Monday, August 11

Character-driven pulp fiction!? SHANE BLACK WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.


This clip is an interview from a film I've been enjoying recently. Robert Downey Jr. is extremely bored and Val Kilmer a calming influence, and the two balance each other very nicely. Odd to find someone who could temper RDJr. and make Val laugh--I say this having procrastinated a great deal over the past week. Interesting dynamic, funny interview.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
is hilarious and awesome, especially for people who love books and films about books and films about people who read too much. The genre is usually known as detective fiction. Pulp fiction. Way too much fun. For people who laugh out loud whilst reading; slightly vulgar but good-hearted in the end. Go buy the film and say nice things about Shane Black.

Saturday, August 9

A not-quite-novel idea.

Anybody who has been reading this for more than a year knows I occasionally write snippets of fiction, but have never really been able to cobble together a story that really wants told. Most of the time I end up poking at my close-mouthed imagination and eventually going back to dishes and laundry. What bothers me now is that I thought I was quite finished writing scribbles that wanted written and am now being encouraged by those around me to write something they can read for fun, so that they see the world from my perspective a bit more. I BLOG, OKAY?!

But I don't write novels, and not a whole lot of people like reading blogs. My ability to write scholarly gibberish is not all that great, either; thanks for asking, though. I really must find a niche.

In other news, I had a dream last night that my hair grew all the way to the ground (it is at my knees, presently) and that it was a mahogany colour (rather than dead-leaf-coloured as it is now). I was walking around with it falling down my back, which I don't normally do since it gets caught on things and people like to touch it. And I was thinking about something else entirely.

Now, for a cup of tea. Tea makes everything better.

Friday, August 1

I know why I like to bake for lammastide.

I enjoy reading scholarly banter and bickering. There's a part of me thinks I could join in if it was interesting enough, or useful. I also admire very much the people who can do things well with their hands: it is a quieter life but probably a more useful one, in the end. I'm not as good at the latter but I admire it more than the former . . . my thesis supervisor (an Anglo-Saxonist of twinkly eyes and a marvellous cackle) suggested I marry a millionaire and get the best of both worlds; apparently millionaires are very lenient with their eccentric wives. Because apparently there is no other way to live both lives.

The whipping session of this dead horse was brought on by the half a minute I found myself gazing into nothing and then waking up to find myself staring at the yellowing edges of an article I printed off ages ago and have kept in my purse to read in waiting rooms and on train platforms. It isn't all that long of an article, but between cooking and cleaning and trying to get my meds to work I haven't been able to finish reading it. That is just embarrassing.

Here is yet another picture of St. Katherine, medieval heroine of women who read--and also, interestingly enough, of woodworkers.