Of course I could/should be typing up fic, but can't/won't. There's the small matter of the micromanager extraordinaire bustling in at any moment, and with only me here, that should be fun, tag I'm it. Then there's the sad fact that despite spending the whole weekend in bed frightfully offcolour, and listening sadly to the sounds of the rock concert across the river, which was misery compounding, imho, I barely wrote a thing.
The main problem is that, well, I'm starting not to like Sam. I almost hate him. Why? Because there's a large part of him that still believes it's all make believe, and it could well be, but he doesn't treat them as real people with feelings that can be hurt, nor does he care what he does to them or the trouble he gets them into, and that's a very unlikeable trait. Sam is often very selfish and ruthless in regards to others, and it's not really fair, considering how Gene has displayed a genuine fondness (and loyalty and protectiveness) for Sam, despite everything.
Then there's probably the whole Sam as avatar for unthinking twats thing. True, I did spent 2005 being terrorised up and down by selfish, unthinking and, at times, downright criminally evil gits, so I realise I'm probably working those issues out on paper. Also, some LOM fans are really giving me the pip. It does not help.
And lastly, I have effing painted myself into a tiny, airless corner with my latest fic and I'm not sure how Gene can get Sam out of trouble without revealing the, shall we say, short cuts and hard decisions Gene has had to make to rescue Sam. I'm pretty sure Sam wouldn't understand the wrong thing for the right reasons actions Gene has taken on his behalf. No, I think not. So I'm stuck on how Gene saves the day, without Sam ever finding out just how badly Gene had to cut some corners to do it.
Suggestions and advice, please. I think I'm sharing Gene's frustration at the certain knowledge that Sam can be so priggish at times, and so ungrateful of Gene's best efforts. Especially when such efforts are undertaken with great love and executed to the best of one's abilities. Oops, subtext rapidly becoming text again. Sorry about that. Spoilt, selfish twats that done us wrong, next on Springer. Can we help it that we're seen as beyond coarse, and why does it matter, when our heart is in the right place?
So there's that. I'd also rather be at home finding more embaressing things to cap. Oh, the things I've found lurking up the back of the collection. The things I've been shocked to find. The other night I clumsily stalked the giant black cockroach whose scrabblings were keeping me awake and I knocked over a stack of cds. I was bemused at what tumbled down ("Did someone have a Britpop phase?" snarked the peanut gallery) but what shocked me the most, aside from the cd of Bowie covers by Ian McCulloch and Midge Ure, etc, was a near pristine copy of the Human Traffic soundtrack. Now I would have sworn on a stack of US Army electrodes that I had no such cd in my possession, but there it was. So that whole Simm thing back then wasn't just a feverish nightmare afterall. There were a few other things as well, but this was the most incriminating. Must scan the booklet though - heh.
A further rummage brought down just about the bulk of Euston Films output, ditto Thames, and a fistful of bargin bin oddities, hence the screaming screencaps. A few more to go, if others don't beat me to the punch. Hey, it was fun. It's true what they say, dementia does make everyday like a birthday, as in when did I buy that???
Forgot to mention when I was at the show that I saw the tent-pegging, camp drafting, human cannonball, giant inflatable cow and an enormous pair of fuzzy dice that I coveted as a necessary prop on my first step to super-villaindom. If one thing sitting through upmteen hours of Brian Clemens has taught me, it is that to be truly evil one needs outsized props, and these would have been perfect. Alas, was sadly distracted by outre Life on Mars moment. Never mind.
Missed yestyerday's D&P (with bonus Waterman and Ingleby) as friends dropped over. It was a pleasant enough diversion, once I'd roused myself from being ick in the back garden. Well, at least my familiars, I mean tame birds, were happy to see me out and about. Sat around arguing who had the worst manager. I think we tied, despite many a tale of woe and horror. I don't know where they get them from, but if you ever want to bring a country to its knees, just employ these jokers. They are so wilfully incompetent I can only assume a sinister aspect to their machinations.
So that was yesterday. Watched two hours of Supernatural. Pretty boy candy, but rather underwhelmed by anything else. Forgot to watch Hotel Babylon, but caught last twenty mins or so anyway, thanks to EC9 being so lax with regard to programme schedules. Meant to watch the Roxburgh Holmes thing but, to my horror, they were playing some horrid 80s version instead, so bollocks to that. Tried to watch Six Feet Under but 11pm at night is just too late for loud, quirky, argumentative Yanks with big issues, at least as far as I'm concerned. No, at that hour I'd rather watch less caffinated folks, if it's all the same to you. At 8.30 pm, no problem, but that late, it's just too, well, noisy for a start. No, at that hour, that's when I'd like to reach for the tv mogadon of some dull as dishwater British tv detective, the sort who never drives above the speed limit, and as he patiently and ploddingly describes the rules of croquet to his young offsider, I can gently slide off into the land of nod.
PM update: Am having a Gene Hunt of a day. Am not happy. Everyone is determined to earn an honorary title that is suffixed with "-wit". Some of them are quite mean, actually, and I'm not of a mood to be belittled, demeaned or publicly rubbished today, thank you.
All I want to do is go home and watch either John or Phil, or John and Phil, or summat. I am bemused though that folks were surprised that John looked a bit disco diva when playing dear little Gaius. Well, of course he would, if nothing else than just to top John Hurt's screaming, scenery chewing turn in I Claudius, which Our John does, btw, imho. And Gaius was a somewhat notorious emperor and, well, imagine the competition, so he's something very special. Obviously these folks are neither Roman history whores, nor inspired enough to do what I had to do, which was bypass the santised, sexless version of Roman history I was being taught (can you imagine such a thing? Roman history sans sex and violence, no wonder we covered 600 years in six months) and head straight for the Suetonius, the tabloid version of Roman history, and don't I just love it.
I just love John in that entirely crap film. He's just so mad and bad. Deliciously wicked. I'm so glad I decided to fetch it out and play it. It was solely on a whim, as I emerged wanly from the loo and quoted "Don't go in there...", (cf cherry ripe ick factor), I suddenly had the desire to see the superior Gaius. And he is the baddest of them all. Wicked boy. Mmmm...
Life on Mars
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Fossils fill gap in human lineage
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