The Last Line Meme

May. 23rd, 2017 12:29 pm
calliopes_pen: (54 IJ Edith candles corridors)
[personal profile] calliopes_pen
Because I think we all need some mindless stuff at the moment, have a meme that I took from [personal profile] musesfool.

Cite the final line of five of your fics – your favorites, or the most recent ones.

1. There was still happiness yet to come...for both the living, as well as for the undead. Wrap The Cloak Of Night Around His Shoulders. Dracula (1968), following the wedding between Seward and Mina.

2. With this bittersweet chapter concluded, they would see to the rest of their lives. Let The Shadows Become Your Shroud. Crimson Peak (2015). That’s basically Alan and Edith limping off to see to their wounds, mourn Thomas, and just live, in the aftermath of a massive exorcism of a ghost from reality itself.

3. There was solace in the shadows, for both young and old vampires alike. Give Your Soul To The Night. Fright Night (1985). Jerry is revelling in winning as quietly as he can, while settling down for a nap, surrounded by turned teenagers, in his coffin in the basement.

4. Only the dead remained. Blood Begets A Curse Anew. Legend (1985). It probably is as grim as it sounds, as Darkness basically teleported a changed Lili (help me; I keep writing Lucy) out of the dining hall, after teleporting the goblins away to somewhere presumably unpleasant. Oh, and should anyone be curious about this story, do beware of a bit of animal sacrifice at the beginning, and references to torture in the middle.

5. And we gladly feast on those that would subdue us. Because We’re Addamses. Wednesday Addams is thinking, and thereby reiterating a statement made in the first Addams Family film.
calliopes_pen: (fab_jupiter Never Forget Tara)
[personal profile] calliopes_pen
This is not in order of importance, but in order of how recently I heard of it.

1. Sir Roger Moore has passed away at the age of 89, following a “short but brave battle with cancer.” He will be best known for his role as James Bond, over the course of seven films. Sherlock Holmes fans may also remember that he was Holmes in the film Sherlock Holmes In New York (1976).

2. My condolences must also go out to Zack Snyder, his wife, and the rest of his family in the wake of a family tragedy. Snyder will be stepping down as the director of Justice League as he mourns the loss of his daughter, and requested that Joss Whedon direct additional material for him.

3. And lastly, but certainly not least: as the numbers confirmed to be both dead and injured continue to rise, my thoughts are with the families affected by the suicide bombing at Manchester yesterday. It just didn’t feel right to post condolences and not mention this one as well. Here’s James Corden’s message to Manchester.
beren_writes: Manga portraits of Harry and Draco (Default)
[personal profile] beren_writes
Title: Defence, Pretence, Offence - Chapter 52/70 - Boxing Day
Author: Beren (aka Tasha)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: This story is canon compliant until the end of Order of the Phoenix and then goes AU. None of the HBP or Deathly Hallows plot will be used, or the Horcruxes for that matter since this story was planned before we knew the details about those things, and hence has it's own fanon. This includes birthdays and other information that have since been revealed on Pottermore and in further productions.
Summary: The threat of open war in on the horizon. The Order and the Ministry are of one accord and both know that where Harry Potter is, Voldemort will eventually be. Preparations are being made and this time the side of the light will not be caught unawares.
Summer classes, sabotage, revelations about Draco's father, teaching and the final showdown with Voldemort all await Harry and Draco in this exciting sequel to Gold Tinted Spectacles (LJ | AO3 | Wattpad).
Author's Notes: This is the second story in the Hecatemae universe. It starts up just after the end of the first instalment and I advice reading that one first so you understand the premise. Thanks go to my sister Sophie for the beta reading.
It has taken me 12 years to finally get around to finishing this, I very much hope everyone enjoys it.
Link to other parts: LJ | DW | AO3 | Wattpad
New chapters will be posted every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Chapter 52 - Boxing Day )

Gettin' old

May. 23rd, 2017 06:10 am
missdiane: (Powerpuff Dine)
[personal profile] missdiane
This morning on the news, someone announced that 232 years ago today back in 1785, correspondence from Benjamin Franklin with the first illustration of bifocal glasses occurred. 

Interesting timing hearing that since yesterday I finally had to suck it up and get bifocals. I'm going for the non-line ones which I hope I can adjust to quickly enough. Since Sears Optical had their usual BOGO deal, for the second pair, I ordered non-bifocal "computer glasses" so I won't have to do that annoying thing of tilting my head back to read stuff on the screen. I got that pair with some sassy blue frames. The regular pair is a darker purple in back and a tortoiseshell pattern in front.  

Though you'd think after something is around for 232 years that they wouldn't be so darned expensive. Bah.

(no subject)

May. 21st, 2017 11:45 pm
lycomingst: (dr who?)
[personal profile] lycomingst
Netflix movie. London River )

I also read a book. Hal: The Boy Who Became Mark Twain, an autobiography by Hal Holbrook. What this book needed was an iron-willed editor. Holbrook’s very interesting when he talks about his family and about most of his career but there is much too much itinerary detail about his crisscrossing the country in his early days performing at schools and clubs.

He comes across as a callow young man who paid little attention to his first wife after she stopped performing with him and started having his children.

With all the padding about his travels the book turns into a first volume which only covers the first part of his career. I’d enjoy reading the next one concentrating on his later tv and stage work.
*********
I bought a Costco membership, on a whim. They have organic fruit that I can afford but I don’t like going in there because mostly people will step right on you because they don’t register any other humans exist. They’re intent on giant boxes of stuff.

I have 3 different Yahoo addresses. Yahoo in their corporate wisdom has linked them up so I can jump between them. BUT, if I wanted them bundled I wouldn’t have 3 different ones. Corporate America, giving people things they don’t want. Yes, I’m complaining about a free service.

The First Five Lines Meme

May. 19th, 2017 12:28 pm
calliopes_pen: (my bloody valentine Edith hat smile)
[personal profile] calliopes_pen
List the first five (or so) lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether. WIPs count). See if there are any patterns.

Beneath the cut, have the openings for five posted stories and two WIP’s. )

RIP Chris Cornell

May. 18th, 2017 09:22 am
missdiane: (Bear hiding eyes)
[personal profile] missdiane
52 is entirely too young. Wow. He was one of my favorites, be it in Soundgarden, Audioslave, solo, etc. Just the other day, this came on the radio as I was driving home and it always makes me have a bittersweet smile - it will more so now.

Since my Mom's a huge rock fan, she's going to be bummed by this. One of her favorite songs from the pop Christmas albums is his version of Ave Maria

 
lannamichaels: Dark background. Text: "We're here to heckle the muppet movie." (heckle the muppet movie)
[personal profile] lannamichaels


Or, not a real review, just basic stuff, and then the snippets I sent myself in e-mail to keep. I have had a no good, very bad, horrible day, and I gotta say, the back half of the book is pretty soothing in a way. The front part is All Aral/Jole Retcon, All The Time, and that's just terrible. Once it gets beyond that, I could pretend that Cordelia and Jole were simply old friends who decided to try to give it a go a few years after Aral died. And if that had been the book, it would have been perfectly fine. I wouldn't have nominated it for any awards or anything, but just some nice forgettable comfort fic, which some days is just exactly what you need.

Unfortunately, that was not this book.

And, frankly, the title of this book is so awesome. I feel a bit let down just on that part :P

Anyway, general stuff:
-I am still nowhere closer to having a "feel" for Cordelia's voice and being able to write her :(
-my opinion on Miles/Ekaterin has not changed in the least.


And now, since I kept reading after the second chapter only for things to use for other stuff, mostly-contextless snippets, with no citations. Some with comments, some not. This is not all the notable background things in the book, just the ones that caught my attention For Purposes.the snippets )
missdiane: (Default)
[personal profile] missdiane
I wouldn't have been any more surprised if the ENT would have proclaimed loudly "BORING!" and walked out.

Evidently by my CT scan I have super duper clean lovely sinuses...yet I have sinusitis. Whut? Oh, he's thinking it's migraines. Yes, I take BP meds because my GP diagnosed me with a month-long migraine. It helped for a while but I guess not anymore. He says I should to go a neurologist and get on meds.

But my major concern today was redness inside my lips and burning inside my mouth when I eat as well as a lump below my tongue. The lump started last week and I assumed it was probably a salivary stone since Mom gets those so I upped the water intake and started doing hard candy. It helped it go down some. But the mouth thing sprung up suddenly yesterday morning. This ENT doesn't seem to give a shit and yes, actually told me I was too healthy for him and dismissed me.

Guess since I'm not interesting enough or not dying of cancer, I'm not worthy of decent treatment? Yeah, fuck that dude. Well, for now I got some dry mouth gel, I'm going to make a much better effort to eat, exercise and otherwise live healthier and see where that takes me before I start doctor hopping again because clearly they don't give a shit.

White rice

May. 17th, 2017 07:58 am
mockturle06: (Chris)
[personal profile] mockturle06

I must have looked at my calendar and thought, yay, two weeks without any engagements. I know, I’ll be sick!

At least, that’s what it feels like. I think it’s just a lurgy I picked up in Melbourne, but as I’ve not had a proper, decent make me feel entirely wretched cold for a couple of years now (that dose of flu/whooping cough/tonsillitis that damn nearly killed me several years ago gifted me with an immunity to everything, until now) so I’m taking it like a grizzling toddler/adult male.

Still, it’s been an excuse to stay close to the telly. Oh yes, Pine. But first, I did see a play last week.

STC’s Talk, at the Opera House, was very funny, oddly timely and a bit old hat (it’s been in production for years), somewhat farcical about serious matters (but so was MASH). It wasn’t quite what I thought it was going to be, more an essay on modern media in general, rather than an examination of a shock jock.

It was oddly visceral in charting the decline of the traditional media structure, and I saw it days before Mark Colvin died, but after the Sydney Morning Herald sackings. Oddly, the original number of sacked journos in the play was 50, but, as discussed in the Q&A after the show, they knocked it down to 25, which they still thought high. Turns out 115 was the number. So that was shockingly relevant.

What was quaint was shifting the blame for all this onto feckless Millennial bloggers, rather than the entirely more sinister psyops strategy we know it is now.

Reading that Guardian article reminded me of the tactics described by Fleming, yes, Fleming, in From Russia With Love, and I’m not sure whether Fleming was describing Russian psyops or inventing them, but either way, the blueprint is there. Ditto some of the early Le Carres, should you require corroboration, and if you still don’t believe this stuff can happen, go read Philby’s piece, which can be summed up as a smug ‘too easy’. Or read today’s headlines. Whichever.

But I digress. Basically, I was there to see John Waters on stage (because I still have a thing for Sergeant McKellar, for shame), and anything written by Jonathan Biggins is likely to be very witty, local and topical, and it was. Even the sets were a hoot, with the stark (and entirely accurate) contrast between the ABC and Newscorp press rooms. It was a bit slapstick, more than a bit (too much Revue creeping in), but it certainly hit the mark about the message, even if it did hammer it home with all the subtlety of a shock jock.

So that’s me, supporting the yartz, local thespians and new works. Job done and it wasn’t that painful (see, new works don’t have to be distressingly awful).

So, the Pine. Basically, the screening, at last, a week later, of a very cut down version of his SNL episode, featuring only three skits that had Mr Pine in them (and no music, no monologue, no dance off, but luckily I have friends). Um, what to say? Well, the kid can sing, and sing he did, but I was hoping for more funny, but I guess the called off at the last-minute writer’s strike might have played into that a bit? Maybe? Or did Chris just want to sing his little heart out, bless. (Had I seen the monologue I could have comments about TPTB fascination with white guys called Chris, but I didn’t, so I don’t).

Either way, what I saw wasn’t that funny, but maybe I was annoyed at knowing, from Tumblr, that I was missing out on huge, huge chunks of the show, and 6am is never my optimum viewing time (who am I kidding, I was missing the Thunderbirds) but hey, at least it was Chris on telly. Foxtel also slapped on Star Trek, Star Trek: Beyond and Finest Hours for my viewing pleasure. I was going to hit the tottering pile of dvds, but the cold was running riot by then, and I was too grumpy and wheezy for anything, really.

What I did watch, while sulking, was this woeful piece of MST3K bait called The Five Golden Dragons, a British-German coproduction from 1967 (oh yeah, baby) and set in oh so British Hong Kong, with Christopher Lee slumming it as one of the, well, it’s hardly a spoiler now, is it, bad guys. Oh, it was so awful, despite my existential misery I was screeching with laughter. Especially the tight close-up reaction shot from the really bad dragon mask. Oh my, yes. What a…gem.

This is what Chris should have done on SNL. If he wants to play a spy, play a 1967 playboy one with hokey exoticism and lashings of camp (oh, this film is so…well, you’ll see, in a subtext rapidly becoming text kinda way). (I swear I could have written funnier sketches, I can be funny, why, just yesterday I was asking why these birds were called oystercatchers, as it didn’t seem to me that oysters needed that much catching).

Anyways, since I discovered cheap chop-socky can make me smile, I decided it was time to dive into the limp noodle fest that is Iron Fist, with Daisy no less as an ineffectual simpering villain (so far at least, I’ve got four or five episodes to go). Because I always wallow in the MCU when I’m poorly. It’s tradition.

Iron Fist isn’t at all great, but it’s not as bad as the reviews said, and the whole white-washing/white saviour thing was kind of inherent/inherited in the text, so it’s unfortunate, and TPTB could have done more to address the post-colonial elephant in the room, but they didn’t, and suffered a critical panning as they probably deserved, but it could have been worse (see The Five Golden Dragons).

Actually, Iron Fist could have done with a lot more camp and really silly dragon masks. You know, play up, not play down the woeful historical baggage that drags on it like a boat anchor. That and the most underwhelming, whiny white man-baby rich bitch protagonist, but I guess that’s very now (at least he's not called Chris).

Basically, I didn’t mind it, it’ll do while I’m unwell and grumpy, but it could do with an infusion of Fu Manchu. Go completely Danger 5, go Monkey, go The Samurai. Ah, I guess I grew up with this stuff more than the American white boys making Iron Fist. Would it kill them to give me some Big Trouble in Little China? That should have been their reference. Can I at least have a mesmerist and a giant rat?

I’d ask that TPTB could, for once, not make it all about some rich white princeling with daddy issues, but again, very now. Destiny and daddy issues. Seriously, can somebody put these tropes to bed? Tuck them in with a story and some warm milk?

In other news. the shirt I’m wearing today, while vaguely a Margaret Preston-y print, is fashionably rumpled, because I so didn’t do any ironing on the weekend (see grumpy, sulking, above).

Besides, I can’t iron and hold my phone up at the same time, which the only device that will stream anything right now. My laptop crashes even on iView, and my poor tablet can’t even open up Tumblr with any success. Ah, to be stranded in the country with the 51st slowest internet speeds in the world (NYT). Yes, people in countries where the main form of transport is a goat have a better chance of viewing YouTube trailers than me. Not that I’m bitter or fed up or anything.

In case you were wondering why I still rely on cable and dvd for my viewing choices. Besides, occasionally they cough up charming surprises like The Five Golden Dragons. I should have never have sought out a classic like that on my own (because I have some shred of sanity left). But I was sick, it was on telly. Bliss. Doing it old school.

And yes, it was a dreadfully sexist, racist film but it was 1967 and a British/German production so it is what it is, I was just there for the cringing silly. And besides, like campy fat old white guys with criminal connections really rule the world…that would be silly.

But yes, I realise it’s all a bit wrong, but one can no more argue that it’s not very nice to be racist and sexist with white dudes from 1967 than one can with conservatives today. I wonder what the world would be like if sad old fat ugly nasty petty rich white dudes didn’t put everyone else down.

Ah well, it’s the world I live in. It kinda sucks. But I have (Pine enabling and Olympus de-yellowing) friends, and most folks at work aren’t dicks. So there’s that. I could do without this cold though. Who needs to feel more miserable?

Items of interest: https://plus.google.com/u/0/113197665355692280218/posts

Facebook group created!

May. 16th, 2017 03:08 pm
missdiane: (Getting in shape!)
[personal profile] missdiane
Since FB can be the breeding ground for drama, I'm being especially brave. But hey, it's one more place to check in and keep myself accountable so no risk, no reward!

Any and all interested folks are welcome to join the Vegan Week Challenge group on Facebook which the first one starts on Tuesday May 30 (post Memorial Day weekend because I'm nice) and ends Monday June 5 - well, unless you keep going!

Hopefully it will be the first of many. I could stand a regular kick in the pants to eat well and do right by the world. 

Need a system shakeup

May. 16th, 2017 09:39 am
missdiane: (Kitty Chinese food)
[personal profile] missdiane
Hey [personal profile] veganhothead  I think it might be time for me to do another Vegan Week challenge and invite others if they're game. Whattya think? Maybe x-post it to FB. FYI, there's a Food Porn forum with some vegan folks that just joined if you want to be added? It's not all vegan but the new folks do post some seriously yummy looking stuff.

I need to improve my diet and need to get exercising and you'd think that with Summer coming it's be easier since that's when everyone gets all energized but I'm exactly the opposite since I'm a sun and heat avoider. So if I make it a personal challenge and get habits to stick through this rough period, it should help.

I need to use some bits up and do some pondering for what to eat so hm...Could start the end of this month? Anyone else feel like joining in?

Rest In Peace, Powers Boothe

May. 15th, 2017 12:14 pm
calliopes_pen: (alterian Kitty Pryde goodbye)
[personal profile] calliopes_pen
Powers Boothe has passed away at the age of 68; he died in his sleep from natural causes. May he rest in peace. I caught him in a couple episodes of Agents of SHIELD as Gideon Malick when I was still watching it from time to time. I think I primarily remember him as the voice of Gorilla Grodd in Justice League Unlimited.

Not a book to be set aside lightly

May. 15th, 2017 12:35 pm
lannamichaels: Astronaut Dale Gardner holds up For Sale sign after EVA. (Default)
[personal profile] lannamichaels
“Aral talked to me about nearly everything—I was his only safe repository for that part of himself, till you came along—but he was always a bit cagey about how you two got started. The empire was at peace, Miles was safely locked up in the Academy, political tensions were at an all-time low—not that that lasted—I go off to visit my mother on Beta Colony leaving him in no worse straits than another of his unrequited silent crushes. I come back to find you two up and running and poor Illyan having a meltdown—it was like talking him in off a ledge.” Aral’s utterly loyal security chief had never come closer to, if not weeping with relief, at least cracking an expression, to find in her not an outraged spouse, but an unruffled ally. I knew Aral was bisexual when I married him. And he knew I was Betan. Melodrama was never an option, Illyan.



If i weren't reading this on my phone, this would be the throw across the room point...

I think i might continue just to see, but, like, i started this just to be fair, and because petya was throwing tantrums in my head about honor and he has no room at all to talk, and then petya was calming down a bit, but then *I* start noping...

Like, it's not like i didn't know canon!aral was like this, but, yeah, nope. Nope!

Also, this is not how you solve "was bisexual, now monogamous", just btw. That isn't even my biggest problem here, but, nope!

Southern climes

May. 15th, 2017 02:25 pm
mockturle06: (Lewis)
[personal profile] mockturle06

So, Melbourne. It was just a week away, me trying to cheer myself up, a consolation prize to myself, because I can’t afford overseas holidays any more.

Also, tiny bit inconvenient, with the family situation and all. You know, that line in Hamlet, ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions’, I always thought it was over-egging the plot a touch by having misery upon misery, but as my family has taken a turn for the gothic, it really does go like that, I’ve discovered.

Anyway, much like my anglophile trip to NYC (saw James Corden and Andrew Garfield on stage, and an exhibition on Mary Shelley, and I went to the cloisters to see the Lewis chessmen, etc.) I decided to do a faux-euro trip to Melbourne, seeing European art in galleries and sitting in French, Italian and Greek cafes. Catching trams. Stuff I can’t do here.  It sounds stupid and pathetic, and it is, but my Italian colleague gave my valiant attempt the thumbs up for trying, so there’s that.

So I went and saw the Van Gogh exhibition at the NGV. I wanted to see some VVG in Europe, so this would have to do. Maybe that’s why I was disappointed. I mean, I know they usually only send us the stuff they don’t care if it drops into the Indian Ocean, and quite right, too, (irreplaceable plant specimens from France destroyed in Australian quarantine blunder) but this was stuff they didn’t care if it fell down a volcano. Early juvenilia sketches and depressing scenes from when he was locked up in the loony bin. Exciting if you were a scholar, but it really wasn’t…there wasn’t anything to show you why people make a fuss about the man. So I was angry, because it’s crap shows like this that made me take a lifetime to understand why Vincent is considered a big deal. Because these muddy sketches in no way demonstrate it.

Also, it was far too crowded to properly look or consider, as each painting was surrounded by a deep scrum of tourists. Which was also annoying as I’ve had rooms full of Van Gogh to myself overseas (and I have the photos to prove it). Why should I have to pay a mighty fee to be jostled like I’m on my peak-hour bus, all to see a work nowhere near as luminous as the ones I’ve had all to myself to admire overseas?

Ah, well, if it was the bliss of solitary contemplation of great art I was after, I was right in my choice of the Hellenic Museum. The ticket price was off-putting to the same noisy tourists, so I had a room of ancient masterpieces all to myself to swoon over. And swoon I did. It was just a tiny room, with only a handful of statues, cups and the odd bit of bling to consider, but I prefer that, just one piece, one on one, to look, to study, to contemplate. To imagine if this was something the artist laboured over in tears, or something he knocked off before lunch? Ah, there was a lovely old pot I saw once at the Ian Potter museum that had clearly been started before lunch, but finished afterwards, because the careful lines became noticeably wobbly and skewed after a bit. So, that was me, chillin’ with Aphrodite, Paris and Hercules. Loved that.

And I loved the Love exhibition at the NGV. This one was free, uncrowded and full of treasures and delights from the NGV’s Europhile collection. The only time I grew cranky here was my outrage on the part of Aphrodite, whose statue was broken apart and stuck back together with plaster by so-called Edwardian gentlemen to better emulate their fashionable ideas of beauty. Yep, being a goddess wasn’t good enough. So they hacked her to bits and glued her back together like rough-handling Pygmalions. Because blokes.

The other one was my favourite print of Regency era dancers, arms upright and curved, no sharp-angled elbows akimbo like you see so often in period bonnet-pieces. I used to be (still am, a bit) an extreme nerd for that period and it annoys me when they don’t get the details right when it’s so easy to just look at the print and there it is, you can see how they danced, no need to guess.

Yes, you might have noticed that I don’t like huge liberties taken with history. Mainly because it’s just lazy and sloppy, but also because it’s unfair (as I don’t have access to see the real deal, be it costumes, mode or location), and it’s also bloody dangerous (to put misinformation out there).

Especially when folks take most of their history from the screen these days. Not just dangerous, but rude and insulting, too. Like, because America erases Australian forces from every single war film, despite having served alongside American troops for a hundred years, I get ignorant comments from so-called friends like ‘oh, were you guys in WWII?’ and if we hadn’t been on the freeway right then I’d have told her to pull over so I could get out. Harumph.

But enough about that. Back to love, and this exhibition covered it, from the sublime and the pious to the darn silly, filthy, dirty and dangerous, from Pamela (ah, to think I’ll never see the full set of Pamelas) to the cards pointing out the lewd imagery within symbols to cads and trollops and sweet pics of people and their pets. Love in all its forms and guises, good and bad, love gone bad and outright misogyny and yet also innocence and sacrifice. Fashions, flirting and faith. 

It was a small and eclectic collection and I loved it. Again, because it was small and uncrowded I had time to pause and consider, admire and appreciate.

Pausing even more (I’m old, and my knees are gone) in a café crawl across Melbourne, but they have so many, and they’re so nice, and kitted out to an almost but not quite Euro-Disney way, like super concentrated Euro café vibes, but that’s exactly what I wanted and needed. Unfortunately, one is paying for the vibe, because the food was awful, but, as I reminded myself, that was authentic, too (I did break down and go the nasi lemak at the Malaysian café round the corner, on my last day).  Still, I got to curl into various corners with my increasingly battered Rebus book, and order a coffee or three.

Trawling around Fitzroy was a bust. I thought it was because I was doing it sober and in daylight, but the problem was I was doing it years too late. All the cool ugly-beanie people have been priced out (they’re even being shifted/shafted out of Reservoir, so I hear now) and it was all ladies-who-lunch.

Who alas spoiled what had been shaping up to be a good time in a heartfelt parody of a French café, with their reeking perfume and painted faces and they went on and on like the real housewives of Melbourne over whose husband was cheating and/or beating. It was so horrifying it made me happy to be ugly and alone and forget my shameful tears earlier in the week. Good lesson. 

Theatre was ripe, but I’d seen most of the shows already in Sydney, so I saw The Book of Mormon, because it’s supposed to be a big deal. I didn’t mind it. I was just there mainly because I love Melbourne’s old theatres, though I loved it slightly less when the queue for the loo stretched out into the road (male-designed architecture vs women’s anatomy and fashion – discuss).

I had a wildly overpriced cocktail and spotted friends of my happy-clappy rellos sitting in the row in front of me – mutually busted, but oddly I get on better with them than the rellos so it wasn’t as awkward a meeting as it might have been.

That wasn’t the night I ended up in Little Bourke Street, though. Meant to, but decided on a burger and a night in front of the box watching Jude Law instead. Because Jude (and as I was missing him live on stage, watching the SBS screening of Young Pope would have to suffice).

Between Young Pope and Book of Mormon there was a lot of faith-based viewing going on, but there’s no escaping it these days, even if I take it no more seriously than a statue of Hercules. Besides, both kind of offered insights into the psychology of believers, scary and unsound as it appears to me. Sorry, I’m a rational humanist and will be until the day I die.

But anyway, yes, Little Bourke Street, in the rain, with all the neon dragons flickering in the puddles and bike couriers flashing up and down. Yep, totally a Blade Runner vibe there, damn shame I didn’t have my camera on me. The gongbao chicken was pretty great, too, though I had to settle for Tsing Tao to wash it down with.

Ah yes, my great White Rabbit crawl across Melbourne. I just cannot get dark ale in Sydney. They sell me these funky pale ales that always taste like possum pee. I lurve White Rabbit. They had it at Jackson and Young, in Chloe’s bar, where the famous/infamous painting of Chloe resides. It’s a landmark. It’s a lovely pub, too. Shabby genteel.

I also popped into the Melbourne Museum to see the WWI: Love & Sorrow exhibition. This was so distressing, and I was still fuming over Patty Jenkins’ comments about no-one knowing about WWI.  She meant Americans, though, as Mechad explained at the con, they don’t do remembrances there (he’d seen an ANZAC day service and was still affected). We do two a year, once on ANZAC day (25 April) when we wear rosemary for remembrance, lest we forget, and once on Armistice Day (11 November) when we wear poppies. We will remember them.

So I get there and there’s a packet of tiny souvenir playing cards like my Great Uncle had. I just reeled on from that, past the photos, drawings and casts of men without limbs and faces missing, past the letter from a child to her daddy, and the telegram that arrived instead, past the story of the soldier who came home, drank and beat his wife, then drowned himself. Past the wife who sent baby shoes to her husband from their newborn son, only to have them returned, unopened. Past the mother who waited two years to find out what happened to her son who was MIA, and when finally told he’d been blown to bits, drowned herself in the dam on the family farm. Past the mower that belonged to a blind soldier, who tended his garden by way of guide lines.

We remember them. I don’t know what the Americans do. Make cute adventure films sans ANZACs, I should guess.

So then I rambled about through the anatomy wing, where there were cases upon cases of 18th and 19th century bone saws, which is why most people (unless you make American movies) know that’s where the slang term ‘sawbones’ comes from.

Also hit the dinosaurs (just casts, but they’re always visually so cool) and the geology section (I’m from a family of geologists so I still know my igneous from my metamorphic). Zipped through the ocean and wilderness sections, because it was too much like work (my brain started pulling up work files, so no).

Café trawl was ok, I found a few nooks to hide in, and most made an effort with atmosphere. Weirdly, almost entirely staffed by French waiters, to add to the authenticity of the experience. I don’t know what France is doing for waiters. Maybe they’re all Australian? I never did get back to the café that had the absinthe, though, damn.

The con was more fun than I was expecting. Caught the 57 tram out to the showgrounds every day, past delightful but soon to be demolished heritage buildings, and Jude Law glaring at me from various posters, just to remind me I didn’t go see him in London. It wasn’t at all as bad as the set up in Sydney or that awful one at the Gold Coast, so I zipped from building to building, using and abusing the priority pass I’d bought (just because I thought I’d be way more concussed than I was) so I didn’t have to queue quite so much. There was still queueing though.

Ok, highlights: Me, making Tom Hopper nearly cry by questioning Billy’s actions in the last couple of seasons of Black Sails. Billy’s been hurt and betrayed by those he trusted most, poor wee orphan, and I ought to know that. Consider myself told. Pretty young Mr Hopper also seemed confused why his costumes never included sleeves. I didn’t burst his bubble on that one.

Natalie Dormer revealed herself to be a hardcore history nerd and passionate advocate for Anne Boleyn (all those uncharacteristic talky bits in the Tudors were her idea). So I kind of love her now.

Mehcad Brooks was a total sweetie, talking to all his fans at eye-level, and being very gentle with the tweenie Supergirl fans. It sounds creepy but it was really just him being a really nice guy. Cory Michael Smith from Gotham just about ran off with my passport, because he wouldn’t, couldn’t believe it. And the pic I got with Lee Majors was as awful as always, but the squee going on there could power my laptop for several hours (childhood hero). Besides, he’s pretty much the last of the TV cowboys (Big Valley) and, you know, living history. I honestly didn’t mind him letting a little light onto the magic of my childhood shows. As always, the never meet your heroes edict applied to Buffy more than any other show I’ve ever been a fan of (besides Trek in its many incarnations) but there always has to be one.

Oh and the swishy dress with the huge petticoats I bought on a whim was worth it for the smile it evoked from young Mr Mitchell. Well, that and he was desperate for a signing. That, too, but, oh, such a smile. I shall remember that smile.

That was Melbourne: food, coffee, history and squee.

My pics: https://www.instagram.com/mockturtle06/

My links: https://plus.google.com/u/0/113197665355692280218/posts

Three Items of Note

May. 14th, 2017 10:51 am
calliopes_pen: (shades_of_hades Galavant sings)
[personal profile] calliopes_pen
1. Happy birthday to [personal profile] lost_spook!

2. [livejournal.com profile] whatwasthatbook is closing, over on Livejournal.

I truly hope they end up on Dreamwidth, with all posts imported. Just in case they don’t? I’ll be going through all the tags and jotting down particular found books that I’m interested in locating, just in case they delete the group.

It’s one of the few (well, that still had posts coming in) I was really still keeping track of on Livejournal these days.

3. Moments before composing this entry, I also heard that Timothy Omundson suffered a stroke while at Tampa Airport. So best wishes go out to him. He was one of my favorite parts of Galavant (I didn’t watch much of Psych, but when I did I loved him there).

If you're reading this on the Dreamwidth side, you'll see I added an icon of King Richard from Galavant, since I was strangely lacking in related icons.
missdiane: (kitty fortune cat)
[personal profile] missdiane
It's a cool and very rainy day today. I went for a short trip out to pick up a few groceries that I forgot the other day and to get a lovely loaf of bread from Paris Baguette. My favorite varieties are their multigrain and the pumpkin with black sesame that I picked up this morning
 
 
I've gotten into the whole "avocado toast" craze, which wasn't a stretch since I've always been a big fan of avocados for breakfast, adding them to omelets and such. I saw the stupidest things on the news yesterday that there are some people trying to lobby for a warning label to be put on avocados because dopes aren't being careful when trying to cut them and are stabbing their hands. Give me a break. I've never heard of a call for a warning label on bagels (yeah, have sliced my hands a few times) or butternut squash, or pineapples. 

Anyway, it was a rather foolish choice to go out today. I walked out of the first of three places I'd planned to stop and promptly dropped my umbrella and broke it so that it wouldn't close. Then I found that I parked in a spot where I'd have to step in a trouser-hem-deep puddle to get to the driver's side door. I was a soggy mess when I got home. 

My downstairs neighbors are moving out today and I would've gone down to wish them well but it looked like they were struggling enough with the rain and moving furniture. Poor things. Besides, I did get to run into Natalie yesterday who was about ready to pack the kitties up to move them. This morning she texted me a sweet picture of kittyboy Miles enjoying their new sliding door. I'll text her in a couple of weeks and see when she's around campus if she wants to get lunch or something. 

Once I got dried off, the rain did its work of lulling me into a nap. The kitties have been out cold most of the day. Rainy cool days are the best for napping. I'm not looking forward to next week's weather. After a stretch of below-average temperatures which I was just fine with, it's supposed to suddenly jump to near 90 by mid week. Sheesh. I mean I know summer has to come but could there at least be a gradual introduction? 

Suffice it to say, I got some ham to go with the bread and some other frozen meals and toss-together stuff for the nasty days since I don't want to heat up the apartment by cooking much.

Casting The New Mutants

May. 12th, 2017 11:13 am
calliopes_pen: (alterian fly)
[personal profile] calliopes_pen
Maisie Williams has been cast as Rahne Sinclair for the New Mutants film, while Anya Taylor-Joy will be Illyana Rasputin. This went around at least once before as a rumor. It’s being officially confirmed this time.

While I have no interest whatsoever in Game of Thrones, I have seen Maisie Williams in Doctor Who. She can act. However, I’m not entirely sure how good of a fit she would be for Rahne. I have seen Anya Taylor-Joy in Split (2016); from all I've read, she's far better as Thomasin in The Witch (2015). I have yet to see it, so I wouldn't know.

In order to make any sort of sense, they’ll probably have to scrap Illyana’s origin story of Limbo and Belasco. Then again, Warlock is supposed to be in the film, too. Karma is being left out. It would have been nice to see her in a New Mutants film.

I don’t know what current actress could work as Dani Moonstar.
beren_writes: Manga portraits of Harry and Draco (Default)
[personal profile] beren_writes
Title: Defence, Pretence, Offence - Chapter 51/70 - Mending
Author: Beren (aka Tasha)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: This story is canon compliant until the end of Order of the Phoenix and then goes AU. None of the HBP or Deathly Hallows plot will be used, or the Horcruxes for that matter since this story was planned before we knew the details about those things, and hence has it's own fanon. This includes birthdays and other information that have since been revealed on Pottermore and in further productions.
Summary: The threat of open war in on the horizon. The Order and the Ministry are of one accord and both know that where Harry Potter is, Voldemort will eventually be. Preparations are being made and this time the side of the light will not be caught unawares.
Summer classes, sabotage, revelations about Draco's father, teaching and the final showdown with Voldemort all await Harry and Draco in this exciting sequel to Gold Tinted Spectacles (LJ | AO3 | Wattpad).
Author's Notes: This is the second story in the Hecatemae universe. It starts up just after the end of the first instalment and I advice reading that one first so you understand the premise. Thanks go to my sister Sophie for the beta reading.
It has taken me 12 years to finally get around to finishing this, I very much hope everyone enjoys it.
Link to other parts: LJ | DW | AO3 | Wattpad
New chapters will be posted every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Chapter 51 - Mending )

Prozac

May. 11th, 2017 10:13 pm
lannamichaels: text: "Don't panic" (don't panic)
[personal profile] lannamichaels


After contemlating meds and the like, I think I need to make a resolution that if bad side effects don't go away after three days, I do not continue on the med for over a month (the bad birth control that fucked me over so bad), or, like, I'm not even gonna look at my spreadsheet as to how long I was on goddamn prozac, it was way too long to put up with it. (the replacement med seems to be doing nothing so far and we've increased the dose three times, I think the doc is gonna switch me to yet another one if this doesn't help ocd). I have this history of not standing up for myself in medical stuff (and, like, family stuff, so much tldr there, but I am convinced that it really helped make the Israel Illness much worse than it would have otherwise been), and I need to remind myself that I can say "actually, nope, let's try something else". I am better than I was, but there is still work to be done. Resolution: Do not spend months on a med that is fucking up my life.



Anyway, for posterity: what prozac did:


the plus:
-helped the anxiety a lot
-helped the ocd a lot


the minus:
-fucked with the sleep oh holy fuck did it fuck with sleep
-made me overheat



the overheating thing was something the doc was like "no, prozac doesn't do that???" but now that I've been off it long enough and have had "being freezing a lot" come back, plus lots of times this week when my hands have been really really cold... yay, my magical ability to be cold even when it's really hot has returned! Not that it's been hot this week, but I'm so so so glad the random overheating is gone. I was not looking forward to dealing with the summer + overheating.


And, yes, in retrospect, I should've gotten the hell off of prozac when the sleep thing kept getting worse. It's so nice being able to sleep through the night. I have missed that so much.

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