Feb. 10th, 2009

handful_ofdust: (meaning to write)
...are all my head seems currently filled with, since just putting two fucking words together in sequence has suddenly become a monumental strain. I'd like to blame at least part of the way I currently feel on the fact that there are 100-foot brushfires still raging through sections of Australia; yes, the ones near Melbourne are apparently under control, but it's scary nonetheless, because that's where my Dad lives (and the sheer difficulty of getting in touch with him to just ask how he is simply goes to remind me how far away we are from each other, lit and fig).

Otherwise, no Rod today, and Cal is crazycrazyCRAZY. No pants, Shrieky McShriek-type crazy. And last night's Heroes may have finally pushed me to the place where I'm less "no, I still like it, no matter what" and more "fifty per cent awesome, fifty per cent BIG HUGE WTF". The awesome includes Sylar getting himself a Renfieldian sidekick/Mini-Me named Luke, aka Microwave Boy. The WTF, OTOH, includes Nathan somehow being able to constantly shrug off the fact that every super his super-arresting program arrests tends to yell: "You're one of us, why are you doing this?!?" right in front of, like, God and everybody. Or Claire, who was startlingly active and plot-driving last week, doing very little except sulk this week, while her Two Dads fought over her loudly (again, in front of God and everybody). Also, is Daphne actually dead? Way to not punch that particular development! Etc.

In other TV-related nothing much, I've decided that Robyn Hitchcock's "Judas Sings (Jesus and Me)", while also perfect for Mac Roke, was pretty much Intelligently Designed as the go-to track to do a full-arc Battlestar Galactica Baltar/Gaeta vid to. So...somebody should get on that.;) I particularly love how the second and third line progression is: Nothing can save you, not even the phone/This is the intersection of bad luck and dope..., because--seriously, man. It's like Moore and Eick just KNEW.

All right: Back in. Please Christ, let something catch fire before I have to go work out. (After would also be okay.)

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