Didn't even have any luck trying escape in the park again. This time it was covered in tents, all fenced off. Not an internment camp, as was suggested, nor jousting as I'd hoped, but some wine tasting wank off for inner city types. Sigh.
Oh, and I know I've been watching bucketloads of telly this week, but, still being mightily unwell (all my fault, I own it), instead of running about doing stuff once I finally get home (though I did do the ironing last night), I've been heading straight to the bat cave, and, too knackered to read or download 97 piccies of young Mr Bomer, each one impossibly prettier than the last, I've been watching dvds instead. And it's been fun, to be honest, as I rarely get to, and late at night, I'm reasonably guaranteed uninterrupted viewing (reasonably, mind).
Reading? Just finished Persuasion, again (Captain Wentworth finally got ever himself) and now I'm re-reading Casino Royale. It is a universally acknowledged truth that the scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning.
It was the first and only book I grabbed off the 'to do' pile this morning. I was aiming for something else but came up Casino Royale in the dim wattage of my power saving bulbs. Btw, you know you really need to get onto it when the 'to do' pile starts to experience slippage.
It probably won't be helped by the magazine the PG picked up for me in Bondi (there were none in the city, not even for money). It was the Men's Health issue with young Mr Bomer, and I was gonna say, yay, straight onto the top of the bedside table pile, but there's just no way that's gonna sound right and now "research materials" is always gonna sound so very wrong to my ears, oh dear, it just gets worse and worse. Sorry, Matt. I promise it'll be pristine, well, the PG warns me it's somewhat less than pristine (ewww), being from Borders, when I get around to scanning it. Yeah, I know it's already been scanned, but just for my own albums, oh, worse and worse!
TV? Well, actually worked through Maverick, Get Smart and Oz and James (sigh) but I did see Dollhouse, which was worthwhile soley for another fine Victor moment. That boy is a genuine find, I hope to see him something else soon. Something I would want to watch, with any luck, but just so as he's employed is fine with me.
Stuff I want to watch? Yeah, I seem to have quite given up the difficult and interesting for the dumb and fun these days, oh dear. Like, Crime and Punishment is on tonight, which I have wanted to see, but opposite White Collar? Yeah, right. And fie on the commercial channels for programming my fave shows on Fri and Sun, my traditional Auntie nights. So not fair. Thank goodness for ABC2 and UKTV as my second chance channels, then, eh? But, gosh darn it, Fri and Sun were my Brit nights, and ne'er the twain would meet, etc, etc. Now the only time I stumble across a Brit if if he starts swanning about in some daft American caper, oh dear. That it has come to this, I swear. I ought to hand in the keys of the Brit List, I really ought, but I'm sure it's just a phase, and this too shall pass.
Though I don't know why I worry about my daft shows. I just adore the ITC ouvre so I'm no stranger to a parking lot with a couple of potted palms passing for some tin pot country, and I'm certainly no defender of Chuck et al in the originality stakes (a Central American dictator? Really?) or anything else for that matter (I just find it cheerfully quirky and the Buy More machinations speak to me). I also find Chuck's stuck in the 80s sensibilities cringeworthy at times, but having dated Tron obsessed gentlemen in my youth, I do get a giggle whenever they poke fun. Oh yes indeedy (games widow much?).
And while constant pop culture references can be considered lazy writing by some, hell, even Jane Austen did it (she did, there were several pop refs in Persuasion, in fact, heaps, when I think about it, as she namechecks books and poets), they should just chill. Everyone does it. Maverick was certainly doing it in the 50s (oh, you sly post modern show show, you) and well, just think of the 19thC when everyone was all over each other's work (and each other, so the rumours say), artists ripping off poems, poets ripping of artists, novelists ripping off everyone, and all that back and forth cross referencing - I'm still not sure if it could be called the cultural zeitgeist or one gigantic circle jerk.
There's a problem with reading too much 19thC fiction, though (which I do, because it's very cheap), aside from raising the odd eyebrow when one discovers Doyle and Wilde swapped notes. It's accidentally employing the 19thC usage and meaning of words. Occassionally gets one in trouble and most terribly misunderstood. Oh dear.
Oh, looks like I won't be going anywhere tomorrow, and I was so looking forward to going out, even if it was by myself, and it probably always will be, the way I've been carrying on of late. I always used to be so dutiful, like show up even if I was in a state like the Black Knight or it was disaster movie weather, but these days I seem to be very changeable, but, well, if I wake up and find my cold has lifted a litle and it's too damp for washing and there's something I really want to do, why not? Why not, I say. I guess my trips away (oh, trips away, how I miss you) have taught me that I can deviate from my agreed program, if I so choose, if it's just me to worry about, and, I've got to say, the freedom of choice, the joy in serendipity, it's very heady (especially for one so duty bound and tied down by routine and expectation).
Only I could live in a world where spur of the moment, whim and fancy and, indeed, being selfish and determined and doing what you want could be such terrible and unforgiveable crimes (no wonder I'm writing WC from Peter's POV, such is our envy of unencumbered free spirits).
I guess it is kinda rude, especially when I've spent a lifetime, a thankless lifetime, being old reliable geyser dog person. But you know, Willow got the hump every so often, and so do I. Some days, just every once in a while, I just gotta.
I just gotta, and I can't be the only person in the world to break promises, forget, or be ungrateful.
In fact, I can try and remedy one little thing right now: Thankyou for the disks (you know who you are), thank you for the books, t-shirts, toys, dvds, cds, magazines, scans, links, emails, comments, photos and trinkets that bring such joy. I wish I could make it more an even swap, but I just don't know how, you'll need to hint, you really do. Thank you so very much for making me feel cared for, remembered and understood. Thank you. You are appreciated. You are respected. You are very dear to me.
Meanwhile, it looks like it's gonna be a long night. Damn 4.15ers.
Sat: And they kept coming. Despite this, I wasn't quite so cross as I thought I might be come 10pm. Watched a bit of Criminal Justice, which was far more engrossing than I'd been led to believe, and I jotted away some. Finihed one notebook and was well on the way with another. i can't elieve I've scribbled so much. How on earth am I going to type it all up?
Any way, White Collar. Oddly, enjoyed this episode much, much more this time around. Lovely interaction with he boys, where to start? Neal hissy fit and the walking home (oooh, very annoyed), or Peter being so amused at Neal's irritation at the fanboy worship. And the whole odd couple thing, and man, they were not subtle about that at all. And Peter being kicked out, he looked so downcast, aww. Still, Peter violated Neal's privacy quite illegally, even if Neal's not so secret quest for the macguffin gives him cause to, and Peter was also the house guest from hell, and you think ten years of married life would have domesticated him a touch but clearlly El isn't as prissy or fussy as Felix, I mean Neal. Make of that what you will, gentle viewers.
I'm just glad the fandom hasn't divided into Peter vs Neal...yet. Because it's hard to pick sides. I mean, you can't argue that Peter should respect Neal's rights when Neal is his responsibility and Neal is always up to something he shouldn't be. Imho, that is.
The jade elephant macguffins this week? Who the heck cares But maybe you should make me care, White Collar writers. Stop being so smug and go watch a couple of Hitchcock films, 'kay? Possibly not Rope, though.
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