bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
Last week was one of those that drags until all you're looking forward to is a chance to sleep and have an entire uninterrupted day at your disposal. Then came Friday, and the sheer indolent pleasure of spending the night in bed reading a book fresh from Amazon cover-to-cover and then going to sleep was a total cure. It'd been far too long since I'd read a book in one sitting, and this one surpassed expectations. God, I love literature. Would say more but I've sent [ profile] catilinarian my copy and don't want to spoil things.

My paper proposal has been accepted to the Slayage conference on the Whedonverses, so I'll be down at Gordon College in Georgia for Memorial Day weekend. The letter I got last night said mine was one of 150 presentations chosen (!), with another 150 attendees expected from five countries. Diversity has nothing on Accio, but there will be about twice as many people and a higher chance that some of them live around here.

Dashed off a letter to the editor of Newsday on Saturday after one of their big movie reviewers took a potshot at fans. The first sentence of the review was: "Like devotees of 'Star Wars,' or Harry Potter novels or new Xboxes, avid readers of C.S. Lewis' children's classics will be so excited that the object of their obsession has hit the screen at last that the quality of the product will be rendered moot." (Full text available for a little while here.) A few months ago this might have elicited an ill-defined sense of rage or resentment, but reading all these defense-of-fandom articles helped me articulate the reasons behind those emotions and equipped me with a nice set of linguistic tools for the note. They haven't printed it but at least someone read it. I'm just getting tired of being made fun of or brushed off for being "a fan" of something.

Anyhow, with all this going on, plus updating the journal bibliography and working on an essay on homosexual overtones in a Deep Space Nine episode for a fan club newsletter, I've felt pretty accomplished lately. I should probably be worried that my self-worth is measured in word count.

The A&E Goblet of Fire special re-ran (again) last night. I'd had the Lord of the Rings marathon on in the background while I worked on that ST essay but clicked back for Ralph Fiennes' little monologue and found it just as sexy as last time. I'd neglected to note the part where, talking about Voldemort testing his new body, as he shifts his shoulders he also bounces in his chair, maybe 10 times, gently, probably by bouncing his knee below-camera. He's going to be at Lincoln Center tonight for a double-bill film screening and Q&A. Another reason to consider moving to the city.

The long-lost [ profile] synn and I watched a winner called "Latter Days" Saturday night in which a superficial, promiscuous young California gay man falls for a Mormon missionary-in-training from Idaho who moves into his apartment complex and turns out to be suppressing his own heretical homosexuality. One learns to slow down and care, one risks losing everything he's known to be true to himself, self-denial and misunderstandings abound, blah blah, but unexpected offbeat humor and a generous helping of angst carried it through. With a surfeit of tasteful male nudity for those so inclined. Recommended.


Style Credit


RSS Atom