ange: (Default)
And this is a numbered list of things I have to say:

1. There are a lot of awesome ST XI vids around, and I am COMPLETELY impressed, especially since the vids are awesome despite the source being the same shitty telesynced copy that I've got (the one that cuts the screen down on all sides so it's not so much STAR TREK, as "AR TRE" the movie populated by sometimes headless people in extreme close up). In summation: damn I can't wait for the DVD.

2. Connected to the above: the crappiest thing about the telesynced copy? THEY CUT OUT SULU'S SWORD EXTENDING. I have good money to spend on this DVD, bring it on.

Pull my teeth before I'll bite my tongue )

5. hey 42Below Feijoa ILU.









6. After the fiasco at the older relative's earlier tonight, I spent the uncomfortable after-dinner portion of the evening in the corner with my laptop. So I used his bandwidth allotment to download porn, I win, the end.
ange: (ricci (cimorene))
I want to post a link to this Spock/Uhura first time ficlet, so that I will always be able to find it, and so will you.
ange: (Default)
And also hearthands.

The amount of trek love around this corner of the internet is really more glee-making than I can say. And it's not just newTrek! People are suddenly discovering favourite old TOS stories and putting them on rec lists! Reading the Star Trek tie-in novels! And talking about them! I could wallow on the internet all day!

New fans of old Trek, here are some things that have been well-loved by me that I haven't seen pop up already:
In newTrek, I haven't met a pairing I didn't like or have any time for. In TOS? There can be only one (apart from Uhura/Chapel). See this ship manifesto (thanks, Killa!) for why.

Cathy German. She writes gen, but gen so full of love that it will stun you. She writes about the Enterprise and its crew with both idealism and loving mockery, and as it turns out, that's how I like it best. She is also why I've spent all afternoon in the Orion archives.
You should read There Would Be Others for love of the command trio. And Speaking the Language, for love of Scotty. You should read This story, for love of a random ensign; this one, for general hilarity; and this one to break your heart.
Don't forget this one, for the aforementioned love and mockery. You should read everything else she has written as well.

As far as the tie-in novels go, read this tag and this post, with comments for a mountain of recommendations. Personally, I think you should start with Diane Duane, (Spock's World, My Enemy, My Ally and The Wounded Sky among others), and Diane Carey's prequel books, Best Destiny and Final Frontier.

Oh, Star Trek. How I have loved you. And how I hate coding.
ange: (Default)
I think Ruby's car is awesome!

An internet search has thus far yielded no results, but as soon as I find a picture I WILL POST IT.
ange: (Default)
New Star Trek movie! \o/ I've been waiting for this forever! Or, ever since that first preview which had absolutely nothing Trek in it at all (it was Nasa radio noise and some guys in suits drilling) until Leonard Nimoy's voice intoned "Space...the final frontier" and I had to make an effort to stop my face from leaking. I embrace the very strong cheese that is TOS, and don't know why Leonard Nimoy's voice should make me feel weepy. Except, now that I think of it, that I probably would have been able to pick his voice out in a dark room from the time I first started school. I've known these characters a long time. I'm invested, damn it all.

Spoilers elicit an emotional reaction )

I'm helpless in the face of Star Trek, man. They had me at "beep".
ange: (Default)
Oh MAN, the amount of due South that I have been watching, lately; it is enough to sink a battleship. Mainly the RayK period, because lo, these many years ago when I started reading due South fic - with only the vague memory of a guy in a red coat from a 1990s TV ad to guide me - it happened to be RayK fic. Ergo, RayK forever! There is something very soothing about diving back into old fandoms - remembering the old love and feeling it all over again at the same moment, but with all the sharp edges smoothed over and sanded away. Y'know, sepia. It's restful, especially when real life is stressful and your current fandom isn't very happy place right now (DAMN YOU SAM AND DEAN, SCREW NARRATIVE INTEGRITY AND GET TO THE MAKING UP). (Also yes, the funny is there, but it keeps colliding with my embarrassment squick, so let's all PLEASE PUT THE FOURTH WALL BACK UP, JESUS).

But yes, due South is *restful*. And I'd forgotten just how quirky it is -- you'll get a transvestite bride, an opera-singing mortician named Mort, a story about how Yukon John bit off Haystack Calhoun's ear in a wrestling match, and a tired man crying over his steering wheel in the dark, and all those elements will live quite happily together.

But do you know what hit me on this re-watch, after a fair while of watching Arthur and Merlin (and Sam and Dean) being really very young protagonists? How... wonderfully *grizzled* Ray and Fraser are. Even Fraser with his pretty baby face is pushing forty, and you can tell. And I really liked it. I made myself sick by murmuring something aloud about how in coming years we'll probably have fetuses starring on television and then going to make a cup of tea. Which probably means I should just go and buy some blue rinse and a shotgun and have it done.

Anyway, I thought I had a point about the settling weight of years versus the weight of buckets of emo, but the truth is that I don't have a point. If I waited until I had a point before posting, I'd be waiting until kingdom come.

God, I miss snarky buddy shows. Action! Mortal peril! Escapes! Bizzare displays of snarky bromance where snarky bromance is actually displayed!
ange: (Default)
Hey! I got a Dreamwidth code - apparently just by having an OpenID that got picked out of a hat, or whatever the digital equivalent is - so I am now ange over there (and my, am I glad to be rid of the numbers). I feel kind of guilty for swiping the code when there are so few around at the moment and not being a very active member of the fannish community, so I guess it was the kick in the pants I needed to get posting again.

State of the fandom?

Fandom that:
- makes me laugh and want to buy the world a coke = Leverage.
- makes me wince ideologically and slightly obsess like a nutjob with slight over-investment issues = Supernatural
- makes me want to snort sugar out of little packets and throw glitter in great clouds around my couch and its surrounding area = Merlin

all in the privacy and concealment of my own home, you understand.

Lately, I have decided to consciously focus on the happy. This would have seemed like a no-brainer, but, well. No.

Other things:

Thanks to [personal profile] cupiscent for reccing Orisha recently (great haircut btw, doll) and[personal profile] bossymarmalade for, y'know, writing.

And you guys, would yet another rec list with commentary be handy and/or useful? I have links to so much greatness in so many fandoms, and I'm thinking of doing something with all of them. Or is it del.ic.ious or nothing these days?
ange: (Default)

Hey! I got a Dreamwidth code - apparently just by having an OpenID that got picked out of a hat, or whatever the digital equivalent is - so I am now <a href="http://ange.dreamwidth.org/">ange</a>  over there (and my, am I glad to be rid of the numbers).  I feel kind of guilty for swiping the code when there are so few around at the moment and not being a very active member of the fannish community, so I guess it was the kick in the pants I needed to get posting again.

State of the fandom?

Fandom that:
- makes me laugh and want to buy the world a coke = Leverage.
- makes me wince ideologically and  <i>slightly</i> obsess like a nutjob with <i>slight</i> over-investment issues = Supernatural
- makes me want to snort sugar out of little packets and throw glitter in great clouds around my couch and its surrounding area = Merlin

all in the privacy and concealment of my own home, you understand.

Lately, I have decided to consciously focus on the happy.  This would have seemed like a no-brainer, but, well. No.

Other things:

Thanks to <lj user="cupiscent"> for reccing Orisha recently (great haircut btw, doll) and<lj user="bossymarmalade"> for, y'know, writing.

 And you guys, would yet another rec list with commentary be handy and/or useful? I have links to so much greatness  in so many fandoms, and I'm thinking of doing something with all of them.  Or is it del.ic.ious or nothing these days?
ange: (Default)
I don't want to type "been a while" out of quotation marks, and so I won't.  If I have to gnaw off my fingers at the second knuckle, so be it. News: I'm back at school, doing post-grad in English, the way I should have the first time.  But you know what I really miss?  fandom.  And you! 
ange: (Default)
Months, I say.  If only I had news of any kind.   I've been around, totally not posting.  Stuff's happened, to be sure:  my sister got married, and that was months of stress leading to beauty.  My living situation has changed a couple of times, finally settling into a gorgeous little flat with a gorgeous little garden that is mine!  All mine!  Mine and nobody else's! And I really couldn't be happier, after a long, long period of trying for happy and falling short.

So now I'm finally settled, I really want to get back into this LJ thing.  I've got nothing much to say, but hey, man.  You have to start *somewhere*.  I'll start with pressing post.

I'm sitting in my lounge working my way through the entire Granada series of Sherlock Holmes, so I think we can take it as read that I'm doing pretty neat. How are you all, lovelies? 

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ange: (Default)
For I am a solver of conundrums. 

  • Re. John flipping a coin to decide whether or not to go to Atlantis:

    O'Neill tells Sheppard to make his decision by the end of their flight.  Later, after the flight, Sheppard is shown flipping a coin. Ergo, John Sheppard did NOT flip a coin to decide to go to Atlantis.  He decided to go to Atlantis because he didn't want to look like a blouse wearing wussypants in front of O'Neill. He then sat around on a lawn flipping a coin because, pre-Atlantis, John Sheppard was a sad bastard with no mates.



  • Re. how they got Ronon to fit into a space suit and helmet at the start of "Aurora" given that, y'know, Ronon's kinda big, and so's his hair: 

    I've watched this scene very closely a number of times, and I can say with a fair amount of certainty that they didn't get him to fit into a spacesuit at all.  If it's possible to actually *see* Ronon in this scene, I'll eat the 10 pack of CD-Rs on my desk.



You didn't know you wanted to know, did you?

In other news, I've missed you.  How've you been?
ange: (Default)
Okay, so.  I have officially followed everyone and their uncle off the cliff.  *draws hearts around SGA*  It's Ronon and his big yellow coattails.  I swear, I couldn't resist climbing on.  I've been watching season two in terms of: there are Ronon's arms, and there's Ronon's big-ass gun, and there's Ronon with knives, and there's Ronon kicking ass, and there's Ronon pilfering the nibbles and sticking them in his pockets.  I, too, have pilfered nibbles.  I have held my hair up with a really pointy kebab skewer.  Plus, I'm totally hot for Sheppard.  Me and Ronon, man, we're like *this*.

On that note, Critical Mass, with spoilers. )

In conclusion:  hokey science fiction makes my heart sing. 

This entry seems  kind of flippant  after so long an absence, but hey.  Whatever gets you posting, right?  The reasons for my even longer than usual hiatus are lengthy, depressing and mostly over and done.  I'll tell you this much, I'm sitting here with "Runner" cued up to play, and I'm smiling.  How're you?
ange: (ricci (cimorene))
So, I recently rejoined the internet after an extended real life holiday, and Numb3rs has swept me away.  Not surprising really, given that I have a long-standing mania for curly-headed geeks and the gun-totin' hotties that love them.  I also have a mania for other curly-headed geeks who love curly-headed geeks ("curly-headed geeks" being the obvious constant in this equation), because god knows  I'm nothing if not easy. 

Now I'm sort of wondering whether the reason SG-1 never grabbed me viscerally, despite the quality of a lot of the stories I've read, may have been  Daniel Jackson's lamentable lack of curl. 

Any road. )

In other news, emo boys snogging on a dare.  I don't have a lot to add except that I tried to explain to a friend about the emo boys snogging on a dare, and she looked at me quizzically and asked me if it was stuffed.  We sort of stared at each other for a bit, then I confessed that I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, and she said couldn't imagine a live deer lying there and putting up with boys snogging on it. wtf, man.

But! Snogging, yes.  Go read Making Sure, because [livejournal.com profile] cupiscent has always done it right. When you're done, read Bare Naked.  Because she hasn't stopped. *g*

Randomly,  I spent some time last week cleaning out my picture folders and I realised I'm nostalgic for old school popfandom.  You know the huge neon  watermarks that used to get plastered over concert pictures, that everyone always complained about?  They made me feel all misty. As in, "aww, there's  "jc'n'me4evaandevaandeva@hotmail.com" in hot pink right across their chests!  Those were the days! Where'd those days go? " etc.  Which is completely insane, so I don't suppose I can go throwing stones at people who think snogs and roadkill go hand in hand anytime soon.
ange: (Default)
I found the quote in the subject line (or something like it) after following a bunch of links and now I can't remember who said it.  Hail comrade, whoever you are!

Long absence due to too much work and murky depression at finding myself at home with the olds again, with no easy escape from family drama.  Flat hunting was a special kind of hell, given that every place I saw  was either way too expensive or a hovel.  But! Have scored new digs, am moving in April, am of the opinion that there are no words in English for the feelings of relief and overwhelming joy that the thought of new digs gives rise to in me.  It's sort of like yeast for the flattened soul.

What I did on my holiday: I  found out I'm on the Filet Mignon cluster, goddammit. I have started learning Russian for no good reason (but then, who needs one?).    I have read a book of essays by Jenny Diski called "Tales from the Bed and other Observations", which you should really read; I have wallowed in the Archer and rejoiced in the return of crack to my fiction; I have started reading a lot of SG Atlantis despite not knowing what the characters look like (which seems to be the way I do things in new fandoms, go figure).

In short, still alive.  I think it was [livejournal.com profile] violetisblue who said recently that the less you post, the harder it is to think of things to post about.  Well, she's right. *G*  I haven't been very connected lately.  But I want you to know that I still love you.  Yes I do. 
ange: (ricci (cimorene))
I've been more than a little tongue-tied when it comes to things LJ, lately.  My words don't come out write, if you know what I mean.  Real life's been depressing (am being, for all intents and purposes, evicted by way of rent increase; am clean, quiet and responsible with bills; can I come stay on your couch?) and disillusioning. Add  the fact that I'm finding it hard to write a shopping list these days, stir well and serve warm.  But. Onward and upward;  let your smile be your umbrella, etc.
 
Fandomly speaking, ever since reading Killa's wonderful essay in [livejournal.com profile] ship_manifesto, I've had an embarrassingly geeky resurgence of Trek love.  Which always seems to happen when things get quiet, truth be told. I don't know if I should put it down to  the unrelenting cheese, the abundance of primary colours and sparkles in the costumes and set (even the bedspreads in sickbay are spangly, I swear), or the fact that everyone wears too much eyeliner, but I just keep coming back to the Original Series. 

I'm not sure quite what it says about me that I'm more ashamed of liking Trek than I am of liking boybands, but there it is.  I will say that my (continuing, if quieter now) love of popslash has spoiled me a bit. Mainly in terms of crack levels.  In popslash, whatever your freaky kink is, you're never alone.  Boys turn into girls, or grow wings, or travel everywhich way in time to meet (and bed) themselves.  I've read more than one Justin/Justin, for Christ's sake.  Now, TOS is a fandom where this kind of stuff is half an inch from canon.  Kirk's consciousness is transferred into a woman's body!  Kirk rides a shoddy transporter beam and is split into good fembot Kirk and bad caveman Kirk! Kirk gets exchanged for his parallel universe counterpart!  Kirk gets duplicated and he and his android doppelganger lie naked on a table together! And they both wear too much eyeliner!  All of this is *in the damn show*.  But can I find *one* measly Kirk/Kirk story, anywhere?  No.  I can't.  And it's starting to make me feel like some sort of deviant. I can't be the only one with this idea!  What's with the lack of crack?  When it's handed to you on a platter?  I ask you.

Hunh.  Not so wordless, apparently.  Yay for refuge in spangled trivia.
ange: (ricci (cimorene))
Still here.  And you know that show I mentioned, once, ages ago?  The one about mountains and climbing them and getting down again? The one with the hours of rehearsal and writing and rewriting and climbing ropes and falling down them again, and the stress and sweat and fret?  Well, it didn't kill me, hallelujah. 

In fact, it was beautiful, if absolutely fucking terrifying.  On the first night, I swept backstage after my opening scene and crouched behind the wall to listen to the first monologue with my eyes screwed shut so tightly I saw spots.  I prayed, man.  Then the audience started laughing and didn't stop, and I can't even tell you what a relief it was.  It was like my skin wasn't big enough for me anymore.  The audience kept laughing for the entire four night run (well.  Less on the second night, but that's because the second night always sucks.  I've never been in a show where the second night didn't suck.  This particular second night didn't suck ass, is what I'm saying.)  and, phew.  Validation!  The show was good, my writing doesn't suck, my friends are brilliant and D is a genius. 

Read this.  She's more articulate about this stuff than I am.

So that's what I've been doing.  Now, for the first time in weeks, I'm going to make a coffee and sit down with some fiction.  Bless it.
ange: (Default)
I'm wondering if anyone else on earth gets zen from Dick Wolf shows.  It's Wednesday, and tonight on TV3, it is the night of Dick Wolf: Law and Order: Sport's Utility Vehicle, followed directly by Original Recipe.  I look forward to this every week. 

Now, I'm well aware that cop-shows part ways with reality in important procedural, legal and scientific ways.  I just don't care. In fact, I think the lack of realism is GREAT.  If these shows were accurate they'd never be able to tell me whodunnit and bring me the closure and resolution that the real world never does in under an hour, and really, that's all I want.  I don't even care if the the perp gets off on a technicality or slips the net and is never brought to justice, as long as they solve the mystery and tie up all the loose ends in a nice little bow for me.  It's like a two hour break from my brain.

I like Criminal Intent too, but we're between seasons.  I have no hour of Zen on Sunday nights anymore.  It pains me.

I'm quite prepared to be alone in this.  As a Gimli fan.

Mmm.  I'm tired and punchy.  Fact is, I'm still sick and it's wearing me down, but my days are full, full, full.  I'm writing and teaching and working and rehearsing a play for early September at Bats Theatre.  It's quite a physical piece and I'm pretty sure rehearsals are making the glandular fever worse, but sometimes, timing sucks. It's one of those: "Look, I'll fall down when I have *time*, okay?" things.  On the upside, it's fun, even if I can only do about a third of what everyone else is doing.  We're re-writing my part to make it easier for me, which I'm happy about.  I don't think I'm up to climbing circus ropes right now.  I already fell off the trapeze.
ange: (ricci (cimorene))
Because why not.

Fandom's been passing me by a bit lately -- I've come down with quite a bad case of glandular fever, which means I've gone from being an insomniac to falling asleep every time I sit down.  Two days ago, I conked out with my head on the space bar and woke with a start 319 blank pages later.  That was weird.

I'm doing okay though, in the sense that life, y'know, continues. I'm getting better.  We're in holidays, so I don't have to fob off my tutoring sessions and even Pablo's has come to the party and helped me out:  I went to talk to the art teacher to explain why I couldn't life model for a while  (along the lines of: "I can't lift my arms or stand still without listing over," and he said: "Oh, that's fine, we'll use you for draping (and your musculature is still great)."  So now I go in, recline on something, get draped in fabric arranged in various folds and swirls and the students draw and shade the fabric. I haven't fallen asleep in class yet, but oh, I could.  I get paid for this.  Life is a pretty sweet fruit, I say.

In conclusion, I wonder what your subconcious is trying to tell you if you dream about Blair Sandburg in Oz.
 
ange: (Default)
I spent this weekend visiting a friend in New Plymouth and I rode home yesterday on the Bus that Time Forgot. It was a night journey so there was bugger all to see out the window; the spotlight on my seat didn't work so I couldn't read anything; I wasn't sleepy and all the other passengers were zombies. Seven freaking hours of Shania Twain interspersed with static on the radio and lots of dark nothing.

I spent an hour resisting the urge to leap to my feet and ask if anyone wanted to play noughts and crosses, and three years yearning for the sweet embrace of the grave, and also a toilet.

But my weekend was great. I caught up with Cal, and we saw Troy. There were pretty people with thighs. )

In other fandom news, I had DSL over the weekend, and took the opportunity to put the [livejournal.com profile] footage_project to the use God intended. Thanks and love to everyone involved! I watched things that people have been talking about for years and I've never had the opportunity to see, what with living in the other hemisphere and everything. The Making of Pop! Everything that everyone's said about this show ever is absolutely true. Am full of mocking affection, with particular love and giggles for the timbertrick and Justin's earnest pronouncements about carrying the message of pop to the world. Love love love.

The HP kids just came on the news. Sweet baby Jesus, they've grown up well.
ange: (bodies)
Hello insomnia.

Life modeling has been achieved. I spent an hour and a half yesterday morning with my left arm outstretched at shoulder height and one leg slightly in front of the other. I didn't realise that staying still could be so tiring. But it was cool. I was worried about the cold (it was freezing yesterday and we were in this big drafty room), but it turned out that Pablo's has, like, eight little fan heaters and they were all trained on me. In the end, all the aspiring life drawers were shivering and wearing their coats and fingerless gloves the entire time, while I was toasty warm. I had fun, and resolved that potential meeting-these-people-out-of-class embarrassment was for wussies. Wellington's a small city, yes, but I can handle passing the odd art student in the street.

Of course, my resolve was tested (or, I dunno, maybe it's just further evidence that my life is a joke to someone, somewhere) when I stopped at a cafe later in the day for a coffee before work and 8 out of the 12 class members showed up at the same time. Who knew they went around in packs? I can honestly say I've never before had 8 people who have seen me naked standing behind me in the coffee queue, all at once. It was daunting. I smiled, in a sort of grimace-like way, and gave them a little wave. And ordered my coffee to go.

But, hey. I'll get used to it. And they admired my musculature, man.

I'm gonna go preen where nobody can see me.
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