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The good thing about two-Unisom nights is that they usually herald a treasure trove of interesting nocturnal wanderings.
The first, enough, found America's favorite LJer,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cleolinda, beset by the dreaded Phantom, who was armed with a...paintball gun. DUNNNN DUH DUH DUH DUH DUNNNN shtooof splat splat splat. Cleo kept flicking the lights on and off to dissuade the Phantom, and she called it her "Madame Giri Fire Drill." Hoo boy. I've been reading too much LJ.
The second struck me like something from out ofdragonscholar's impressive suite of random generators, specifically the media/fandom related. The cast of "Angel" -- circa fifth, final season (Wesley!) -- was at my grade school, attempting to resurrect Fred. Only catch: apparently this would involve the sacrifice of another's life. Lo and behold, apparently Wolfram & Hart was employing a very Knox-like chap by the name of Sebastian, and the consensus of the gathered was that he'd make a perfect volunteer, so they brought 'em in, and sure enough, he's Johnathan M. Woodward. This is what I get for finally making the connection that he had done a guest-shot on Buffy to complete the Mutant Enemy trifecta. Sigh.
The third I think is the result of playing too much Dungeon Siege and not revisiting my favorite trade paperbacks (or, admittedly, hardcovers), as the Thessalian was desperately trying to track down a book she needed -- the Tome of Thaumaturgical Ohm. Oy. Don't ask me, ask my subconscious. Apparently wherever she'd appropriated it from had burned down -- but the book wasn't inside, as it wouldn't have burned, of course. So she began backtracking through a very old-world college town, just a trifle Diagon Alley, through pubs and Gypsy-owned shoppes, and even to the office of one of my oldest friends from the English department, Dr. Michael Donnelly, a '70 Hahvahd grad who looks like Count Olaf, but is really half Prospero and half Dumbledore and brews his own beer to boot, and he can't read two lines of iambic pentameter without slipping fully into character. He's one of those people you dream about meeting at college. So I'm a little surprised when even his dream-counterpart can't help Thessaly and sort of clucks disapprovingly at her when she asks for guidance.
I think I can relate the first two to LJ- and TV-saturation, respectively. The third's more complicated. I did call an old friend over in the department yesterday -- I find myself stepping back about ten years in time. That was back when I was acquainted with someone who did not bear a striking resemblance to Thessaly, but was a dead ringer for her. And for whom I was a frighteningly open book, during a time when I was adjusting to the idea of being persistently and inadvertently inscrutable. It was an insight unprecedented...well, okay, maybe once...and it wasn't quite as welcome as I thought it'd be. But add to this thatgloomchen prompted to dig out my Genesis discography, and well, that puts my mindset distinctly back into the early 90's too -- another one of those shared interests. And finding songs I'd either never heard of or just forgot existed (with my memory, always a possibility) -- fantastic. I'm not saying rediscovering "Do the Neurotic" is the same as uncovering a lost Vermeer, but it's joyous in its own way. So maybe it's understandable that I'm on psychological rewind lately. Not nostalgic, certainly, but definitely retrospective, occasionally pleasantly, often not. Still stuck I was back then, lodged between who I felt comfortable as and who I needed to be to survive and maybe she was one of the catalysts, for better or worse.
If I'd only known. I would've gone mad. I was so much younger then. Hh.
And Gloomy's right. The new NIN is fantastic.
The first, enough, found America's favorite LJer,
cleolinda, beset by the dreaded Phantom, who was armed with a...paintball gun. DUNNNN DUH DUH DUH DUH DUNNNN shtooof splat splat splat. Cleo kept flicking the lights on and off to dissuade the Phantom, and she called it her "Madame Giri Fire Drill." Hoo boy. I've been reading too much LJ.The second struck me like something from out of
dragonscholar's impressive suite of random generators, specifically the media/fandom related. The cast of "Angel" -- circa fifth, final season (Wesley!) -- was at my grade school, attempting to resurrect Fred. Only catch: apparently this would involve the sacrifice of another's life. Lo and behold, apparently Wolfram & Hart was employing a very Knox-like chap by the name of Sebastian, and the consensus of the gathered was that he'd make a perfect volunteer, so they brought 'em in, and sure enough, he's Johnathan M. Woodward. This is what I get for finally making the connection that he had done a guest-shot on Buffy to complete the Mutant Enemy trifecta. Sigh.The third I think is the result of playing too much Dungeon Siege and not revisiting my favorite trade paperbacks (or, admittedly, hardcovers), as the Thessalian was desperately trying to track down a book she needed -- the Tome of Thaumaturgical Ohm. Oy. Don't ask me, ask my subconscious. Apparently wherever she'd appropriated it from had burned down -- but the book wasn't inside, as it wouldn't have burned, of course. So she began backtracking through a very old-world college town, just a trifle Diagon Alley, through pubs and Gypsy-owned shoppes, and even to the office of one of my oldest friends from the English department, Dr. Michael Donnelly, a '70 Hahvahd grad who looks like Count Olaf, but is really half Prospero and half Dumbledore and brews his own beer to boot, and he can't read two lines of iambic pentameter without slipping fully into character. He's one of those people you dream about meeting at college. So I'm a little surprised when even his dream-counterpart can't help Thessaly and sort of clucks disapprovingly at her when she asks for guidance.
I think I can relate the first two to LJ- and TV-saturation, respectively. The third's more complicated. I did call an old friend over in the department yesterday -- I find myself stepping back about ten years in time. That was back when I was acquainted with someone who did not bear a striking resemblance to Thessaly, but was a dead ringer for her. And for whom I was a frighteningly open book, during a time when I was adjusting to the idea of being persistently and inadvertently inscrutable. It was an insight unprecedented...well, okay, maybe once...and it wasn't quite as welcome as I thought it'd be. But add to this that
gloomchen prompted to dig out my Genesis discography, and well, that puts my mindset distinctly back into the early 90's too -- another one of those shared interests. And finding songs I'd either never heard of or just forgot existed (with my memory, always a possibility) -- fantastic. I'm not saying rediscovering "Do the Neurotic" is the same as uncovering a lost Vermeer, but it's joyous in its own way. So maybe it's understandable that I'm on psychological rewind lately. Not nostalgic, certainly, but definitely retrospective, occasionally pleasantly, often not. Still stuck I was back then, lodged between who I felt comfortable as and who I needed to be to survive and maybe she was one of the catalysts, for better or worse.If I'd only known. I would've gone mad. I was so much younger then. Hh.
And Gloomy's right. The new NIN is fantastic.