September 13th, 2005


Warren Ellis says Interesting Things

It's not as strange a piece of TV as CSI, which has gotten genuinely odd in its old age.  I saw a re-run from last season recently, and there's a two-minute sequence of William Petersen sluicing blood off a body on a metal tray put to "Sfevn-G-Englar" by Sigur Ros.  That's all it is.  Slowed down visuals of water washing blood off brushed steel.

Twenty years ago, that would've been an art film.  Now it's a musical interlude in a major US network show.

From today's Bad Signal about TV.

One step at a time

So, about two years after I had my shower ineptly fitted by a useless shower of wankers, I've finally got around to getting another plumber in to look at fixing it.  They dropped in just now, took a quick look at it, did the whole "sharp-intake-of-breath" thing, agreed with me that the people who fitted it shouldn't be allowed to touch bits of wood, and told me that to completely rip it out and reinstall it would be a two day job.  He'll get an estimate to me in a couple of days.

This is going to suck up the money I inherited from my grandmother, but it has to be done, and I'm glad I'm finally getting there.

Next - defrosting the freezer, and then sorting out dentist and doctor appointments.
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Because I have to...

1. Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal.


Back from the Filmhouse bar, where I met with tisme, eduard_green, 0olong, diotina, call_waiting and ratmist for a couple of drinks.  Was nice to see people - even if it was only for an hour and a half before they headed off to tisme's to examine the kitten, and I headed home.

It's damn windy out there, not quite up to New Orleans standards, but enough to intermittently rattle the windows and make it a tad tricky to make it through the first 5 pages of The Algebraist (which I started this evening, having finished my Bill Hicks book this afternoon).  I love lying in bed listening to the rain, but wind by itself doesn't really do it for me.  The sky looked rather pretty tonight, orange light reflected off of a few wispy clouds - rain seems remarkably unlikely.

Tomorrow is my yearly performance review, at which I will no doubt be told that I'm a workshy layabout and no more deserving of a raise than a cockroach.  At least that's how I always feel going in - the face that I pretty much universally get a "Sun shines from every orifice" review has little to no effect on my fear level going in...