sundries

[rm]

Last night, I think I had vertigo in my sleep or something. I woke up (from a dream about Inception because er somehow (i.e., I got asked on Twitter) I'm cosplaying Arthur for a photoshoot at Gally) at about 3am, over-heated, itchy, and feeling like I was going to throw up. It got a little better when I took the eye-mask off, and much worse when I put it back on. It was weird, and sort of frightening, and the room was a bit spinny. Eventually, I fell back to sleep and feel fine this morning. What the fuck? And yeah, "use it in fiction," I know.

Right, so, Arthur. Mostly because I can phone that in. Own the clothes, more or less, don't have to fret about my slight build and angular face. It'll rock. Although, I'll tell you the truth, it's Eames's ridiculous wardrobe I love the most, but as much as I could actually pull that off (because, my dears, I can do anything), it would be a lot more work, for a character I don't particularly identify with (not that I identify with Arthur either) and hence, am uninspired. So hey, Arthur!

I am toying with two really different, really odd ideas for this week's WIAD. Not sure what'll happen.

Hey, if I say it in public, feel free to address it in public. Y'all know that's how I work, yeah?

Patty showed me this one of the other day. damned_colonial's multi-fandom vid, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman is completely awesome, particularly evocative of all the best things about the recent Marie Antoinette, and makes me wish I was better at being a woman, because I want all those dresses and wigs, I do.

In Portland? Duchess is having a sample sale. And, I believe my new shirts are arriving today. V. excited, and, as ever, slightly emotional.

Meanwhile a tailor who makes house calls and blogs has run afoul of the Savile Row tailors he claims as his peers. And, oh yeah, article has a long digression that makes me want to get into an argument with all involved parties about the meaning of bespoke, because no, wrong.

Mystery of the Bermuda Triangle solved. I can't quite explain my emotional response to this one.

I will deal with closing out graduate_maria auctions tonight. Thanks all! Totals and news soon.

Should food be a right?

Paul Krugman on the economy, the politics of the economy, and the streetlights going out.

Oh man, do I miss poptarts. Poptart flagship coming to Times Square.

I miss the UK so much, I actually care about the Underground Rebel Bingo Club.

More random notes on my WIAD story this week: The narrator may or may not be Llinos, the only other named member of the 1941 team. Maybe Llinos is there in 1939, maybe she's not there yet. Maybe this is a different girl or boy who is dead by the time Llinos joins the team -- I did want the story to work with either gender narrating, and I think it's a sad, suffocating story either way, just differently.

1939 is also pre-rationing. Some things were surely hard to get by then, but Jack's actions probably feel somewhat bizarre in a number of ways to the rest of the team, but there's a war coming, and it's Jack, so what are you gonna do?

Jack was also a freelancer during this time. I had wanted to find a way, but couldn't find an overt way, to make it clear that with the war coming, suddenly, he actually wants to spend a lot more time around Torchwood than usual, that he is doing these things not to run his own scam, but to offer what kindnesses he can.

Weird crap I researched for this, much of which didn't make it into the fic including the invention of and commercial sale of the biro, a subject which I now know way too much about. Additionally, that summer, specifically July, remains the second rainiest on record in Cardiff. I obsess because I care.

Last night on Buffy: Coup d'Etat! Coup d'Etat! This whole return of Faith thing is the first time I've really liked her. And you know who is amazing and is leadership all over? Dawn. Probably can't make a military plan (okay, none of them can, but even in the world of the show, she can't), but damn, she's totally the head office, kicking Buffy out.

Comments

[dremiel.livejournal.com]

In kinder and first grade my son adored pink in every shade, the hotter the better, and wanted a pair of hot pink sneakers. They made him gloriously happy. A teacher (not his) pulled me aside one day to warn me that he would get teased for them and I ask her (and later his teacher) if she was aware of any actual bullying around the issue and found there had been none. I guess if he'd been teased about them he could have made the call himself and decided to wear them or not. He wore out/outgrew three more pair before his allegiance turned to lime green. We never heard a word about it from anyone other than that one anxious teacher.

In fifth grade, when many of the boys were wearing their hair long (as The Boy still is) the Social Studies teacher had a rule that if she couldn't see your face you had to clip your hair back in her class. She bought the most outrageous, glittery, pink butterfly clips - I guess hoping the boys would brush hair back to avoid them - and it became a contest to see who would have to clip first everyday! It was a status symbol to have a big pink glitter clip! When she brought in plain headbands nobody wanted to wear them.

[trinker.livejournal.com]

Loff.