clevermanka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clevermanka) wrote2011-10-25 11:44 am
clevermanka) wrote2011-10-25 11:44 am
Entry tags:
Sentimentalism--no pestilence has ever been so fatal, or so hideous
I'm still on a nostalgia kick. It seems I'm being aided and abetted by a host of outside influences, too. Reminders of my past life, let me show you them.
Some of you are Most of you are Pretty much every single person who has stopped by here even momentarily is well aware that I've been on somewhat of a total Due South kick obsession lately. I stumbled upon some really good slashfic a couple months ago, then started to watch fanvids, and finally went straight to the source by watching clips from the show on YouTube. Then ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nottygypsy mentioned that she, too, loved the show and then she bought the whole series on DVD for us to watch on our henna days because she loves me that much. Apparently, she also loves Benton Fraser that much, too*.
The whole situation makes me so so happy because I can't imagine a better person to fangirl with. I don't know that she'll share with me the joy of those No Heterosexual Explanation Moments,** but picture it: Someone who will squee with me over the charm (and total hotness) of the show, while not succumbing to insipid sentimentalism. Also, I don't imagine she will put up too much of a fight if I ask to rewind certain scenes or pause on certain frames.
OH, FRASER.
Next subject (insert general sigh of relief from you poor bastards bored enough to still be reading this)! Back in the day when answering machines still used cassette tapes (and we still used answering machines), I used to keep the messages left by my upstairs neighbor, Mark Smirl.*** I would save them up until I had a few at a time, and then copy them over to another tape on which I had various spoken-word performances. If you'd heard them, you'd agree that Smirl's voice mail messages were, indeed, spoken-word performances. Also on that tape was a Halloween KJHK broadcast of William S. Burroughs reading The Masque of the Red Death. By dumb luck, I happened across a two-part recording of it on YouTube. The sound quality is even worse than it was on my recorded-from-the-radio cassette, but give it a listen anyway. Burroughs reading my favorite Poe story, man. So. Awesome.
And no, I have no fucking clue what happened to that cassette tape. Heartbreak.
Because I rarely do anything without involving fashion or some other appearance-related topic, I am resolved to wear more ties. I looked great in ties in high school. Why did I stop wearing them? Why did I get rid of them when I went to college? My goal is to wear a tie to work at least once a week. To achieve this without putting undue pressure on the same button-down shirts, I'll be hitting the thrift stores soon. But not this weekend. Thrifting the weekend before Halloween is a bad idea. Something to consider for anyone considering getting rid of quality vintage items: In the 80s, a vintage tie cost me a quarter. On Sunday, I purchased two fifties-era skinny ties for $4.50 each. Although that's the top of my budget for such things, I'm betting $4.50 would be considered a steal in some places. Don't toss your vintage ties. Give them to me. After finding this clever little tutorial on turning a wide tie into a skinny tie, I'll even take some of those scary 70s-era monsters. No paisley or big stripes, though, thanks.
The slow re-integration of myself into bellydance is stirring up a lot of stuff for me. Not all of it good. She Who Shall Not Be Named sent me a friend request on F-book, of course. Which I denied, of course. And set it so she could not send me future requests, of course. I'm also coming up against a lot of body issues, which largely manifest in my not wanting to do a damn thing besides sit on the couch and read porn while drinking booze. Not healthy. I know. I'm shockingly good at self-sabotage. You'd never know it, would you? I am sneaky and clever that way. I did get up to do a pathetically minimal amount of exercise this morning. Gold star, I guess. A small one. I'm looking at a very short-term opportunity to make an appearance in the local bellydance scene, though, and I need to get on it if I'm gonna. Shit or get off the pot, sister.
Last in this memory parade? I miss my cat. A co-worker nearly lost his kitty over the weekend, androya_spirit reports that Pablo isn't doing well again. It all reminds me of Fetish and her last, sad, slow year and I miss the spry, happy kitty she was in the 90s.
Hell, I miss the spry, happy kitty that I was in the 90s.
Time to stop.
*I'm done with the strike tags for this entry. I promise.
**Although maybe she will, I dunno. We have not yet discussed this although we have discussed Many Other Things about the show.
***Who did not have dreads at the time, and thus did not fall into my category of Dirty White Hippie Loser.
nottygypsy mentioned that she, too, loved the show and then she bought the whole series on DVD for us to watch on our henna days because she loves me that much. Apparently, she also loves Benton Fraser that much, too*.The whole situation makes me so so happy because I can't imagine a better person to fangirl with. I don't know that she'll share with me the joy of those No Heterosexual Explanation Moments,** but picture it: Someone who will squee with me over the charm (and total hotness) of the show, while not succumbing to insipid sentimentalism. Also, I don't imagine she will put up too much of a fight if I ask to rewind certain scenes or pause on certain frames.
OH, FRASER.
Next subject (insert general sigh of relief from you poor bastards bored enough to still be reading this)! Back in the day when answering machines still used cassette tapes (and we still used answering machines), I used to keep the messages left by my upstairs neighbor, Mark Smirl.*** I would save them up until I had a few at a time, and then copy them over to another tape on which I had various spoken-word performances. If you'd heard them, you'd agree that Smirl's voice mail messages were, indeed, spoken-word performances. Also on that tape was a Halloween KJHK broadcast of William S. Burroughs reading The Masque of the Red Death. By dumb luck, I happened across a two-part recording of it on YouTube. The sound quality is even worse than it was on my recorded-from-the-radio cassette, but give it a listen anyway. Burroughs reading my favorite Poe story, man. So. Awesome.
And no, I have no fucking clue what happened to that cassette tape. Heartbreak.
Because I rarely do anything without involving fashion or some other appearance-related topic, I am resolved to wear more ties. I looked great in ties in high school. Why did I stop wearing them? Why did I get rid of them when I went to college? My goal is to wear a tie to work at least once a week. To achieve this without putting undue pressure on the same button-down shirts, I'll be hitting the thrift stores soon. But not this weekend. Thrifting the weekend before Halloween is a bad idea. Something to consider for anyone considering getting rid of quality vintage items: In the 80s, a vintage tie cost me a quarter. On Sunday, I purchased two fifties-era skinny ties for $4.50 each. Although that's the top of my budget for such things, I'm betting $4.50 would be considered a steal in some places. Don't toss your vintage ties. Give them to me. After finding this clever little tutorial on turning a wide tie into a skinny tie, I'll even take some of those scary 70s-era monsters. No paisley or big stripes, though, thanks.
The slow re-integration of myself into bellydance is stirring up a lot of stuff for me. Not all of it good. She Who Shall Not Be Named sent me a friend request on F-book, of course. Which I denied, of course. And set it so she could not send me future requests, of course. I'm also coming up against a lot of body issues, which largely manifest in my not wanting to do a damn thing besides sit on the couch and read porn while drinking booze. Not healthy. I know. I'm shockingly good at self-sabotage. You'd never know it, would you? I am sneaky and clever that way. I did get up to do a pathetically minimal amount of exercise this morning. Gold star, I guess. A small one. I'm looking at a very short-term opportunity to make an appearance in the local bellydance scene, though, and I need to get on it if I'm gonna. Shit or get off the pot, sister.
Last in this memory parade? I miss my cat. A co-worker nearly lost his kitty over the weekend, and
roya_spirit reports that Pablo isn't doing well again. It all reminds me of Fetish and her last, sad, slow year and I miss the spry, happy kitty she was in the 90s. Hell, I miss the spry, happy kitty that I was in the 90s.
Time to stop.
*I'm done with the strike tags for this entry. I promise.
**Although maybe she will, I dunno. We have not yet discussed this although we have discussed Many Other Things about the show.
***Who did not have dreads at the time, and thus did not fall into my category of Dirty White Hippie Loser.