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Yes, Angel is on, but I seriously can't watch it.
I flicked onto it as soon as Rove Live finished and yes I like Angel, and Joss is a god, and this episode has one of the most fantastic titles of any Buffy or Angel episode ever ("Slouching Towards Bethlehem") but it is the definitive start of The Ew, and it already started right at the beginning of the episode, and I can't deal with it. It's too creepy and Oedipus-like for my tastes. So today I went in early, determined to attend my Japanese lecture...and couldn't find it. Sigh. So I did my film readings and then, on the way to my film tute, who should I meet but Iain. You remember, the gorgeous gothic boy who I *really* have to call and to whom I should've said "You wanna hang out after my tute?" but didn't coz I was in a hurry and surprised and kinda distracted by his eyes, which are pretty and green, and by trying to think of something to say, and also by the lines of highlighter that were on the sleeve of my shirt. So I said goodbye to him (I'll call him tomorrow. Really I will) and went to my class, which was fun as always. My tutor's great (I always forget his name, maybe David?) and he seems to actually value my input. So we discussed Breathless in class and the Oscars after class, and he said I *have* to see The Hours, then I bumped into Melissa and we had a good long slashy LotR chat, and I went to my Anth lecture which was *so* dull that I ended up writing fanfic for the first time in *years.* Not to say it's good, but it will be posted soon. Meanwhile, I'm looking for that story, Yosuke, that I wrote a while back.
Onto a review of Rove Live, which was basically the only thing I watched tonight. How much of a boycrush does Rove have on Craig David? Seriously, the beard thing is just hilarious. And I don't mean it in a gay way (honest, I don't *always* think slashy) coz I wouldn't want to undermine Rove and Belinda Emmett, but he just kinda hero-worships Craig for his beard-growing abilities. Craig is a very pretty man. Niiiice. John Cleese talked about Harry Potter for a bit, he bitched and moaned about how he doesn't get to actually interact with anyone, but it didn't bother me much. After all, he's still doing the movies. Obviously he's a fan. There was a funny Indian English guy I'd never heard of on the show, the comedian wasn't great, but Stella the mechanical pig was pretty funny. I missed What The!!! Noooooo!
I was gonna use Rove.com as my link of the day but it appears to have crashed, so maybe next Tuesday. I guess today I'll use something else...*ponders* How about The Pfyre Place? It's got fantastic Queer as Folk scans of the great and sexy Brian as well as *everyone* else, from every article ever written about QaF, *but* it has a silly system where you have to enter the username of "Visitor" and the password of "yes" to get in, and you can't direct link to the pics *sniffles* or you would've seen more of them here!
There are some cute new Oscar party pics at Bag-End, I've got one as a Pic of the Day with Dom talking to Lij on his phone. I had a very amusing thought today of Lij getting the Best Actor award for Frodo and going up and professing his love for Dom. We can dream. Now, I've been searching for Clark/Lex slashy pictures, and I've realised that apart from the lusty looks there's not a lot of contact between the boys. Methink the producers doth protest too much? Anyway, here's a general pic of the boys together. Oh but I also found a "guh!" picture of Lex in sunnies, so that's here too. And finally since I feel like we're missing out on something LotR pretty...um, something pretty. And I just found Yosuke, so for LiveJournal readers it's in with the rest of the pictures (click the Read more... link) and for Xanga users...it's just there.
Oh, here you go. Found Yosuke.
Yosuke
He wasn’t very old--maybe about 19 to 25, it was always hard to tell. He
stood out on the train full of middle-aged salary men in their starched shirts
and neat suits, flicking through the sports sections of newspapers without the
slightest hint of interest on their blank faces. His manga was of a fairly
ordinary variety--a thick book with a bright orange title that was translated
from some meaningless phrase in English into equally meaningless Japanese kana.
He never knew what the title meant, but on occasions the comic would send a
flicker of humour across his face. He bought one copy every week, regular as
clockwork. In Shibuya or Harajuku, he would have looked entirely at home. His
hair was in an almost ridiculous imitation of an afro, kept from being truly
hideous only by virtue of a physical impossibility to grow it any longer and
still keep it in its shape. His face was unremarkable--no distinguishing
features that could be seen while he kept his eyes down on his manga, reading
more intensely than was necessary. His shirt was a sort of dirty brown colour
and looked more like it belonged in the 70’s than now, but he bought it at Gap so
it must be fashionable. A colour combination such as the Gap shirt and his tye-
died jeans in an orange to rival the comic book’s title had never been attempted,
so to say whether or not they clashed was redundant. Of all his physical
attributes, it was his hands that caught the attention of onlookers, more than
the hair or clothes. The veins showed in his arm, from his broad, lean hand
right down his forearm as he held the manga with one hand in his lap. He leant
against the rail, with the other hand tapping absentmindedly against the metal
until he reached down slowly, lazily, to turn the page. An assortment of chunky
silver rings with bizarre designs and thin chain bracelets from every street
vendor in Shibuya adorned both lean hands, and his manicure was impeccable,
better than the riculously expensive manicures girls would buy in hair
salons.
Slowly, the time between turnings of the page became longer until finally he
stopped reading it all together, as thoughts and memories clouded his mind and
his perfect, glittering hands began shaking slightly. His eyes welled up enough
to prevent him from seeing the page. A single tear fell from his bowed head on
to the face of a typical manga creation of a girl with enormous eyes and
overactive sweat glands. A slight gasp of sorrow shuddered through him, quiet
enough for most passengers to ignore it, but conspicuous enough to make the
businessman on his left shift an uncomfortable inch away. Misery racked the mind
of the boy on the train and, slowly, took over his body, as he buried his face in
those long fingers and let the tears flow freely. They slid down the silver of
the rings, leaving that wet metallic smell in the air and the taste of them on
his tongue. He broke down quietly, but his stifled sobs echoed through the
carriage as though it were a tomb. Station after station he carried on in his
silent protest against the world that hurt him so much that he would dare to cry
on the subway. He didn’t move from his seat, he merely cried as the loneliness
and exhaustion his short life had caused him flooded out. He was no longer
embarassed--the other passengers were embarassed enough for him. They stood or
sat as far away from him as humanly possible, awkward, unsure of what to do in
the case of such a public display of emotion. One circuit on the subway; two;
surely he must have passed his stop by now?
Finally his sobbing subsides. His tears dry up, and he closes the now soggy
manga and gets to his feet slowly, uneasily. Feeling slightly ill, he watches
the train doors open in front of him. Mindlessly his feet lead him towards his
destination, with only the two damp pages of the manga and the stinging in his
eyes to remind him of his journey.
So yeah, I wrote that a while back, in year 12 at ISSH. People seem to think it's depressing but I didn't write it that way--for me it's really more of a liberation. Hope you liked it either way.
Yeats' "Slouching Towards Bethlehem"
Turning and turning
Within the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things all apart
The center cannot hold
And a blood dimmed tide
Is loosed upon the world
Nothing is sacred
The ceremony sinks
Innocence is drowned
In anarchy
The best lack conviction
Given some time to think
And the worst are full of passion
Without mercy
Surely some revelation is at hand
Surely it's the second coming
And wrath has finally taken form
For what is this rough beast
Its hour come at last
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Green Queen
I flicked onto it as soon as Rove Live finished and yes I like Angel, and Joss is a god, and this episode has one of the most fantastic titles of any Buffy or Angel episode ever ("Slouching Towards Bethlehem") but it is the definitive start of The Ew, and it already started right at the beginning of the episode, and I can't deal with it. It's too creepy and Oedipus-like for my tastes. So today I went in early, determined to attend my Japanese lecture...and couldn't find it. Sigh. So I did my film readings and then, on the way to my film tute, who should I meet but Iain. You remember, the gorgeous gothic boy who I *really* have to call and to whom I should've said "You wanna hang out after my tute?" but didn't coz I was in a hurry and surprised and kinda distracted by his eyes, which are pretty and green, and by trying to think of something to say, and also by the lines of highlighter that were on the sleeve of my shirt. So I said goodbye to him (I'll call him tomorrow. Really I will) and went to my class, which was fun as always. My tutor's great (I always forget his name, maybe David?) and he seems to actually value my input. So we discussed Breathless in class and the Oscars after class, and he said I *have* to see The Hours, then I bumped into Melissa and we had a good long slashy LotR chat, and I went to my Anth lecture which was *so* dull that I ended up writing fanfic for the first time in *years.* Not to say it's good, but it will be posted soon. Meanwhile, I'm looking for that story, Yosuke, that I wrote a while back.
Onto a review of Rove Live, which was basically the only thing I watched tonight. How much of a boycrush does Rove have on Craig David? Seriously, the beard thing is just hilarious. And I don't mean it in a gay way (honest, I don't *always* think slashy) coz I wouldn't want to undermine Rove and Belinda Emmett, but he just kinda hero-worships Craig for his beard-growing abilities. Craig is a very pretty man. Niiiice. John Cleese talked about Harry Potter for a bit, he bitched and moaned about how he doesn't get to actually interact with anyone, but it didn't bother me much. After all, he's still doing the movies. Obviously he's a fan. There was a funny Indian English guy I'd never heard of on the show, the comedian wasn't great, but Stella the mechanical pig was pretty funny. I missed What The!!! Noooooo!
I was gonna use Rove.com as my link of the day but it appears to have crashed, so maybe next Tuesday. I guess today I'll use something else...*ponders* How about The Pfyre Place? It's got fantastic Queer as Folk scans of the great and sexy Brian as well as *everyone* else, from every article ever written about QaF, *but* it has a silly system where you have to enter the username of "Visitor" and the password of "yes" to get in, and you can't direct link to the pics *sniffles* or you would've seen more of them here!
There are some cute new Oscar party pics at Bag-End, I've got one as a Pic of the Day with Dom talking to Lij on his phone. I had a very amusing thought today of Lij getting the Best Actor award for Frodo and going up and professing his love for Dom. We can dream. Now, I've been searching for Clark/Lex slashy pictures, and I've realised that apart from the lusty looks there's not a lot of contact between the boys. Methink the producers doth protest too much? Anyway, here's a general pic of the boys together. Oh but I also found a "guh!" picture of Lex in sunnies, so that's here too. And finally since I feel like we're missing out on something LotR pretty...um, something pretty. And I just found Yosuke, so for LiveJournal readers it's in with the rest of the pictures (click the Read more... link) and for Xanga users...it's just there.
Oh, here you go. Found Yosuke.
Yosuke
He wasn’t very old--maybe about 19 to 25, it was always hard to tell. He
stood out on the train full of middle-aged salary men in their starched shirts
and neat suits, flicking through the sports sections of newspapers without the
slightest hint of interest on their blank faces. His manga was of a fairly
ordinary variety--a thick book with a bright orange title that was translated
from some meaningless phrase in English into equally meaningless Japanese kana.
He never knew what the title meant, but on occasions the comic would send a
flicker of humour across his face. He bought one copy every week, regular as
clockwork. In Shibuya or Harajuku, he would have looked entirely at home. His
hair was in an almost ridiculous imitation of an afro, kept from being truly
hideous only by virtue of a physical impossibility to grow it any longer and
still keep it in its shape. His face was unremarkable--no distinguishing
features that could be seen while he kept his eyes down on his manga, reading
more intensely than was necessary. His shirt was a sort of dirty brown colour
and looked more like it belonged in the 70’s than now, but he bought it at Gap so
it must be fashionable. A colour combination such as the Gap shirt and his tye-
died jeans in an orange to rival the comic book’s title had never been attempted,
so to say whether or not they clashed was redundant. Of all his physical
attributes, it was his hands that caught the attention of onlookers, more than
the hair or clothes. The veins showed in his arm, from his broad, lean hand
right down his forearm as he held the manga with one hand in his lap. He leant
against the rail, with the other hand tapping absentmindedly against the metal
until he reached down slowly, lazily, to turn the page. An assortment of chunky
silver rings with bizarre designs and thin chain bracelets from every street
vendor in Shibuya adorned both lean hands, and his manicure was impeccable,
better than the riculously expensive manicures girls would buy in hair
salons.
Slowly, the time between turnings of the page became longer until finally he
stopped reading it all together, as thoughts and memories clouded his mind and
his perfect, glittering hands began shaking slightly. His eyes welled up enough
to prevent him from seeing the page. A single tear fell from his bowed head on
to the face of a typical manga creation of a girl with enormous eyes and
overactive sweat glands. A slight gasp of sorrow shuddered through him, quiet
enough for most passengers to ignore it, but conspicuous enough to make the
businessman on his left shift an uncomfortable inch away. Misery racked the mind
of the boy on the train and, slowly, took over his body, as he buried his face in
those long fingers and let the tears flow freely. They slid down the silver of
the rings, leaving that wet metallic smell in the air and the taste of them on
his tongue. He broke down quietly, but his stifled sobs echoed through the
carriage as though it were a tomb. Station after station he carried on in his
silent protest against the world that hurt him so much that he would dare to cry
on the subway. He didn’t move from his seat, he merely cried as the loneliness
and exhaustion his short life had caused him flooded out. He was no longer
embarassed--the other passengers were embarassed enough for him. They stood or
sat as far away from him as humanly possible, awkward, unsure of what to do in
the case of such a public display of emotion. One circuit on the subway; two;
surely he must have passed his stop by now?
Finally his sobbing subsides. His tears dry up, and he closes the now soggy
manga and gets to his feet slowly, uneasily. Feeling slightly ill, he watches
the train doors open in front of him. Mindlessly his feet lead him towards his
destination, with only the two damp pages of the manga and the stinging in his
eyes to remind him of his journey.
So yeah, I wrote that a while back, in year 12 at ISSH. People seem to think it's depressing but I didn't write it that way--for me it's really more of a liberation. Hope you liked it either way.
Yeats' "Slouching Towards Bethlehem"
Turning and turning
Within the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things all apart
The center cannot hold
And a blood dimmed tide
Is loosed upon the world
Nothing is sacred
The ceremony sinks
Innocence is drowned
In anarchy
The best lack conviction
Given some time to think
And the worst are full of passion
Without mercy
Surely some revelation is at hand
Surely it's the second coming
And wrath has finally taken form
For what is this rough beast
Its hour come at last
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born
Green Queen
