mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

stay frosty

Words to live by. Certainly words I've been cradling close to my heart all week (especially with all those meetings, one more to go, but so far, the wee Fick mantra is holding).

Yes, I finally got into Generation Kill. I'm only up to episode three, and I'm still having problems with the jargon jargon (American and military and American military) and then The Lovely Alexander twists the jargon jargon even further with those lovely Scandanavian vowels of his and I'm completely lost, even after replaying it three times. It's like jargon jargon jargon bork bork bork, but I don't mind because he's so damn pretty and soulful, in the face of unrelentling idiocy (and enemy fire).

That's one of the things I've noticed. The portayal of the military chain of command has not improved since the MASH days (and given the evidence, nor should it in any dramatisations). Sigh. Still, it's kinda cathartic (as much as it is horrifying) to see such fuckwittery not limited to the public service. Oh, the noble grace of wee Fick in the face of such fuckwits and fuckups that make up his elders and betters. I feel for him, I really do (at least my elders and betters don't kill, maim and destroy through their malignant idiocy, yet, anyway).

It's also, much like Oz (and to some extent, Top Gear, too), a scary insight into male culture, particularly American male culture, and that of the lower classes, that rarely gets a serious HBO airing (as opposed to sitcoms still stuck in the Honeymooners template). Scary, yet fascinating insight. I think perhaps the rednecks are painted too kindly (my gosh, have you seen what the Australian Infantry get up to?) but everyone gets their two cents worth so we'll allow, for dramatic purposes, that some rough edges have been obviously worn smooth and characters presented as far more loveable than the reality was, I bet.

I'm really quite into it now. In three episodes I have, indeed, taken those boys to my heart, especially bemused Evan, Ray (love his war on pussy theory), wee Fick and, of course, Brad. Dear brad, dour one moment, kinda creepy insanely cheerful the next. I kinda like it. Love his dry humour. Love the pretty. Lotsa pretty.

But the scene I hold close to my heart is the one where Brad hears himself being blamed for taking a wrong turn (so not, so following idiot orders) and Brad clcks his comm channel open, but wee Fick slowly shakes his head and Brad has to suck it up and let it go. Oh yeah, I feel for Brad in that moment, and I've being doing my best to suck it up and stay frosty ever since. Really, I have.

Okay, not so good with the sucking up this week. Rather explosive actually. Spent three days with my head in a bucket. Not fun. My fault, sorta. I felt I should show, not tell, why it would be better if I kept to my bed watching tv instead of doing the washing etc as promised. It was a hard sell, you must admit. So I started doing the washing and I know from experience it's the worst thing I can do when I'm about to go all mega cramps and I knew it'd be bad, but omg, it was a bad one and the sudden heat wave didn't help. Woe was me. Himself wanted to call an ambulance while I was curled up on the kitchen floor heaving and weeping and I was all don't be silly, I've done this every month since I was so high, but it's certainly made the list of Worst Ones Ever.

And it was such a lovely day. Started with The Saint, then I watched back an old Poirot (in between loads) and I was enjoying myself (mainly looking at the deco knick knacks). Then I wasn't. Worse, I had to go vote and walking up hill and down dale in the blazing sun just set me off again. I only stopped during Dr Who that night cause I had nowt left (it was a repeat of Blink. Still briliant).

Sunday. Ah, Sunday. Everything I could have wanted: wet, squally wet, so I didn't have to water the garden. So I stayed abed. Watched Becoming Jane because the D&P book I'd started had mentioned Jane, of all things, and I felt, yeah, why not. Pretty James. Pretty Laurence. Me, I don't think Mr W was all that horrible, and he seemed like a genuinely nice bloke, but that's just me, not quite so fussy these days (but still insisting on a modicum of employment, intelligence, sanity and hetrosexuality which rules out the local talent pool, apparently). Somewhat renewed my vapours for young Mr McAvoy, though. Oh my.

So I read my D&P some. I watched another episode of Gideon's Way (this featured Christopher Timothy as an extra in a crowd scene - I was certain he'd show up again but he never did, he really was just an extra).

Meant to watch Generation Kill that Sunday but my nerves were shot, I was unwell, and books and costume dramas seemed more the go. Nothing to rattle the tea cups too much. Finished off with Midsomer on Auntie, like the old nana I am.

Monday I'd booked as my RDO - thank frell. Slept in, watched back Messiah, which is finally playing out here. I'd not realised, or forgotten young Mr Draven was in it, and since I pretty much saw his nipples before I saw his face - yowza!. Thoroughly entertaining by the numbers Brit cop show. Keeping with the theme I caught up on the two Wire in the Bloods I'd missed. Just when I think Tony has dialled down the crazy he runs off on one of his rants, but it's fun to watch. Very inventively filmed, too (especially the cell scene with the eyeliner). It's really sick, but, well, shrug. Long past being squeamish after the weekend I'd had.

Hopped online and then I watched back Dr Who in the evening (love this new fangled watching tv when you want to business). It was all very Donna's Wonderful Life with a bit of Life On Mars thrown in (everything was from Donna's viewpoint), not to mention the old Gerry Anderson dream sequence episode where everything blows up, but whatever. Catherine put in a sterling performance, too bad Billie phoned in hers. It was okay, but I'm never a big fan of these arc stories, usually because they're always overblown and, well, not good. This was better than most and the au was interesting. Too bad neither Torchwood nor the Sarah Jane Adventures have screened here, so I'm going to have no idea during the x-over eps. Oh well.

And, not to speak ill of the missus of my favourite boy, but Billie ought to really lift her game. She looked really fed up to be there, acted like a stone, and I hear her latest series has tanked - are they surprised when they let it be widely known that they used body doubles? Did the poor child actually think people were watching it for the plot? Oh dear.

Donna is a marvellous character though (finally, they have someone like me in the Tardis, and the Peanut Gallery has to try not to laugh too loud or too hard over the painful similiarities). What can I say, it's fun to finally see someone ask the Doc is he daft or what when he needs it. Re-watched the library episode. It was even better the second time around. Not sure how the Doc got out of the handcuffs, but other than that, I really liked it. I liked the scary, scary spacemen, I liked the dream world conceits, I liked Donna, I even liked the shippiness.

That's pretty much it. Thanks so much for the Generation Kill. Not just good to watch, but instructive as well. Okay, I suppose I'm supposed to be taking away from it more than How to Deal With Morons in Authority 101, but that'll do me. That and the Swedish pretty.

But I know, you really want to know where I sit on the Colbert/Fick vs Brad/Ray lines. I'm afraid the jury is still out (and playing Sudoku) on that one. There's the deep respect for Fick, vs the homely charms and constant, chemically enhanced cheeriness of the Ray. Heh, I can see the solitary Colbert being wooed but choosing neither (because it would mess up this whole miserable stoic nordic vibe he's got going). But I am willing to be convinced, one way or the other (although I'm reminded by another friend that this is all technically rps so slight squick there).

Meanwhile, the hot water bottles and buckets have been put away for another month. I just wish I could get my muse back, or back into the writing groove. I desperately wish. I got a bit busy there and seem to have lost those quiet moments I'd so miraculously managed to carve out for myself in July. Maybe I should just go with the uber soapy flow of the current fic (which will be the last one anyway), as much as I despair of it, and then get back to polishing off the one that's nearly done. Well, aside from the pesky plot bits. With a mighty leap, he was free...

Generation Kill

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Tags: agatha christie, alexander skarsgard, dalziel and pascoe, doctor who, gideon's way, james mcavoy, jane austen, laurence fox, robson green, the saint

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