mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

Can one desire too much of a good thing?

Reasons to adore Alessandro #37: Because I've had to order some of his more obscure back catalogue films from amazon, because you just can't get them here, at all, amazon has finally decided I like intense, arty independent films and is finally no longer recommending trash cinema like Attack of the Killer Klowns which I got stuck with after some less than sensible choices previously. I love you, Alessandro.


Heh, they're talking underrated actors and actors who have fallen from grace and I didn't even have to phone in Mr Biehn, as he's just been name checked in the fallen from grace category. I should ring in with my other boys, even Sam, especially Sam, but I'm supposed to be working right now.

Yes, I said working. apparently the offer of a day off wasn't genuine and I wasn't supposed to really say yes, dammit, I want a day off. So I'm here, old reliable dog geyser person. Just me and all the servers falling over, like I care.

My boss is just like my mother, always offering me choices that aren't really choices as there's never anything behind door number two. As a Capricorn who considers every decision very, very carefully, weighing all the pros and cons, these tricks are very annoying, as well distressing. Grumble.

I'm doubly pissed off because I'm supposed to be taking receipt of Del Boy today, and now I can't. Bugger.

I stayed back late yesterday to get all my work done, foolish child that I am, as it made me overtired and I learnt never try and write a love scene when you're tired and have a headache. It just doesn't work. I sketched out the mechanics of the scene but completely failed to capture the comfortable joy the characters were taking in each other's company, which was what I was trying to show. It's important. I've never really written a happy couple before. It's kind of fun. Doormat and Arsehole I know very well and can write easily, but this is shiny and new, and my enjoyment in writing this fic is transparent on my face, at least according to an acquaintance on the bus who wanted to know what on earth I was thinking of to make me smile so. Wouldn't she like to know - grin. Nekkid Sam fer starters ;D


Oh well, at least in fic I can go for a rewrite, the old take two, a luxury one never has in real life - and wouldn't it be great if you could keep going for take after take until you got it right. Alas, we are but mortals, and clumsy, fallible ones at that.

At least I slep in this morning and wild dream, including crashing planes, watching old musicals with new friends, travelling to exotic places and dressing once more in my favourite Tara-like gear, which made me happy, gave me a few ideas to go on with, fic wise. No, not the tree of life shop, but the rather fx budget eating helicopter crash. I liked that. I can use that. Aside from the fic ideas my dreams seem to be encouraging me to keep what I like but lose a lot and replace a lot, too, especially get some new people and places in my life.

I'd really like to meet some new totally non fan people. Of course it'd be sort of dishonest because I'd be hiding a large part of myself, but it's nothing I haven't been doing all my life, and it'd be refreshing to talk of, see and experience new things. Yes, must do new things. Need new things.

I think I just really need a holiday. That usually covers the new people, new experiences, new places, new thoughts, new flavours, new clothes, escape from me that I so desperately crave. My itchy feet fever has obviously moved into the critical phase.

The whole musical thing was amusing, too. I suppose multiple playings of Love's Labours Lost are to blame, but once upon a time, back when I was very unpopular at high school (when was I ever not unpopular?) I used to trill along with a friend and they were always creaking old showtunes that we were belting out. Further proof that I am indeed, as accused, a gay man trapped in a straight woman's body. Either that or it was the 80s, I had no life to speak of (I got into uni by studying all night, every night), and the tv only ever cranked out ancient musicals to fill up the gaps in the schedule between endless mindnumbing sport, which I loathe to this day, thus causing my film knowledge to solely rest between 1920 and 1960, ie the Bill Collins years. Sad, I know, that I have no working knowledge of 70s film, but a relief that I skipped over much of the 80s and 90s - grin. Until I got cable - bigger grin.

Why do they make me do this? I just don't have the temperament required for help desk calls. Just had one guy whining that a page wasn't updating - he was looking at a copy on disk (insert sound of me thumping my head on my desk here). Or maybe I do have the perfect IT helpdesk 'tude. Especially today where even the bus broke down. If everybody could just tell themselves to get knotted, it'd save me the trouble of doing it myself.

But inside I'm singing, because I know sometime tonight I'll be with my boys, scribbling away.

Day and night, night and day, why is it so
That this longing for you follows wherever I go
In the roaring traffic's boom
In the silence of my lonely room
I think of you
Day and night, night and day

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