2) I am apparently at that stage of tinhattery where I will read *anything*, no matter how dreadful, because it's got the people I want to read about in it. I've been here before. I didn't like it.
2a) People who write Martha Jones/Donna Noble femmeslash called it MaDonna. Well, of course they do.
2b) If you've not been there, go watch this vid: Don't Lose Yourself. It is brilliant.
2c) ChisWICK, people. Look on a map.
2d) I love fandom. Well, I don't *love* fandom in the febrile nether stirrings way, [I apologise for this image right now] but I love it in a deep abiding love sort of way. I love the fact that there are people out there, many of them American and thus forced to noodle about on YouTube looking at La Liga highlights from Saudi Arabian broadcast TV, who write lengthy slash series about Sergio Ramos and Fernando Torres or the deep abiding love of Steven Gerrard for Xabi Alonso. Much of the slash seems to centre on Liverpool and Real Madrid/Barcelona. Cos they're the prettiest. No one wants to slash Rio Ferdinand.
I haven't been reading it. No, really, I haven't. There are *some* limits. Not many, but some.
And no one gives Wayne Rooney any love. I suspect it may be a looking-like-Shrek issue. They only want to write about footballers with long flowing hair. Apparently there's some huge shipping war going on right now, a complicated thing to do with the Spanish national team and I think there were Germans involved and it was all very tortured and a spectacle demanding popcorn. I am quite glad I've lost the link.
However, it is amusing to transport oneself back in time and imagine 18-year-olds writing slash about the European Cup-winning Liverpool teams of the 70s and 80s. Mostly because of the thought of Graeme Souness finding out about it.
3) Oh *God* when does the football season start? It seems like years since I was at Wembley, beside myself with excitement, alongside thousands of other fans who were practically widdling themselves with joy, bellowing "Deeeeeanoooooo!" and singing "Show Me The Way To Amarillo" like their lives depended on it. Footballers are knob-ends but I love football.
4) Me and a friend, who is in Milan, drinking cocktails right now, the jammy bastard, were having this discussion about the new rules of modern communication and I was wondering which hold true for you
Is it now weird and creepy to phone someone on their home landline
In London the rule is drinks with colleagues on Thursday, drinks with friends on Friday. Is this the rule for you?
R thinks it's creepy that you should call someone on their landline because you are deliberately evading their call filtering process on their mobile. M thinks that you save Friday nights for mates, which is why London is full of drunk people on a Thursday -- and oh my God, if you've ever caught the last train out of Liverpool Street on Thursday you know the true meaning of the word drunk.
5) In "the credit crunch is just something that happens to other people" news, I was talking to this bloke the other day who had just spent £700 on a meal for three at a Japanese restaurant. Oh, when will the glorious socialist revolution happen?
6) I went to see The Dark Knight today. If it were a boyfriend, it would be the devastatingly good-looking one who dressed all in black, practised a martial art and insisted on quoting from L'Etranger in French and discussing the darkness in his soul at endless bloody length. And you're all lovely to him and put up with him quoting Nietzche in bed and then he chucks you for a wilder woman and the next time you see him he's in slacks and working for NatWest. Hmmm. I seem to have come off the rails at the end there a bit.
Seriously, I have seldom seen a movie more pompously impressed with itself and also hopped up on its own violence. It should also have been called "Harvey Dent" since that's what it was about. I am not saying it is a bad movie, just that it is a bit pretentious and in love with itself and with extreme violence which would in reality kill scores of people and I don't like those two things much. However, Michael Caine was joy. Also, aside from Melissa Scully, did any woman with lines actually survive that film? And did they even bother giving Gordon's other wee sprite of a kid a name? I am assuming it was a girl, since they didn't. I am *really* getting sick of that.
7) Which leads me on to this: I have forgiven in shows/films I love *far* greater flaws than I saw in The Dark Knight. I have this theory that some entertainmenty things -- books, films, graphic novels, TV shows -- are like friends and some are like family.
You might cut a friend off if s/he does something which is offensive and awful but for family you accommodate and explain and make allowances for hideous script issues, bad writing, appalling subtext, sometimes to the point of madness.
And when family betray you past the point of forgiveness, that's when the bitterness kicks in. Hence the "I am *never* watching this show again" posts you see after finales. I completely understand the mindset.
For further ref, shows which are family to me: Doctor Who, The X-Files, DS9, Spooks (but I am teetering, man, seriously teetering...), The West Wing
What's family to you?