I saw Inception over the break for the first time. My initial reaction? ‘Thank god I didn’t see this when it came out’

Not because it’s bad – oh no. Don’t think that. If you are one of the other few people on the planet who, like me, have been living under a rock and haven’t seen the film yet then let me reassure you that Inception is in fact bloody brilliant – well written, well directed, wonderfully acted and beautifully shot. The special effects are really quite spectacular.

It’s also marvellously intelligent and – shockingly for a Hollywood film </patronisation> – it pays its viewers the compliment of assuming they have some basic smarts and can follow a plot line when it takes a more scenic route. I’m going to watch and re-watch it just so I can pick over the little details and murmur ‘oh, you clever thing’ to the film lovingly.

But I’m glad I didn’t see it before because I may have become a little obsessed. Which is surprising because I don’t historically have a tendency in that direction at all… *looks shifty*

One of the things that makes me think the film’s baseline concept – that an idea can be planted in someone’s mind – is all too believable is that the entire internet now seems completely fixated on the idea of slashing Arthur and Eames.

Not that I blame them. There’s a delicious flirty love/hate undercurrent to – well, pretty much all their interactions and they are both very, very attractive. Tom Hardy’s mouth in particular is an embossed, rsvp’d invitation to sin and when it’s combined with his voice

I’m sorry; I drifted off into my happy place for a moment there. Where were we?

Ah, yes – the world and its internet wife writing Arthur/Eames slash. I’ve read two or three (dozen) now and the quality of what I’ve seen so far is generally very good. And it’s a pairing that appears to inspire some incredibly filthy porn so I’d recommend seeing the film just for that, actually.

And in the face of all these lovely examples of smut, and the pretty-pretty that is the two boys, and the wonderful snarky tension of their relationship my own inevitable plot bunny is – surprise, surprise!!

Not about them.

No, I get a mostly gen plot bunny with a slight femmeslash undertone that’s mainly a character study of someone who gets about two lines in the film. Not sure what happened there.
 

This is actually a rewatch as I was able to join in the squeeing on Denial for the livewatch! *g*

Does this mean I will be more sober and slightly more sensible this time round, I hear you ask? *cracks open the wine* Let’s see, shall we?

Read more... )

Had a good discussion about 'Mad Men' with my feminist book (& other media) club tonight.

General agreement that it's hard to understand quite what the male/female dynamic was like back then - there's so many moments in the show where you just want to go 'WTF?' at people's attitudes. I've only watched the first two but am very keen to finish Series one. And then work my way through the rest!

It's so pleasant to watch a show that actually treats its audience as if they have, you know, brains and memories and the ability to see below the surface of actions and situations.

There was also general agreement that Joan is an impressive, magnificent goddess, though the group was split on whether they'd shag her or not. Some claimed that they'd be too scared and in awe. I fell into the 'but that's the attraction!' category :D

Most of us would do Don Draper as well.

* * *

So, I've done my usual and told someone in a comment chat that I'll totally be finishing that fic off this weekend! Yeah, they should look out for it!

Why do I have such an incredibly unrealistic mental view of my writing speed? Why do I say things like that when I know I've got... *looks at fic & does rough estimate* oooh, about 5,000 more words to write before this is done? 5,000 words of complete smut, which I know I find harder to write anyway?

And I've still got to do all the usual weekend stuff, and go to my bookgroup, and - oh yeah - I get distracted by writing about naked boys with snakes wrapped round them. :(
oddegg: (Black Books - bitches dance)
( Sep. 11th, 2010 10:59 pm)
...would an American teenager use the phrase 'brick it'? As in 'was very afraid to the point of shitting yourself'?

I dunno, it seems like a very British turn of phrase to me.

(this, for anyone interested, is related to the fact that I'm trying to finish off a sequel to one of my Glee fics. Also relevant to this is the fact that my Firefox tabs at the moment are full of information about anal beads, vibrators, lube and gay sex positions.) (That's the only reason those one's are open, I swear...)

* * *

Also, note to the (presumed) students downstairs:

Either choose some songs that are more compatible with my taste or learn some fucking chords!

Because having to listen to you mangle your way through the music, while you're singing death metal!?! - ...yeah. 'Torture' is too mild a word, dudes.

Just back from tonight's feminist book club meeting, for which we were reading 'Twilight'.

General consensus of the group? Stephanie Myers needs to die. (there may be some bias in my extrapolation of the discussion there, but not much)

Seriously - a more creepy, disturbing text I have never read. And badly written? Baring in mind that this thing has been through the hands of an editor! Christ, if this were posted up as a fan fic - even on the pit of voles - I think it would end up a cult classic to rival 'My Immortal' (and yes, I have been spending a lot of time on tv tropes recently. How could you tell?)

I think I've worked out why Bella is so clumsy and faints all the time though. I think that all the blood that should be used to power co-ordination has been diverted to the 'whiny, petulant bitch' part of her brain - a part that is so big that her DNA had to spontaneously invent TARDIS technology in order to fit the mass of it into her skull.

Am probably still going to read the rest of them and watch the films though. *facepalm* Integrity and taste = epic fail.

Edit - just started watching the 1st film and can I just say - girl who plays Rosalie? Whoever you are, you have a frickin' incredible ass. My compliments.

* * * 

And speaking of the TARDIS, did anyone else notice the enormous amount of Ho-Yay between the Doctor and Vincent in last night's episode or was that just me? It wasn't Amy's hand that he was holding to the end! *slash goggles firmly in place*

* * * 

And to continue the tv tropes theme - discovered yesterday that someone had referenced one of my fics on the Firefly Fetish Fuel page! 
My life is now complete...
oddegg: (Booze aint food)
( Jun. 10th, 2009 05:57 pm)
My 'Connor in a dress' fic is refusing to be PWP, damn its eyes! And my trichophilia Trek prompt is also threatening to zoom away from me at warp speed. :(
*glares at brain* Just come up with porn, fer feck's sake! We want none of this extraneous 'plot' shite.

* * *
Am currently eating Udon noodle salad and deriving far more satisfaction than is seemly in a life-long vegetarian from the fact that it's exactly like eating worms. *g*
I also have Edamame salad. Say it with me people - 'Mmmmm.... Edamame....'

* * *
Was slightly bummed on the way back from work to notice that some fuckwits painted over my favourite piece of graffiti (a brilliant werewolfy type figure in a shirt & tie). WTF? Why!?
Why paint over something that was funny and well done and made me smile when I saw it every morning, but leave all the tagging that's on the same street? It wasn't even like it was bang on the street - it was tucked away back off the road! But you leave the scribblings of morons and the bad misspellings of 'hoar'?
Graffiti can be amazing and intelligent and subversive. Tagging is the spray paint equivalent of standing in the road at 4am screaming your own name. I know which I'd rather have as part of my environment.

* * *
Someone is now following me on Twitter and I have NO idea why. I have posted once - total - a month ago and then swiftly realised I didn't quite understand how the damn thing worked and gave up.
Can only conclude that they made a mistake. Or they're psychic and I'm going to start twittering something very interesting in the future and they're planning on being ahead in the queue...
 
Cut below for - whoa - quite a lot of rather random ramblings, in which I ruminate. (I may be as easily distracted as a toddler shown a glitter ball, but at least I can alliterate, damn it)

Oh. And there's links to some meme fic I wrote as well.

And to kick it off...

* * *

Why do so many Indian boys seem to have absolutely no bum?

click... )

So, my major stressor of the past week is over and my mood has improved due to my carefully considered coping mechanisms of: a) Beer and b) reading huge amounts of slash fiction (Kirk/Spock from [livejournal.com profile] st_xi_kink   if you're interested)

Ahhhh, alcohol and porn. Is there nothing you can't solve?

(Well, DT's, liver failure and carpal tunnel syndrome from masturbating too much I suppose. But none of that lot is relevant to my interests. Yet)

* * *

Meanwhile, I have in my hand a piece of paper and - unlike Mr Chamberlain's - this is a good thing (and hopefully won't lead to WW3). This one means I am going to a Comic Day at Dundee on the 28th June!

THAT MEANS I GET TO MEET WARREN ELLIS PEOPLE!!!

I am very tempted to get one of these t-shirts for the occasion but I have a feeling that Mr Ellis may find it slightly disconcerting. (The comment is from a Topless Robot review of Warren's GI Joe cartoons btw)

* * *

I went to a cosmology lecture at the beginning of last week (and before all the stress - reasonably interesting but would have liked some more in depth info) and at one point as an illustration the lecturer showed two diagrams, one with dots scattered in a fairly even spread, one with less eveness and some dots huddled together. He then asked us which diagram was random and which showed evidence of grouping. Only about a quarter - including me - correctly thought the less even diagram was the random one.

The point of this rambling story ('there was a point?' 'yes, there was - shut up and let me get to it') is that I knew the answer not because I am a maths wizz but because I watch someone else play one on TV.

Yes - I got the answer right becuase Charlie did a similar demonstration in series 1 of 'Numb3rs'.

I can't quite decide if this comes under the relm of 'incredibly pathetic' or not (after all, the answer was right) but it is, at least, less disturbing than my being able to acurately tell the directionality of blood drop scatter on the pavement along Sauchiehall Street while walking home on a Friday night because of my 'CSI' obsession.

 

Just been to see the Wolverine Origins film.
My incredibly in depth review? *holds out hand, waggles up and down* Meh. 

Don't get me wrong, Hugh is, as usual, sideburned sex on sex masquerading as legs with an added layer of sex on top. And Liev isn't bad either. But general feel was a bit slapdash. 

Oh well, have to see what Star Trek's like instead (which I am looking forward to like 'Woh!')

* * *
I have seen a couple of episodes of The Big Bang Theory and now have a horrible temptation to search for Sheldon/Leonard slash fic.

And speaking of slash fic, I am so glad certain Primeval writers have senses of humour. . .

* * *

HAPPY BIRTHDAY [livejournal.com profile] mysteriousaliwz !!!!

I haven't finished blackening your name in the fairytale fic yet, but hugs and kisses till then!
oddegg: (Black Books - bitches dance)
( Apr. 20th, 2009 05:59 pm)
In the Co-op on my way home (to buy wholemeal pitta and cheese - yes, like Dorothy Parker's, my life is an endless cycle of song) and had a sudden and horrible temptation to write RPS slash about the cashiers. Horrible because these guys - whilst wonderful people, I'm sure -  are not the kind you want to be picturing naked; greasy haired and hollow-cheeked or badly tattooed name on the arm with a vacant look on the face that says 'that is MY name - I have it there so I can remember it, and I've nearly saved up for the reading lessons that will - hopefully - teach me what it says'
The third one looks as close as a human can get to a chipmunk. An ugly, slightly squashed chipmunk.

Why them brain? Why not the guys in the health food shop across the road? The spanish guy's ok in a stringy, 'roadie for ZZ-Top' sort of way and yes, the other one looks like a milder version of Frankie Boyle but I find that kind of hot (I'm strange, alright? *rolls eyes* You know that about me now) The 'beefcake done Amish style' one obviously hates me for some reason - I don't know, maybe I inadvertently insulted the concept of hemp at some point - but I could at least write a whump fic about him as payback.

But no - I think about the Co-op munters getting it on while the 60 yr old West Indian security guard looks on stonily. *sigh*

* * *

It's warm! Spring is sprung!

I can tell because suddenly my system goes from: 'lunchtime choice = stodge with a stodge filling and a side order of stodge, please' to 'a bag of raw peas! That's exactly what I wanted! I will eat them with a spoon *happy smile*'


Possibly spoilers; mainly just general ranting but - you know - cut anyway...

Read more... )
oddegg: (chad - bwnekkidsmoking)
( Mar. 5th, 2009 09:23 pm)

There are three school boys who go part of the same way as me on my way into work in the morning and I’m finding them more and more amusing. 

They’re proper little Glasgae lads; around 11 years old, wearing as much sports wear as they can get away with under the school rules. And they’re loud and they’re boisterous and they’ve got their hair cropped short ‘intae the wood’ apart from the tallest who has a proto-mohawk-come-flattop thing going on.

And they’re complete, total slashtastic little drama queens.

Example: Boy 1 and boy 2 (who have emerged as the bff’s of the trio over time) are today scuffling and wrestling with each other. Boy 1 gets boy 2 into a headlock and exclaims “Aye! Who’s the daddy, bitch!” Boy 2 tells him (slightly muffled) to ‘get tae fuck’ and boy 1 begins knuckling his head. 

Boy 3? Gives a huge, put upon sigh and asks immensely wearily
“Will youse two just shag already? The tension’s getting unbearable”

Oh, boys!! *draws sparkly heart around all three*
I am very tempted to tell them to look me up in 8 to 10 years if they ever need a fag-hag, the little darlings.

* * * 

And speaking in an entirely non-creepy and not-dubious-at-all way of children, my book groups text tonight was ‘Novel on Yellow Paper’ by Stevie Smith for my book group and while it’s wonderful (of course it is, it’s Stevie) this particular bit is so brilliant that I’m going to have to quote it at you.
“Prunella got the children right on to the right books. You know the stuff they slop out to the little B.B.C. brattery? So wide-eyed and daisy-sweet, and solemn-young and sweet sweet smell of childhood, as Medea said, the moment she jabbed the knife into the couple of them to spite Jason. But of course they were never married. My dear, that makes all the difference. Only an emotional careerist could have run off with a foreigner and – hang the wedding. And we all know what emotional careerists are like when there are knives left lying around.”

*GRIN*

* * *

Conversational segue on the tube I wish I'd been party to:
woman sitting down: "...because my mum was all set to marry my biological dad's second cousin but then he died of cancer..."
*tube starts up, conversation becomes inaudible due to noise, tube reaches next stop 1 minute later*
same woman: "...I'll eat Indian food at a restaurant but I don't like it as a takeaway..."

....?

In recent times I have, occasionally, begun to view my life as proof of the existence of God.
In much the same way as Job's was.
Only without the happy ending.

I only wish that this proof would cause the interfering bastard to vanish in a puff of logic, a la Douglas Adam's Babel Fish theorem.

* * *

I have also managed to prove, yet again, that signing up to write a fic to a certain deadline is an absolute, sure-fire, solid guarantee that something will happen to prevent me doing so: work giving me the equivalent of an ass-fucking without benefit of reach-around; contracting a viral infection that leads me to feel euthanasia would be both a valid and a humane option; bloody computer problems again; terminal malaise; all of the above plus general apocalypse.
You know - the usual. 

Also, I'm having existential doubt about the 'Tremors' re-write. It's kind of finished but I can't see the point in it anymore.

* * *

The things you learn from new technology, eh? I have been playing with him-indoors new digital camera - including self portrait settings - and have learnt:
 - That slight widening of the eyes thing I do? The one that's meant to indicate 'Yes, I'm listening and it's fascinating. Do go on'?
It makes me look like a nut-job. A nut-job of Charlie Manson/Jim Jones/David Icke proportions and I must never, ever do it again. Ever. (And no, I'm not posting a visual)
 - OMFG, I have approximately five million chins and am seriously tempted to spend the rest of my life with my jumper pulled up to my nose, like Wilfred out of the Bash Street Kids.
 - Mr oddegg looks quite like Daniel Craig, especially now I've seen pics of Danny boy with a beard. Imagine an Italian Daniel Craig with dark, curly hair. And, IMHO, a nicer bum. (And no, you don't get a visual of that either)


Sweet jeebus – I’ve had the equivalent of about 10 shots of espresso today and I've been munching on chocolate covered coffee beans and now I’m twitching like a frickin’ tweaker. 
I may, in fact, be vibrating at a high enough frequency to enable me to see into extra dimensions – I cannot decide whether to remedy this situation with copious amounts of tequila gold now, or wait till the little silver beings I’m seeing have finished explaining their method of interstellar travel. Maybe they’d be interested in doing body shots…

* * *

The barista at Café Nero is scary, scary efficient – kind of like a Cylon would be if they were into coffee instead of eliminating all humans. (and who can guess what boxset I’ve bought now, hmm?)

* * * 

Now, my feelings regarding bagpipe players have been made clear before but we’ve had the World Piping Contest on about 500yards away from the office all week and, seriously, all the fuckers deserve kneecapping and long, slow, painful evisceration.
For starters.

* * *

Boy on the tube – all shaven, bullet headed, tattoos and chains, combats and shit-kicking boots, proclaimed by his shirt to be ‘Certificate 18: Probably Offensive’
…offers his seat to the shopping-laden matriarch with such a shy smile.

* * * 

I booked an ‘A. Khan’ onto an event earlier and now I’ve got William Shatner bellowing “Khaaaannn!!” in my head. I hate my head.

Tags:
Tra la la!
I'm feeling very happy today. A very pleasant reminder that I can.

Gorgeous weather? Check.
Cheesy balls and cream soda to consume? Check.
Reformatted-and-so-now-working portable hard-drive with about 3 solid years worth of music to listen to on it? Check and double check.
Art shows and comic book storyboarding workshops to go to tomorrow? Yay! Check!

Also check - I bought a book of gay porn short stories today that was only £2.99! All about tattoos... :) well, helloooo solid gold kink of mine! 
And maybe reading porn writen by actual gay guys will give me some pointers on how to improve my own, not that impressive porn writing.

I meant to write this evening, I really did but my brain is just twirling round and around with its fingers in its ears going 'La la la! No work today, the sun is shining, la la la!' - useless, workshy bastard that it is. (and yes, I do realise that thinking of my own brain as a separate entity to myself is a bit strange. Especially as I'm picturing it wearing a pink, sparkly 'Princess' t-shirt at the moment)

And so, in honour of timewasters everywhere, a meme! Ganked from trollprincess, who I believe originally ganked it from apetslife. 

Anyone who was intrigued by my talk of Top Gear slash should read this fic by [profile] the_fun_monkey
It's not actually slash, and its sort of a Supernatural crossover, but I'm reccing it anyway because its hilarious and the tone is spot on.

*** 
I've spent all day with the lines "Be not too hard / For life is short / And nothing is given to man" going round and round in my head. Except I was blanking on the 'too hard' part and I couldn't remember who it was by. I assumed it was a poem.
Googled it just now and it turns out that its lyrics to a song by Manfred Mann's Earth Band. Who I've never heard of. 

My mind does this so often, comes up with ragged, half remembered lines that have been dredged up, Coelacanth like, from the depths of my memory; all torn and battered from the change in pressure.

*** 
I was half paying attention to the England game that mr oddegg was watching and I saw Peter Crouch warming up and thought "I wonder if there are people who slash football players out there"
And a quick search of LJ reveals that, yes - there are.

But I'm not going to be reading any of it.

*** 
I've just started reading a non-fiction book about exorcism's in America and have gone 
"Hmmm. I could add this idea to my J2 AU 'based around an entire album' fic that is the idea I chose NOT to go with for BigBang but which I shall be writing as well as J2 AU partly-epistolary 'based on a childrens book' fic I decided on"
So I now have to research exorcisms and Southern Baptist beliefs as well as US college practices, foster home practices and under-age sex workers.

I shouldn't read. Or think.
 
oddegg: (beak face)
( Nov. 24th, 2007 03:14 pm)
Randomness from a night out.

1) If you have bluetooth, even though it may seem very funny at the time you should not make yourself come up on others phones as either 'Suck Me Beautiful' or 'Call Me Its Huge'. We will just mock you.

2) Yes, the bar may have a horror theme, but playing chain-saw sound effects in the toilets is still a bad idea. Especially when your patrons may have been discussing classic slasher movies earlier.

3) "It's not a good start to the week when the first thing you see on Monday morning is pigeons eating the vomit outside TGI Fridays"

4) Chasing 4 beers with your sleeping pill in defiance of the packet warning works like a charm and knocks you out, but the next day in the supermarket it does leave you staring into space, twisting the trolley handle and making 'brrmm-brrmm' noises to yourself, so perhaps this is an experiment not to repeat that often. 
And in other news - drugs are crap.
I thought the point of sleeping pills was to, you know, make you sleep? Not do bugger all about the fact you're awake all night BUT make you dopey the next day.

Am so beyond tired its starting to be amusing. I'm just waiting for someone to introduce themself as Tyler Durban on the tube now - maybe if we blow up a financial district I'll be able to get some sleep? (though not if it means going anywhere near Helen Bonham Carter, even with a specially emo, black-painted barge pole I'm not touching that)

But in good news I think I've started a friend on the slippery slope to fandom! We were discussing tv shows and books and talk got onto Harry Potter; I told her about some of the fanfiction I'd read and gave her some links to good Snarry ones. I may have briefly mentioned Wincest and Eppescest as well.

Her: well, I'll have a look but I dont see whats so good about two guys getting it on.
Me: *evil cackle* Oh, you will, my pretty, you will!

OK, I may have left off the 'my pretty' and I didn't threaten to get my flying monkey's (even though, cool! - flying monkey's!)
.

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