I was meant to spent the entire weekend documenting the life and times of William Brennan, not just the last couple of hours on Sunday and a frantic hour early this morning. Worse, Jurassic Park III screened four times over the weekend and I only watched it twice. There's just no excuse for this sort of disobedience and snubbing of opportunity.
I suppose it's because this little monkey is getting sick of nothing but pebbles.
It all started on Friday. I was having such a fun day, talking pirate and only talking to people I liked as the Ugly Step-Sisters were both away, leaving Cinders happily to herself. So I decided to run away early and see the Pirates again. Yo ho and it's Pirate slash for me. Worse, I'd actually woken up dreaming of Pirate slash, which is very bad, as there are SGI, M7 and JP3 fics still not finished, damn my short attention span.
So, Pirates: Jack, Orlando and Johnny, yum. Call me controversial but I'm not going OTP. The way poor Norrington just melts at the end, well...
See? Shameful lack of discipline.
So, Saturday. I'd mentioned the art gallery and suddenly it's a family excursion. It wasn't too bad, though it came over very cold and dark at one point, and me with only my weekend frippery on. So we walked through the park to see the Japanese art. Lots of very pretty scrolls and screens about cherry blossums and not a mega robot in sight.
People snarled at me for reading the dimly lit 8pt captions to my Aged Parent. Honestly, if people are going to scowl and grumble at me for that then I can't do anything right, and nor can I as people are mean just because I'm visual pollution. Ah well. I really liked the plum blossum screen with the beggar believing the brush of the petals against his sleeve was Buddha's grace. Lovely.
A cup of tea in the gallery's chi chi cafe, a visit to my favourite old pre-raphaelites and other ye olde paintings (one of these days I'll get to a gallery without somebody sitting on a bench waiting for me to hurry up and finish looking at the damn paintings, and yes, still bitter about the Louvre, Met, etc) and then we walked down through the botannical gardens, which was nice, though they're half the gardens they were when I was a child (turned into carparks). It's sad. Poor old Governor Bligh, his good deeds are all but erased.
Decided on impulse as I was walking by to stop into the Justice Museum's exhibition on crimes of passion. What a crack up. I just loved this and the gleefully lurid detail in which the crimes were presented. I want to marry whomever did the cartoons because they share my black and twisted sense of humour (and I feel like my humour is no longer the crime it has been painted as out here). I just loved this. It was sooooo good. So deliciously warped.
Managed to catch a bus and squeaked home for the fourth and last screening of JP3. Seriously, The credits had just rolled when I switched the tv on. So it was Sam and Sandro (you know you've seen JP3 too many times when you start thinking that those Crunch bars should be really well past their useby date by now), then thai takeaway, Jude and Joseph in Enemy at the Gates and the Mummy Returns and some dabblings, but not much.
Sunday was spent sleeping in. I said it was going to rain because the currawongs were singing their rain song and despite a forecast to the contrary sure enough it rained so I stayed put and read, only emerging in the afternoon sun for cleaning duties (mostly just throwing out old magazines and newspapers once I'd removed the pages I wanted to keep).
Found Orlando on the tv, which nobody had bothered to tell me about (grrr), then it was the last episode of the Forsythe Saga. damn, but Damien must be a good actor because he just makes Soames the most human and worthy of empathy of all of them, which is no small ask, I assure you. Poor Soames, though it was nice to see him achieve a little resolution at last. Talk about still waters and all that tormented passion lurking beneath that stiff upper lip. Beautiful portrayal. I was moved, actually moved.
Then it was a bit more dabbling while QAF played in the background.
Now it is monday and I have to work, sigh. No fic until I fix up the next bit because it's not quite right, yet. At least I've discovered where in the world Sandro is. No, not off making fillums I want to see, of course. No, he's in the UK being Emily's handbag. Sigh. Oh well, at least there were pics of Ewan and Alastair as well.