerd image stone dead. Ah well. Ran her off the disk of piccies she wanted, had tea and a chat and that was my afternoon. A pleasant diversion, but I never did get to see Galactica. I never even got so far as to see the Bamber. Ah well. By the time she left I was feeling even more warby, so it was scrambled eggs, Blackadder and bed.
Heh, if only Stephen Fry had played Wellington in Sharpe. It would have been sooooo much more entertaining. Giggle. Snort.
I still wonder at the sort of person who just take stuff out of a fridge that isn't theirs. I dunno, I'm just not wired that way (and if I ever do pick something up by mistake, or in the mistaken belief I have permission, I am clobbered so hard I bleed). I just don't get it. In other words, some mean nasty person has stole my milk and now I have to have luke warm milk free teas. Wail!
So it was a mercifully quiet day at work and I went home early and crawled into bed. Did not type up fic, did not download mail, did not watch dvds or read, or write. Heavens no. Nor did I vacuum, wash the dishes, cook or clean. I did watch tv though. Angel (the Wes as Angel one), Buffy, Family Guy, Chris Isaak Show (which was funny, fer once), Daisy on Arena, Operation Goodguys (yes, that episode, and if they ever make Pros the movie, Jonny is a shoe-in for Bodie, he has it down to a T) and the last bit of Oz, the first S2 episode.
Tuesday: I feel crappy, and I fear there will be snappy answers to stupid questions. At least everyone else was in late today, which allowed me some quality lukewarm tea time.
Finally: hot_darcy@ hotmail.com wants to send me porn. Heh.
This monster list was compiled from my flist, brit-actors@yahoogroups.com and my own humble efforts:
