House Ipsissimus - A Very Strange Place To Be

Nov. 10th, 2007

01:15 pm - Minogue Returns and So Do I: Wobble, Brace, Heave and Relax

When I was a kid I kept a diary.

I sucked at that as well.

Still, I've resorted to telling myself that I'm only going to be posting here when I have something to say. As someone tres fabulous once said, the final step is lying to yourself.

And what then have I got to talk about now? What could be so important, so moving, so profoundly life-affecting that it shunted me squealing from beneath my comfy damp rock into the harsh light of the cruel, cruel sun?

Three words.

The. Kylie. Show.

To start with... remix of 'Can't Get You Out of My Head' [CGYOOMH]. Incredible, wasn't it? Though it really, really reminded me of some X track - like the vocals had been layered over one of the new ones. Obviously it hadn't, but I couldn't shake the feeling... maybe it sounded a bit like 'I'm Ready' [sidebar: love that, why is it not on the disc? tsk]. Oh well. Plus, right at the beginning, when the show logo comes up and just before the performance actually kicks in, there's this annoying 'blllrp' which sounds exactly like the doorbell to my apartment. I've watched it three times now [cough] and each time at that bit I think I hear the bell and get up to let some imaginary caller in - seriously.

The outfits. Last night [when I was what might be politely termed as 'buzzing like a nun on crack', not that I was on crack mind you, although who knows what Tescos put in the cheap red wine] I loved the cruh-zazy looks. Now I'm sober [and my head hurts] and I think the only good outfits were CGYOOMH, The One, Tears on My Pillow [TOMP], 2Hearts, I Believe in You and - if I'm feling generous - Cosmic. The others - eugh. Especially WOW. And No More Rain [NMR] looked like three good outfits chopped up and glued together with truly abysmal make-up.

The new songs. Just great, aren't they? Love The One soooo much, and NMR and Cosmic are so much better than expected. I've always loved Sensitized and was not disappointed. TOMP was utterly, utterly beautiful and showed off her very polished voice [yes I know it wasn't live, but unless she's got Rick Astley in her basement chain-sucking the helium from party balloons I'm assuming that she did at some point sing the song]. Couldn't get over the fact that she looked a heck of a lot like Alyssa Milano [Phoebe in Charmed], which freaked me out a bit. Loved GTBC... finally my malicious threatening correspondence worked! Now let's see if we can get Madonna to break out Borderline on her next tour...

The sketches were very funny, moreso than expected [especially the Jason one, given all that stuff in the papers about how she dropped him from White Diamond as she no longer liked him as a person]... but then I've always had a bit of a crush on Matt Horne [I'm a bit weird, did I mention that?]. Looking forward to Voyage of the Damned now [not that I wasn't anyway, rabid Who fan that I am - have you heard, she might come back?].

What else? Oh, loved the performance of 2Hearts, and I realised why I like it so: she really enjoys performing it. Look at her, she's having such a ball playing rock star! Bless. Adore the bit where she swings the mic into the audience, keep expecting her to twat some poor bastard in the face with it.

"Use the whip you big fairy" is my new catchphrase [you wouldn't belive how many times I've used it already]. Also loved the end of that scene 'I'm gonna pull that *** telly out of the *** wall', growled off-screen. But... after she smacked Dannii about quoting 'Lucky', what was Dannii's response? [hoping for 'put the needle on it, BIATCH!!!', but could be wrong].

My one gripe - and it's actually fairly major - is that is seemed really choppy. The sketches were good, the songs were good. Getting from one to the other and back again wasn't. It's like 'here's Kylie in her dressing room. Here's Kylie dancing in a box with some mirrors. Here's retro sixties Kylie with some women of ill-repute'. It was bizarre.

That and the Bronco thing. She looked so uncomfortable, especially when she hoiks her leg over at the start. Wobble, brace... heave... and relax.

Until next time, Kittens. Just... don't hold your breath.

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Jun. 8th, 2007

02:13 am - The Low-Flying Flag

In case you didn't already know, it's Gay Pride month.

Woo!

At the moment though I'm sick. I'm home from work, I'm tired and achey and barfy, and really too ill to do anything particularly gay or proud. I try to keep my head high as I march briskly to the bathroom but that's about it.

Which is a shame, because I'd picked today to start writing my greatest, campest opus in celebration.

So I'm going back to bed now, to try and save my energy for something very very gay and extra-proud upon my recovery. Which will hopefully be soon; after all, it's probably just someone I ate.

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Jun. 7th, 2007

01:38 pm - Maintaining the Order

Ugh. I suck at updates. It's not even like my life is busy and exciting enough to provide an excuse [but then, maybe that's the problem].

Today, for example, I rearranged the Apartment. This consisted mostly of shuffling a few bookshevles around, deciding what to put on which shelf, and stubbing my toe a lot. But in the process, I learnt two things.

One: I should wear shoes when moving shelves.

The second is a bit more amorphous, and nags at me in quite a frustrating way. I'm a big fan of a certain long-running TV show, which over the course of forty-four years has become riddled with so many contradictions and bizarre tangents it starts to resemble a holy book. And although the two things coexist to such an extent I can't tell which came first, being a fan goes hand-in-hand with being an obsessive, pedantically organised freak.

Not in any other area of my life, I have to point out. Shuffling those shelves around was complicated by the need to avoid gathering piles of socks and CDs and tentacled beings evolved from old bits of toast, and my desk at work hasn't been tidy and ordered since I started my job. But where this series is concerned, things need to make sense. There's an order, and it must be protected.

I like other TV. I've got shelves of DVD sets ranging from Will & Grace to the X-Files to Family Guy and Teachers. But that's easy; neat little season boxes that sit together in a tidy little line. They don't need or receive my care and attention. But that one mammoth bookcase stuffed with perfectly ordered DVDs, videos, books, CDs and impractically-shaped boxed sets that make up the groaning history of Doctor Who is maintained to a frightening standard.

The thing is, it's not just keeping the stuff in order. This show, more than any other I've ever seen or heard about, is alive. It grows by the day, with a large number of companies [Virgin publishing, Big Finish productions, BBV, Reel Time, and obviously the BBC itself] contributing to what is more now than just a set of TV episodes. Hundreds of writers, directors, editors, producers over the years, layering up a complex and cast-iron continuity.

See, I've developed this skill. I can take two sources of contradictory information, and make them make sense. It's something that I think a lot of Who fans have developed; a necessary tool to maintain order in an untidy world.

I mean series.

I'm a writer. Well, I aspire to be. And that means knocking out the occasional piece of fan fiction, to develop my weaker areas and hone my craft [nothing to do with being a rabid fanboy at all, cough...]. You wouldn't believe the number of good ideas, workable ideas, made-sense-when-badger-drunk ideas I've had to throw out because I just can't make them fit. I'm afraid if I try - if I suggest that, actually, Sarah might have died in '87 fighting Drashings or Turlough is the first Romana and sixth Doctor's lovechild - I might do myself a serious mischief.

And, finally, after spending far too much time sitting on my floor demanding that my remote control Dalek explain to me why Tucker and Perry decided to punish me - specifically me - by making sure that I could never comfortably slip my PDAs between my NAs, I decided that I don't care anymore. So I've got Excelis Decays next to Gallifrey: Lies, Auton III between The Mutants and The Happiness Patrol, and I've thrown Speed of Flight at the wall because I just don't like it. I'm going to write that story about the Watcher, the Master, and Cardinal Braxiatel's bottom, and then I'm going to reorder my entire collection by how pretty I think the covers are.

And then I'm going to write Sarah Jane Smith's comprehensive time line, and cry myself to sleep.

Current Location: The Apartment

Current Mood: dorky

Current Music: The tinny sound of the world's smallest violin

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May. 20th, 2007

12:02 pm - Promises We Never Keep

Hmm.

I created this little LJ account almost two months ago now. I did so for the sole purpose of commenting on and posting to a particular community - a wondrous place full of fabulous fiction, dedicated to Sarah Jane Smith - in case you don't know, that's a character from British TV show Doctor Who, played with vigour and wit by Elisabeth Sladen [if that's your sort of thing, then head over to Girl Reporter at sarahjane_fic - you won't be disappointed].

Of course in the meantime I've only managed to post two stories.

The point is I made a promise to myself, back then in the arse-end of March [if you're keeping score, it was the two-year anniversary of NuWho], that I would become an active member of that community and also provide an intersting if somewhat random distraction from mundane reality with an excessively wordy, frequently-updated blog. And I've completely failed to do either.

When I said I'd joined LJ to post to this community, I actually meant I'd joined so that I could enter their new and interesting ficathon, celebrating the one-year anniversary of Sarah's return to Doctor Who. Today sees the results of that ficathon finally published - including my humble and angst-ridden effort - and I thought, well, I might as well keep the other half of that promise I made to myself two months ago, when I was young and vibrant [and didn't even have access to the Internet at home - not sure how I thought I was going to manage it...]

So that's why this journal exists. And why this entry exists. Not why I exist; that's a long story for another day, which involves alcohol, older men, and decidedly loose morals.