yes, don Hamleoni

I have tired brain. I’m not tired physically, I just suddenly become tired when I start reading this chapter I’m trying to edit. The words sort of blur together and I realise how frequently I repeat myself. It’s humid and warm today and I’m hiding inside. It’s not really working, as my sinuses have reminded me that humidity is good for mould. Not Bob Mould, but the other type.
I have this chapter to finish, then the other difficult one (DJing) to finish, and all before the end of the month. 20 days, with weekends off. Meanwhile, the date for submitting my application for extension draws closer and closer (loom is the appropriate word here), my panic ebbs and flows. It’s given me strange dreams, a combination of the hardcore inter-species war being conducted in the Judas Unchained universe and my sudden Lost bingeing.
I hadn’t watched Lost ever before, but an impulse added it to my trawl at the video shop last week. I thoroughly enjoyed the first 4 episodes or so, but it’s kind of losing its appeal – it’s getting silly. I keep noticing things that could either be continuity errors or clever plot lines. If this was David Lynch, I’d be overjoyed and suspecting the latter. But it’s not. One thing I want to know: how is it I can never find half a dozen functioning bobby pins in my own home, when the blondey asthma chick can find at least 20 every day on a desert island? I also want to know how the Korean chick managed to explain to the black guy which type of leaf she needed to do a little eucalyptus naturopath action on blondey. And why she didn’t punch him when he came back with an armload of wattle* instead. That’s not to mention my disbelief at his success finding this particular type of indigenous Australian plant on a tropical island which does not show any other plants from the same family or micro-climte group at all.
Ok, so it could all just be woo-aliens or wooo-government-conspiracy, but please. Respect the bounds of my belief!
On another television front, I think I could be interested in Carnivale on the ABC, but seeing as how I only ever watch telly on DVDs now, that could be difficult…
Meanwhile, we continue the Godfather Experience with Godfather II this week, prompted in part by our delight with phrases like “would I make my sister a widow?” and threatening Crinkle with waking up with the severed head of one of her beloved bunnies in her bed if she gave us any trouble. And no, despite first impressions, it wouldn’t be just like waking up with your period in the night, it would be horrific and she’d scream and scream and scream. And then come on a night time revenge visit with half a dozen henchmen and a machine gun.
In our house, if you displease don Hamleoni, you’re offered a trip to Vegas.
But back on the thesis thing: surely I’ll find my focus again soon? Surely?
*it could have been a particular alpine eucalypt indigenous only to alpine Tasmania, but please.

telly update

It’s ten past eight, and still way light outside.
I’ve spent the day divided between the couch and bed, dealing with serious goobs.
What else to do but watch telly?
We’re watching Veronica Mars on telly and I’m kind of not really digging it. I know other people really dig it, but me… not so much.
It’s been a while since I watched some Dead Like Me, which I’m holding as the main contender for decent teen tv… though it probably doesn’t count as teen tv, seeing as how the protagonist is 18 or even a bit older. It’s certainly a bit less mainstream than VM, seeing as how the protagonist is not only 18 and finished with schoool, but also dead.
Do the characters have to be at school to make it a teen flick?

fan attack

and we’re done.
We watched the last episode of Firefly last night, and that’s it – finito. I am definitely going back to the cinema to see the fillum again, though.
To help me get over the loss, I’m watching masses of episodes of Dead Like Me which I’m quite enjoying. It’s no Firefly, but it’s passing the time.
We also have some Veronica Mars to watch, but I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about it – it looks a bit glam. It better be as dark as the other stuff we’ve been watching.

drama, soap opera, cereal

My obsession with Firefly continues. Maybe I’m understimulated – and that’s why I like it so much…
Last night we went to see Night Watch/Nochnoi Dozor, a Russian vampire/woo scary fillum. I didn’t mind it…sorry. I know I should have something more interesting to say, but David and Margerate said it all. I mean, I should be going nuts for this flick, what with it being a really interesting Russian contribution to Hollywood (there are 2 more to come and a big fat Hollywood budget for the last one at least, so I’ve heard), but … meh. It was ok, and there were bits I quite liked (it was interesting to see something like this set in Moscow), and there were some pretty interesting and unique approaches to cinematography/CGI/subtitles, but… Maybe the next one will blow my pants off. Thing is, being such a fan of vampire/supernatural/sc-fant/sci-fi stuff, my standards are quite high. Well, I’ll watch any old woo crap, but to be impressed, I need more.
It was certainly no Fireflly.
On other filmic fronts, Pride and Prejudice is out now, which I’m quite keen on seeing. I’m a bit of an Austen fan, and Ang Lee’s Sense and Sensibility pleased me immensely (that could just be the Ang Lee factor, though). I’m also a huge fan of lovely period costume and sets.
There’s actually a stack of lady-movies out at the moment: In Her Shoes (or whatever it’s called), Must Love Dogs etc etc etc. eeeeexxxceeellllent. Though of course, this sudden bounty happens just as I get back into the whole thesis thing. Dang.
Similarly, last night I saw a copy of The Truth About Cats and Dogs in a clearance bin at Kmart for only $11. I should have bought it.
Should I be ashamed of this passion for ladyfilms?
I mostly like them because they’re dialogue driven, so you can ‘watch’ them while you quilt/sew/crochet – it doesn’t really matter if you don’t watch the screen the whole time. Unlike action films where it’s all about watching the screen*. Interestingly, Firefly is about half and half: I could quilt while I watched it (as if!)…
Right now I’ve taken a break from Diana Wynn Jones (after a million zillion wonderful books) to read Alexander McCall Smith‘s book 44 Scotland Street which was originally written as a serialised novel in The Scotsman newspaper. Here’s a story about that. I quite like it – and I’m facinated by the idea of the format. How GREAT. How oldskool – I keep thinking about how the ‘soap opera’ or serialised drama format is as old as Dickens.
So it’s oldskool to love Firefly.
*I know I should have used the word ‘spectacle’ here, or made some reference to masculinity and scopophilia but really. That would would be wanky. And kind of dumb.

even The Squeeze watches it

ok, so now i need to know why every bloggging woman in australia is obsessed with chanel (which i keep reading as channel).

why do people like her? she really irritates me – she’s a bit smug. and not nearly as ‘out there’ as she’d like to think. just because ms hines thought that portishead song was really obscure, doesn’t mean it actually IS. i mean, it did rank in the mainstream charts for quite a while, if i recall (possibly incorrectly).

in fact, i don’t know why people watch this show. even The Squeeze watches it. he who declared that reality television was ‘amoral’ before stomping out of the room mid-way through big brother last season.
my mum even watches this dire program.


it’s not like they do anything interesting. they just go on telly and preen and sing songs and cry. even the boy-toy hosts suck.

having said all that, that star search show is actually the closest i’ve come to teenager fashion in a while. i’m continually shocked by the toyboy hairdos.
and at uni yesterday (after giving my lecture TRIUMPHANTLY and triggering spontaneous applause and moderate audience participation) i saw a guy whose fashion was so ludicrous it made me laugh out loud.
now, i do have a history of laughing inappropriately, but gawddammn. WHAT is with this 70s surfer boy fashion revival? it was ridiculous in the day. and now, on the bodies of young wipper snappers who were born, like less than two decades ago (that means they were born in the EIGHTIES), it’s absolutely ridiculous.


yes, i am turning 30 next month. no, i do not have any ‘issues’ about it.