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Friday, July 25th, 2008
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2:45 - big
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Labour just lost Glasgow East to the SNP. Wowsers.
ION, I had a somewhat lousy time out tonight with a couple of old friends, one of whom was just incessantly bloody aggressive / insulting / nit-picky from start to end, I have no idea why but damn it was annoying. Now have monster headache - mish-mash of close weather and something I ate or drank. Also turns out, from having to actually walk around a bit today, that the knee recovery wasn't quite as quick and easy as I'd figured. No pills for now, though, I'm glugging too many painkillers these days, one way or another. Time to give my poor guts a break.
Anyway, I've been perked up by various Torchwood-related kibble online this evening, including some fun stuff from the Comic-Con panel. Gareth greets the assembled audience with the shocker? Ackkk, that man is made of twelve-year-old, seriously. Still, ohbabylookatthearrrrrrrms, rrrrrrrr. Also, more rrrrrr, that little hairy belly... God I'm cheap. Also, him and Barrowman in twinny-clothes makes my own inner twelve-year-old strangely happy. As do some of the prospects for Season Wee!Three that seem to be emerging, yus, go Ianto!
::rubs cheap hands gleefully::
current mood:  awake
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(17 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008
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19:58 - Hello Dolly!
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::points at icon:: New haircut, oddly almost identical to where I was at about three years ago, hair-wise. I've decided it's time once again to embrace my inner genetic deformity, so what's left of the colour is being gradually cropped out. Although I am going to continue to dye my brows and lashes a nice unnatural brown-black, because if I don't, those squinty little albino eyes vanish completely off my face. Principles vs vanity, always such a tussle!
Gah, what is this - Bonglickers' revenge?
Brain is having a content-free day today, and the whole of the internets are wall-to-wall spoodge out there - stay on your own flists, guys! Watch what you're treading in! I'm quietly happy that it's apparently wankerama season in both of the fandoms I have any interest in these days, and I've had absolutely nothing to do with any of it whatsoever. Ahh sweet innocence - definitely an improvement on the good old days. Maybe it's because I'm getting old enough, at last, not to jump fist-first into any and every dogpile I see.
Probably more because I basically don't care enough about what goes on out there. And around here, in Chateau Riv, I just banninate the arse off anyone I happen to come across who irritates me by hanging around with tiresome people, inherent twattyness, or just not being sufficiently nice about Ianto to satisfy my itchy little requirements in that respect. Sometimes, and I know this is going to come as a shock to y'all, but I ban perfect strangers for no good reason whatsoever! The way I see it, they have the rest of the whole world wide web to play in, so it's not exactly a great constraint of liberty to be shuuuuuunned from this particular magical Candy Mountain.
Oh, in case anyone wonders - can't imagine they would, however - if I post a fic online, anyone and everyone is welcome to criticise the living daylights out of it. Pull it to bits, trample on its intestines, mock my over-use of adverbs and dashes, and my sugary fatal fondness for utterlybutterly woobiefying the characters I love. I'll read anything anyone wants to write about anything I've written, guaranteed! I may even pay heed, if the critcisms are articulate and/or substantiated. I mean, I might also ban their bitter, critical arse from here, but I'd never try to deny anyone the right to express their views - they might just have to do it somewhere else, that's all. Trying to prevent it unilaterally seems kind of futile to me, for one thing. And I'm not going to post any fic publicly, or even f-locked, unless I'm reasonably confident that it's robust in itself. Otherwise, how could I expect anyone else to even waste their time reading it in the first place?
One sort of related question. I've never really done anything coherent about systematically listing everything I've written and posted on lj. I haven't actually turned out very much, for one thing! Also feel a bit squicky about coming across as pimping myself. But in the interests of not being so random and bolshy, should I do something about that? Something on the Profile page, maybe? Big stickypost? Something else? Or just not bother and get on with actually finishing the current one instead!
current mood:  dorky
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(24 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008
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23:18 - Bonglickers 1,03
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Yes, I went there. SHUT UP! It was ever so edumacational this week, and that was even when I mercifully watched most of it on fast-forward.
( What did we learn at archaeology school today? )
I may have missed a few gems, but like I say,I was spanking the crap out of the ff button on this one. When Burn shows up (next week or the week after), I think there's a real risk that I'm actually going to cry.
current mood:  distressed
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(14 seedlings | grow your own)
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12:52 - "We're being pursued! By gas!"
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I came across this nice picture today of David Tennant in rehearsal at Stratford (for Hamlet, I'm guessing: can't remember if Patrick Stewart's in both Tennant productions?) Now I'm looking forward to seeing Hamlet like billyoh, and I'm full of warm genuine admiration for DT and his utterly spiffy acting skills. And the picture has Patrick Stewart in it too, so there's no bad here in any sense.
However, even though I loooove Tennant, and think his Doctor is the best ever (and I didn't start out like that - the bastard has seduced me completely in the last three years), I don't actually fancy the man. It's not his looks (perfectly beguiling) - or his personality (which I don't know at all, but he's a great big fanboy so that's good enough in my book).
No, I think the answer lies in this picture... ( Exhibit A )
For comparative purposes, the nearest thing I had to hand (well, The Institute, since I lost all my painstaking collection of porny screencaps when the hard drive squinched on me) was ( Exhibit B, and B(i) and B(ii) )
ETA - I should add, if any of you feel strongly enough motivated by this topic of great academic significance, to provide more exhibits in the comments for, you know, serious comparative purposes, then that would be most helpful. And not at all smutty or pervy, oh dear no!
At the back of my mind today, apart from this very serious scientific study of... engines, is the great metaphysical dilemma of whether I should sit down to watch Bonglickers for the third week in a row, or put that hour to some slightly less insane use by, oh, boiling my head or learning to crochet using a well-greased stoat. I can't even be guided by The Times' TV previews this week, as David Chater's already given up and gone to put a head-sized pot on the stove, the weakling! Here's what the Radio Times has to say:
"Having pontificated on 18th-century slavery and grumbled over the Knights Templar, this week's case sees the team confronted by a historical puzzler of hitherto unimaginable unpleasantness. Namely, gas. And not just any gas, either. Oh, no. This is vengeful gas. Vengeful gas that carries with it the stench of ancient Roman duplicity and the curiously cabbage-y hum of lines like "We're being pursued! By gas!" Following a series of mysterious, gas-related rumblings in Bath, the archaeologists delve beneath the city's Roman baths to explore a secret Celtic burial chamber. There follows a colossally silly caper involving collapsing tunnels, explosions, dust, a jawbone, and an ancient tale of doomed romance featuring shrieking extras in travel blankets. And gas. It's basically Raiders of the Lost Bath. In Bath. And it's crackers."
I wish my willpower was strong enough to resist the siren call of pure, unadulterated prime-time bollocks, but I think I may have already lost this struggle. Helllp!
current mood:  silly
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(44 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Saturday, July 19th, 2008
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17:20 - OW!
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Spent yesterday in Oxford with my old mate C, not doing anything lairy, just walking around town, bit of shopping, bit of eating, very modest (by our standards) bit of drinking, general catching up. Nice day, though my knee - the same one I fell over and smashed the bejasus out of two months ago - was aching a bit by the end. Which is fine, because it's done that from time to time since the fall, but the aches always went away and anyway, I yomped all over hill and dale in Lyme the other week with no problems.
This morning, I woke up feeling like someone dropped a spare universe on my leg in the night. OW OW OW. So I've just had a short trip to A&E, and the diagnosis is that I've torn the meniscus (fancy term for knee cartilage, apparently). God knows how - I don't remember wrenching it at all in the last few days - but I'll tell you what, it is buggering agony! They've given me a rather generous prescription for the super-funsize painkillers, and I'm about to eat something, then gratefully take a couple and sink into a lovely pain-free, high-as-a-kite stupor, om nom nom.
So if I turn up ehere later off my face and posting like a giggling lunatic, you'll know why.
current mood:  OW!
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(9 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Tuesday, July 15th, 2008
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22:18 - Bonglickers 1.02
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Holy wobbling crapcakes, Batman - it WAS worse! I mean, ghastly beyond words. So leaden, so ham-fistedly exposition-stuffed! Oh the 405923625496060 completely fucking impossible coincidences! Oh, the sheer moments of clunking awful nonsense, about one every four minutes, where I had to just stuff my fists into my mouth and yelp with horror!
Poor Hugh, I am sweating for you here, and not in the good way.
Oh, and ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) flatlanddan? I think you left Excalibur off that achaeological wank-bank wishlist they seem to be ticking off. Tsk, how remiss of you! Still,double bonus points if it turns out to have been given to King Arthur by aliens. With this show, that has to be odds-on.
current mood:  can't even
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(12 seedlings | grow your own)
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17:54 - dreg
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Oh dear! It's like being sucked down a plughole straight into the sewers, this feeling that I won't be able to stop myself watching Bonglickers again tonight. Last week's opener blew chunks of such magnitude that I simply can't believe they can match it - yet here's The Times' David Chater (a man who loved and rec'd every single Torchwood ep this season) on tonight's volley of garbage: "After getting off to a memorably awful start last week, does Bonekickers get any better tonight? The answer, unfortunately, is no. If anything, it is even worse [...] Bonekickers takes itself seriously, with sunsets and orchestral music and talk of destinies needing to be embraced. Michael Maloney and Hugh Bonneville - two of our most accomplished actors - do what they can to inject a little humour into the proceedings, but they don't stand a chance."
Even worse? Them be fightin' words, Davy boy! And I do love a challenge. Also, the sight of real actual sunlight outside today went to my head, and I made the mistake of trotting all over town for an hour this afternoon to pick up a prescription - think I've given myself sunstroke. That'll be my excuse for watching! I'm just too weak to do anything but prop myself up on my pillows, sip elderflower cordial, and boggle.
Still, at least so far none of the female leads have been faced with a crappy leering excuse plot requiring them to strip off and do all the housework in crop top and skimpy panties, so I guess it hasn't quite gone as low as it can. Yet.
current mood:  apathetic
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(16 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Monday, July 14th, 2008
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15:36 - burn & shine
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I never said much about my holiday in Lyme Regis, probably because I don't have anything terribly thrilling to say! Also, I knocked my camera's default settings to "candlelight" on the second day without noticing, so all my sunny beachside shots have come out dreadful, damn it. I've re-tinted a couple and stuck them behind this handy cut ( with a bit of blurb anyway )
Basically, I went away, got sunburnt, ate a ton of food, drank a lot and argued a bit. Are you surprised? It was all pretty good, apart from fecking Exeter.
It's also been a good weekend for Torchwood odds and sods, enough so that the few hints of things in Season Three are making me really happy and wriggly this week (don't worry, next week I'm sure I'll have changed my mind again...) Excellent news from James Moran, that he was the dark master behind the BBC America Captain's Logs - this after playing Mister Slyboots and denying all knowledge of them at the Rift only a couple of months ago, the cunning stoat! Written by a man who seemed to be thinking like a Jack/Ianto-worshipping hardcore fangirl - this has to be at least a bit encouraging for his involvement with Season Three scripts, right? Well, obviously not encouraging if you're one of the five bitter-arsed people in Torchwood fandom who loathes Ianto, to whom it must all be a bit galling and to whom I'd just like to say HA HA HA, FECKERS!
The same five people are also going to be mighty cheesed off that Gareth appears to be cementing his slow but inexorable path to world domination (HA HA HA, FECKERS!), by apparently seducing the whole of the Polaris convention, using nothing but an irresistible combination of charm, hotness, accent, wit and gratuitous use of tiny cute dogs as an impromptu stage prop, causing dead bats and exploding ovaries all over the audience and much of livejournal too, it seems.
The shine has kind of come off my own GDL adoration these days - I find the mood swings and inconsistent behaviour too perplexing to get my head around. Still, I love what he does with Ianto, and he's become amazingly adroit at fangirl-wrangling in the space of just over a year, so in a massively conflicted way I'm glad that he went down so well (fnarr!) on his first trip across the pond. And even if the shameless puppy-fondling left me unmoved, I have to admit that I laughed a bit too much at his response to the Q&A question "What do you look for in a woman?" Ohh Gareth. So cute, so handsome, so witty and charming and successful: what a tragedy all that isn't enough for meeee, eh!
current mood:  relaxed
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(27 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Sunday, July 13th, 2008
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20:47 - finishing line
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Ooh, FINALLY I can see the end of my Sarah Jane story in sight! Nothing quite like that feeling, when you've been galumphing and galumphing along forever and then you hit a corner and, OMG, it's the last corner before home stretch! Okay, I have a couple more hedges to jump, but they're manageable. I've even managed to work out how not to have the whole thing jossed by Journey's bloody End!
It's at c.16,600 right now. I'm thinking 20,000 should finish it off. Hmm, maybe 22,000? Definitely nowhere near 25k! And I've only been working on it since... ooh, only October 2007? In the annals of riv output, that's positively frolicsome.
May need to get a new keyboard, though, which is a bummer. I go through keyboards like a hot hard thing going through a soft melty yielding thing. The current one lights up from below, which has been a real blessing to me for making the keys visible -and yes, after eleven million years, I'm still more or less typing by sight rather than touch. However, this one's spacebar has started to jam every third hit, even after I prised it off and cleaned all the gagh out from under it. And I'd rather be in the position of actually choosing whether I want to type arunonsentenceforamusing/dramaticeffectjustlikethis.
Hey, no word yet from Bad Wolf? Where are all the tales of Kai Owen's wild debauchery? Almost as important, all the Season Three SPOILERS, damn it? Polaris is proving to be, hmm, far more fruitful in that respect. Are we to let the Canucks and their guests beat us Brits?
(Sekrit message to tya_rc: still completely ARGH.)
current mood:  chipper
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(4 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Friday, July 11th, 2008
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13:12 - safe vs right
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| Thursday, July 10th, 2008
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20:34 - spam spam SPAM!
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Ugh, sorry to spam! Stupid question girl today. Does anyone know what the alien werewolves who thingummied Queen Victoria in "Tooth and Claw" were called? Did we ever find out their name - as opposed to just "that bloke in a cage / the kinky looking monks who the Doctor thought were frolicking around with Lord MacLeish while his wife was away."
In order to make this slightly less of a pointless post, here's a link, for anyone who hasn't seen this yet, to Photoshop Disasters, just a blog where people post amazingly crap photoshopped images in magazines, adverts, etc. It updates several times a week, and is well worth a browse and a boggle at some of the incredible rubbish that gets put out there by, in some cases, fancy-fancy organisations that really should be doing much better. (Chanel, whhaugh?) Warning: you may be slightly horrified by the fact that somewhere, in a darkened back bedroom, some incompetent banana actually got PAID for producing this or that image.
May 1st is probably my favourite so far! By no means the worst, but there's something about those enormous daisy wellies that just cracks me up every time. Beautiful!
current mood:  spammy
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(6 seedlings | grow your own)
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18:08 - work-in-progress request
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Just a quickie - does anyone happen to have to hand the text for that "Welcome to Torchwood" intro that was almost probably definitely on the Season One official website, somewhere in the bonkers Hub interface section? I want a handy cutnpaste of the blurb about "Founded by Queen Boudicca in AD 46 to repel the alien hordes encroaching on the Iceni borders..." I seem to remember something like this, either standalone or part of an email from Ianto to Gwen, a kind of Torchwood Newbie 101.
Did this really exist or am I going even more off the pulpy end than usual today? Must be the lovely midsummer weather we've been having. Everything outside my house smells of damp old churchyard.
Ooh - and I'd love that Battle of Canary Wharf write-up too, if anyone knows where that might be? Now that DEFINITELY definitely existed!
current mood:  damp
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(7 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Wednesday, July 9th, 2008
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21:13 - it's the little things that count
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Torchwood recs, ah. ( And why I don't do them all that often )
So, having had a good old whinge, here's a story I just read and can recommend without any caveats whatsoever. Four Times Donna Almost Remembered, and One Where She Did, by cjedwards. It's DW / TW crossover, post both the S2 / S3 finales, and it's spot-on, a lovely close piece of writing that's still human and warm, and the end did something to me that very, very few fics ever do. Go, read, enjoy! And then could everyone please write me lots more more just as lovely good intelligent spot-on, bash-free, crap-free Torchwood fic, please?
current mood:  impressed
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(12 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Tuesday, July 8th, 2008
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22:27 - rebuilding trust...
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Oh Hugh Bonneville. You're a fucking good actor, really you are. So I'm just wondering what heinous act of unpardonable vileness you must have committed in that previous life. Or did you just break a mirror the size of Bratislava some time in the last decade? Oh, oh, my brutalised eyes!
I've just sat through the first episode of Bonekickers*, a new BBC - I was about to say 'drama', but that would be shamefully misleading. At last, a show that makes Robin Hood look like Edge of Darkness by comparison. To quote Catherine Tate for the second time this week, What a load of old SHIT!
And aired on the day when the BBC's Annual Report revealed grotesquely huge pay rises and bonuses for its Executive Board. Including "BBC Vision director Jana Bennett [who] saw her total pay package increase by more than £103,000 to £536,000."
"Vision" Director! Fuck me. Fuck me! Public service broadcasting, my arse.
(*I actually first typo-ed this as "Bonelickers", which is at least 500% more amusing and alluring than the show itself. Don't even kid yourself that this might be one of those "so bad it's good" things. It really is only worth watching because it beggars belief how anyone could have brought such a steaming great bucket of utter wank into existence. Hugh Bonneville... Adrian Lester's in it too! It's all rather depressing. Thank God I have some toast on the go downstairs.)
current mood:  annoyed
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(33 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Saturday, July 5th, 2008
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20:02 - DW - Journey's End
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17:58 - any sense of time
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Hello chaps! I've been away at the seaside for the last week - bollixed up my packing a bit last weekend and didn't have time to post before I went! It was all very nice, even with the occasional bits where I wanted to keeeeeeeeeel my mother, but who doesn't have those?
We went to Lyme Regis, which is much prettier than I'd been expecting, and also almost as odd as Portland. Ah, the good old South-West, where "Inbred!" "No, you're the fucking inbred!" hollered back and forth by a couple of giggling waitresses, is the insult of choice. Lyme is Fossil Central in the UK: I've, ahem, liberated a couple of hand-sized stones from Monmouth Beach in the hope that I'll tap them open and find perfectly preserved baby pterosaur remains in every one, though the odds on this are probably not great. Still, I have some nice ear-rings and a charming bracelet, and of course the usual haul of naff photos.
Oh, and the weather was delicious all week, so I also have a delicate hint of crispy sunburn on the collarbones, and an atrocious headache after a hot day driving back in a hot car. TMI time might also have something to do with that, mind you. Anyway, I haven't unpacked at all - too busy squishing Spot mightily (yes, he survived too!) Have also noshed a couple of Anadin, had a bath and I'm now thinking warily about some food to fill the gap between now and that thing 50 42 minutes from now that just about everyone on my flist is also counting down to.
Seriously, you couldn't move over here in the last few days without running into blather on the telly or in the papers about The Doctor Who Finale and What Might Happen. It was even in the BBC's main news bulletins last night, would you believe! Hordes of traumatised media types unable to grasp the notion of absolutely no preview tapes, spoilers, hints or nudges being leaked out to them, no matter who they are. I'm just stuffed with admiration for RTD and the gang and the craft of keeping a whole season's endgame completely under lock and key. Awesomecakes!
Right, jacket potato methinks, cup of tea, and I'll be ready to settle down eight inches from the TV screen. I'M MODERATELY EXCITED, Y'ALL! (and I bet you are too!)
current mood:  home
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(3 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Wednesday, June 25th, 2008
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14:57 - <3 blobs
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Like the Torchwood premiere, it seems as if the Beeb is dribbling out tempting little blobs of this season's Doctor Who finale - the one I don't really care about, of course, because I'm weaning myself of all fandom (and for those of you snickeruing cynics out there, I'd like to point out that, since April, I've staunchly gone nowhere near anything stalkerrific, despite having the means and the opportunity, so I think that's all knocked on the head at last! And if I can stop poodling, I can stop anything.)
Anyway, tra la la I don't care... right until I see things like today's blob - here in an access-all-postcodes format, I believe - and it's like the quicksand of Leurve! I'm watching and making little squeaky noises and it's all really very, very sad. And by 'it' I mean 'me'.
So, bollocks to Doctor Who and ( a vaguely spoilery comment! ) Instead, here are a couple of pictures of Spot, looking like a pretty, kitteny little prince even though he's 84 in comparative years, and his breathing is becoming more laboured and, quite honestly, half the time he forgets what he's doing or why, which would be fine if the things he's forgetting weren't stuff like, well, eating. Or that he's just eaten five minutes ago.
It's his birthday right about now. I have a morbid fear he's going to keel over while I'm on holiday, when in truth he'll probably just sleep the week away quite contentedly. Anyway, he's my little monster and he's still pretty happy, I think. Still pooping like the Play-Doh Cat Pooh Factory, too. How can one small cat possibly shit so much, every day?
( What no LOLs? )
current mood:  lovey
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(35 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Tuesday, June 24th, 2008
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22:30 - ding dong!
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Awww, Teh Hew! You really did get married down the road from me - in the very same little market town where I went to school for seven years, indeed! and lost my cherry, but we'll keep quiet about that as that didn't actually happen on the school premises, thank God
I'm going to think of that as your deliberate and wholly intentional homage to me. Because I am cracked that way!
Also, you're looking SO MUCH HOTTER in the wedding photos than you do in most of the asstastic SGA promo shots I've ever seen. Awwwww. I'd like to be a grumpy old hardnose about this, but they do all look very charmingly sweet, don't they!
current mood:  amused
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(17 seedlings | grow your own)
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17:31 - pulses
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| Saturday, June 21st, 2008
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19:48 - Doctor Who
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| Monday, June 16th, 2008
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16:37 - hey little car
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Thought I'd post a slightly rubbish explanation of what heaven_is_yours is and how it works here, for anyone new to this journal and my oh-so-not-confusing-at-all ways. Oh, and because I ACTUALLY POSTED SOME MORE NEW ALCHEMY! 6,000 words and change, indeed! All guaranteed completely action-free!
Big thanks to darthhellokitty for midnight cheerleading and general pimpery, as ever. I think you're right about this kiss, by the way. But we shall find out further down the line...
Oh - strange thing just now. ( Strange and rambly... )
ETA -you know what? Horoscopes are so bloody confusing! You go to them expecting a roadmap and all you get is more things for your brain to unravel over. This is part of today's, for example: Right now, you can gain something very substantial if you act on what you feel, not what you "feel you ought to feel!" Which is lovely and positive and helpful - except how do I know which one is the one I'm really feeling, and which is the feeling I feel I ought to be feeling? confused. Also, trying not to go back down the negative path: honestly, I'm stronger than this, i really am.
current mood:  relieved
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(11 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Friday, June 13th, 2008
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14:23 - Riv Feels Pretty
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I'm being surprisingly good, for me - not to mention respectful of due democratic process. 1,600 more New Alchemy last night! God I love this story, I really do [/shameless]. It's my Torchwood Mills and Boon and I don't give a damn. They've just had a little - well, maybe I shouldn't say, wouldn't want to spoil the thrill! As soon as I finish the part that comes after that part, I'll post it. Oh, though I'd also like to get you to once-over it as usual first, darthhellokitty, if that's OK?
Since I'm being so good - and even getting a microscopic amount of proper salaried work done at the same time - I'm in the mood to fritter away some Friday afternoon watching good Torchwood vids. Any recommendations? What's your favourite / guilty pleasure / love the song / makes you laugh?
My fave is under the cut - I've pimped it before, but I love re-watching it! The perfect combination of a witty, capricious song about how love makes you do the wacky, together with an excellent selection of clips, cut and matched really beautifully with both lyrics and melody. Also, it showcases one of the reasons Ianto is Torchwood's breakout character: yes, Gareth is absurdly pretty playing him, but he's also superbly, subtly expressive without looking like he's gurning or trying to steal scenes. I was watching Greeks Bearing Gifts last night (writing prep!) and that moment when Mary's in the Hub, stroking herself and purring, And how I loved this body! So soft, so wicked... and the camera cuts to Ianto's utterly deadpan face, and then his eyebrow quirks like a moth-wing, the tiniest of reactions... Lovely!
Anyway, anyway... Torchwood vids: ( It's alarming how charming! ) So, what's your favourite? Pimp away!
(I might even consider looking at non-Torchwood vids... it is Friday, and I'm feeling feckless and distractible!
current mood:  charming
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(8 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Thursday, June 12th, 2008
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13:11 - bits
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Nice to see a letter in the Times yesterday setting out a good articulate rebuttal to Jonathan Miller's snooty-fest about West End roles being given to horrid little no-name celebs off the telly. In the paper - but alas, not in the online version - there was also a picture of a ridiculously young and foofy-haired Tennant playing Romeo at the RSC, and it made me wrack my brain: was that the production where the lovers were starkers at one point? Or was that just Juliet? Or was it another production I'm thinking of?
It's funny how customs change. When I first started going to the theatre, the Big Shocky Thing was still full-frontal female nudity - lots of poor skinny actresses coerced into flashing a bit of muff in the name of Art. But that seemed to become passé after a while, replaced by male nudity, and the more random and gratuitous the better. I saw David Morrisey playing Peer Gynt at the National, with a scene set in the asylum where various mad inmates ambled around him as he delivered his lines... including one bloke who wandered all over the place, blithely naked from the waist down (that being what all certified mad people do, of course). I don't think a single person in the audience paid any attention to poor David - we were all just going OMG, that man's BITS are just dangling out there, bloody hell! Or was that just me and my trusty monocular? Seriously, though, I've seen way, way more cock on stage than tits and ladygarden, and I don't think it's just because I've accidentally scoured the reviews to make sure that I picked knob-centric productions.
Thinking about it, though, maybe that's also the case for TV and films. Again, when I was first allowed to stay up past the watershed and watch grown-up stuff like The Sweeney and late-night movies on TV, it all seemed to be tits, tits, tits everywhere. These days... I can't remember the last time I saw a pair of breasts in any kind of drama production on TV - or film for that matter - but some weeks you can't move for cock, or men's arses. This isn't a complaint! Shallow Unlimited here, remember. It just seems an odd thing - am I only remembering the male nudity and blanking out the female? But you know, I thought about Torchwood and I'm pretty sure we didn't see anyone's knockers for the whole two seasons, did we? What we got instead was Owen's bare chest, Owen's bare arse... waaaaay too much naked Owen, to be honest: lots of bare-chested men, in fact - Owen, Jack, Tommy, Adam, Rhys - Rhys's arse, of course! Ianto's - naked back, and a bit of arm and about two teasing inches of chest, which is plainly ridiculous and annoying and needs to be rectified in Season Three. When they talk about five episodes being stripped across one week, I think we need to start lobbying...
But enough musing over cock. I'm really here because I'm writing again, but keep switching lamely between the four main Torchwood works-in-progress I currently have on the go. I really can't make my mind up, so I've done a little poll ( under the cut )
If you have the time and the inclination to go clicky, I'd appreciate it! I may even abide by the voting decision.
current mood:  mellow
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(44 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Monday, June 9th, 2008
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12:18 - the arse in question
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From The Times today:
Jonathan Miller bitches and moans because of all that nasty proletarian populism contaminating the sanctity of Art and Culture. I mean, honestly, isn't it disgusting the way some people actually believe theatre is about entertainment and spectacle and broad appeal, Shakespeare would be turning in his - oh, wait.
But what really bugs the presumptuous elitist wanker? Unknown provincial actors that *he* rates can't get cast as Hamlet in West End productions - oh noes, it's all gimmick casting these days, like Jude Law and, in the words of Sir Jonathan, "that man from Doctor Who". Because God forbid Tennant is one of the most capable and charismatic contemporary British actors, or that he might have the fame he has now because he's worked at his craft for years, stage and screen, and because he's now got the skill to deliver such a bloody stellar interpretation of a culturally iconic role every bit as potent as Hamlet, just slightly more accessible to a wider audience. No, that un-nameable oik is out there whoring for the greasy masses, on television, ghastly - not to mention prime-time Saturday nights! Worst of all, it's science fiction! And not even on BBC 2, which could at least pass as respectable because Sir Jonathan gets his occasional series on Two, helping to educate those of us less intellectually gifted than him.
Eeeewugh, "that man from Doctor Who". That's not a proper actor - that's a celebrity! And Sir Jonathan won't sully himself by deigning to dignify him with his actual name. Ain't posh education grand!
current mood: prole!
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(22 seedlings | grow your own)
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| Sunday, June 8th, 2008
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14:55 - bridges and atoms
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pensive
tired
Thing!
good