Meanwhile everyone has gone soccer mad. Seriously nanas.
So, my lame-arse weekend. Told you about the lack of water, net and the fanwank. Didn't tell you I was supposed to go out on Saturday night to see a band but I was feeling so abused, tired and fed up, for once in my life I just stayed home. I normally never do that, so there's a fair bit of shame to be wrestled with there.
However I did have some good, old fashioned Chinese takeaway and the 50s version of Quatermass and the Pit, which was a corker. I'd heard that the Quatermass series were classics, but I just thought that was because they were old and groundbreaking, but no, gentle reader, they are actually bloody brilliant. Certainly the current PTB over at Doctor Who think so, as they strip mine every videoed second of the series.
I think it says a lot about tv now that I was completely startled at how grown up it was, how courting of controversy, how it ballsed up to ask and try to answer the hard questions. Real grownup Sci Fi. So grown up you just could not screen Quatermass and the Pit to middle America these days. They'd burn the studio down. It was that cool.
The only real trouble was trying not to groan at things now beyond cliche they've been ripped off the poor show so often and so long (a bit like trying to watch bits of The Matrix these days without guffawing), or teasing atthe occassional 50s attitude (the always easily susceptible woman, fer instance) or the FX which still hold up, but the spaceship, which looked more like a, ahem, personal massager than anything else. With Smarties. Big Smarties. In fact not just the story, the whole set design pre-dates yet defines the template for Doctor Who. It was Doctor Who 101. Required reading, even.
And, the cheeky sods, they should have been made to cite it in the end credits of The Satan Pit, but never mind, it was fun to watch them side by side. And you know what? 50s SF stomped all over the callow 21st boy. So totally. Quatermass rules. Why have I never seen this before? (Btw, Quatermass and Roney sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G and if you think I'm kidding, fast forward to the scene in the bar where Roney is grabbing at Quatermass who is moaning and exclaiming that it's growing stronger and stronger, and, well, I'd YouTube it for you if I had the bandwidth. Words fail. I nearly snorted my fried rice through my nose).
Btw, I didn't mind the Doctor Who two parter I prefer them. I find the single episodes too rushed. Aside from all the running around and panto exposition, I find that I have to spend at least 2-3 episodes with a character so that I care if they die or not, otherwise they're just a red shirt. But I digress.
There was also Burt Kwuok in The Saint, really bad new Avengers and a worse episode of The Sweeney. Think the Sweeney never cough up a stinker? Think again. Worst. Episode. Ever.
(And that's without the diplomatic relations baiting ethnic stereotypes).
Sunday was weird. I dreamt about a friend I'd not spoken to in months and a couple of hours later they were sipping tea out of my best china. Discussed marmalade, of all things (no wonder I'm way down on their to do list - grin).
How now brown cow: I are still grumpy over the whole Absorbalof thang. No, not the episode, although Buffy, and even the X Files, did it better, but the slightly more real life Absorbalof thang (if you can call a virtual fanwank real, but if they prick me, do I not bleed?).
I knew it would happen, I just didn't know I was mere hours away from detonation. One minute I was happy and playing daft games with my LOM friends, the next thing I know some creatures wade in, start throwing their weight around demanding this and that and suck all the fun out of it.
elfinessy had it right when she said they weren't even writers/contributors. They never are. No one who has ever meekly offered up their child of words could say such things. I doubt they even have human parts. To dismiss the fic archive, six months of love's labours, so cruelly, so coldly, as though it were a commodity, a row of beans in a supermarket, mere product for their appetites and not the hard and heartfelt work and dearest dreams of real people, well, it beggars belief.
I'm just so upset and hurt, not just for myself, but for everyone else, as well. It was a community, and if the fic was slighty dorky or had that slightly homemade clumsy look to it, well, either be charmed by the quaintness or go elsewhere, but do not overturn tables, smash plates and stamp feet. That's just bad manners. I feel like the bystander at a picnic in a 70s cop show that's just been overrun by a motorcycle gang. I feel shattered and bruised and somewhat run over (this is what I get for stepping into oncoming traffic).
Now I really can't write without second guessing myself, without imagining some wizened harpie sitting on my shoulder nagging at me. Would Gene say that? Would Sam do that? No longer serving the characters or the story, I am now tied up in knots trying to please the very sort of people who will most probably never be pleased (and I have enough of those at home and work, ta very much).
It's just ruined. They've pissed on my cake, and it took so long to bake it and I'll never have that recipe again, etc etc. Not that they could ever understand that. We're just fic factories, bovine slaves churning it out for their consumption, lest we be punished, aren't we? I bet it never even touches the sides. I bet they eat in chain resturants. I bet they never, ever try the specials.
I am really quite stalled on the fic. If I take the comments on board, will it ruin it? It will certainly change it. Personally, I think Sam is somewhat high maitenance and damaged goods, and sooner or later the fact that his friendship with Gene is largely built on lies of omission will bring it unstuck, but that's just me and my clumsy wee fic.
Ah well, at least nobody's telling me the correct way to watch Blackpool. Thank frell. What would I do without my singing and dancing David? Play in traffic, undoubtedly.
And at least this weekend was useful in stripping away the last of my pride and instructive in my inadequacy and mediocricity because when that project was snatched away from me again, I just didn't care. Just give me the drudge work. At least I know my limitations now.
Unlike other folks. From the sounds of the drunken caterwauling drifting in over the balcony (gotta love a building with a balcony) the young men of the city are already well away for tonight's game.
Quatermass and the Pit
The Satan Pit
Love & Monsters
Billie in battle for café culture
Billie quits Doctor Who
YouTube - The Gambler--Blackpool 2--Just David Tennant
David Tennant plays DI Carlisle
Damon to boldly go where Shatner's been
Joss says Buffy TV movies are dead
Weakest Sweeney Episode
How gay is Superman?
Jonathan Rhys Meyers Wants to Be Gay
THE CENTURY THAT MADE US
Aaron Spelling, Prolific Television Producer, Dies at 83
World Premiere of "Superman Returns" - Red Carpet
Ancient web spins evolution story
Superheroes: The power list
The Wind That Shakes the Barley
The Wind That Shakes the Barley
Lights, camera, bonza!
Intent on a big change (Noth)
Bana to play Henry VIII
Truly, madly, Depply
For Kevin Smith, the View From the Convenience Store Is Still Askew
Last night's TV
No sex please, robot, just clean the floor
Tim Minear: Breaking the Story
Joss Whedon: The Master at Play