My local newsletter is carrying a message as an advertisement that says quite a lot. About a few things, with regards to the area where I live, the people who live there, and the fact that it can seriously get printed.
Under the 'lost' section...
PRESCRIPTION GLASSES - lost on Jilliby Rd. near wallaby carcass. Urgently needed.
So... is it necessary for me to add anything to that? My parents and I have been laughing over this for some time and considering the myriad questions posed - why did he feel the need to examine the wallaby carcass with his glasses? Why does he expect everyone to know where to find the wallaby carcass? Why is he so sure that he left them there - and if they're urgently needed, why hasn't he got off his arse and gotten them?
Rural areas. You can keep them...
This month on this blog, I promise... NOTHING.
I think this is reasonable because in the event that something IS posted, it can be seen as surplus to requirements. I mean, sure, you may think that it would be reasonable for the remainder of Season 4 of Doctor Who to be reviewed in the space of this month, considering that the entire season ends something in the wee-est hours of Sunday morning, but on the other hand, wouldn't it be even better to read them in December, by which the time the series has truly had the time to sink in, and to distract you from rumours about the terrible nature of Leee John's performance in The Christmas Genocide?
More stuff that I am specifically not promising is that Calypso 5 script I mentioned, a critical response to Kaldor City, and a comic I drew in primary school that [by a nose] outdoes TVComic for sheer WTFness I found whilst going through my old stuff for fire-fuel.
In part the lack of activity over the last month has been distractions, mostly involving complicated real estate arrangements that all came to nought, because of the fact that although the owners of a house we were looking at were interested in doing a deal with us, the realtors were kind enough to go behind everybody's backs to tell their lawyers to not begin writing up a contract for us to sign until a couple from Sydney got a full building inspection, arranged their finances and paid LESS than what we were offering.
Because they could pay quicker. And if there's one thing you want if you're selling your house, it's for the people who've worked hard to sell it receiving their commission very quickly.
Temptation to go Glengarry Glenn Ross on their sorry arses was overwhelming.
I mentioned Doctor Who in that last post, didn't I? I know, I can't stop. I think it may have lead to the stage where it's saturated my being to some sort of genetic disorder. If I can adopt the most ludicrous of hypotheticals, I imagine that if I actually got married and had a child, it would emerge from the dilated bajingo along with a lenght of rainbow coloured scarf, causing the surgeons to gasp in wonderment that it seemed to fashion knitting needles from its vestigal fingernails.
And them somebody would doubtless ask the question of what all that wool was doing in her uterus to begin with and the hypothetical gets a bit sketchy, but I don't think it's beyond the realms of belief if we assume that I develop some sort of hand-puppet-fisting fetish in the far future.
Anyway, avoiding spoilers has traditionally ("Traditionally!" It's only been on for four fucking years, I must be going mad...) my game with the New Series. I was, and I am quite proud to this, oblivious to both Daleks in Doomsday and the YANA moment in Utopia. Not that the former did much for me beyond the cliffhanger moment where I pretty much shouted "You have to be fucking kidding me!", but the latter was wonderfully rewarding, especially when I looked back, realising that had I known what would transpire the entire episode loses it's point to an alarming degree.
BUT... this year is different. I don't know why, but it may be when you hear about fanfic that crosses the line to fanwank, and you demand to know just how bad it gets. Like, reading the blurb for Warmonger isn't enough. You need to read the reviews and let your jaw hang open at the prospect of a story that would bother to bring back the Gaztaks, and that it is also one where the Draconians, Sontarans and Cybermen also appear and the author has decided that the Gaztaks REALLY need to be among them. Then you actually read the book because you believe nothing like this could ever seriously be published and your convinced that it's some sort of Torchwood style drugs-in-the-water-supply mass hallucination.
So, I know the two words spoken by David Tennant as he glows like the old man who eats the Skittles in those old ads - "I'm regenerating"
All of fandom is on the edge of their seats for the resolution to this bombiest of bombshells. Myself sadly included in this. The thing is that it is so very, very close to certain that the Doctor is NOT regenerating here that it seems odd for anybody to get excited, but then there is still the chance.. the slightest chance.. that this is not the case.
After all, we know that Eccleston's departure was a massive embarassment for the BBC when it happened and that they COULD be trying to make up for it now... we know that there is a history of hoaxing going on way back to the days of The Wife of Doctor Who and that the graveyard shots COULD be faked.. and... erm, is there any other justification for the mad hope.
For my own part, I say look at the records of the finale cliffhangers.
1) The Doctor will stop at NOTHING to rescue Rose from the Daleks!
2) The Daleks emerge from the voidsphere - they will do battle with the Cybermen!
3) The Toclafane descend from the skies - one tenth of the human race is doomed!
There is one thing in common with these - they are all dispensed off in the space of about a minute.
Yes, the Doctor wouldn't stop at anything to rescue Rose - but that's irrelevant because all he has to do is nip the TARDIS over, though he decides to dematerialise the TARDIS in the middle of space simply to reenact the finale from Timelash.
Yes, the Daleks emerge from the voidsphere and challenge the Cybermen - and kick their arses. And that's that.
Yes, the Toclafane do come to kill one tenth of the human race... and then they do so. One year later..
RTD is not a cliffhanger man. And he is working on tight 45 minute scripts, as well as liking long denouements (look at the times - often he gives himself around 10 minutes for resolution) and he is working on a story at the moment with more companion characters than any story aside from The Five Doctors. Does he have the time to introduce a new Doctor in that space of time? AND resolve the story? A clue: AHAHAHAHAHA, are you friggin' INSANE?
I'm not going to bother hedging my bets. David Tennant is going to stay David Tennant. Mark my words...
Unless RTD does prove me wrong. Then just humour me.
Something I never got around to posting about was the bloke who wanted to sue Alex Lloyd because he claimed that he had written Amazing. Or, more specifically, half of the song. On a beer napkin. All the predictable jokes were made about "He's BOASTING about writing Amazing???" with the air of all musical humour in which you get the impression all the critics work with the same set of punchlines from a book where every joke contains that words "[insert band name here]", but little actually looking into it.
The interesting thing was that Mr Beer-Napkin was remarkably specific about which bits of the song he had written, and thanks to my eidetic memory that functions on irrelevant errata and nothing else at all, I can reproduce it now...
When all you want to do is rock,
Cause you were amazing and we did amazing things,
And I wouldn't change it, cause we were amazing things.
And I really didn’t want that push today,
No, I really didn’t want to end this way.
But the things that seem to bind us,
Are the things we put behind us on this day.
It makes me wonder if the bloke really sat down and thoughtb of a way to make the claim credible, because he seems to have selected precisely (or close to it) 50% of the lyrics, neatly justifying his claimant to that specific portion of the mighty Lloyd-estate. He also seems to have picked the most meaningless parts of the song, which, when read, you notice are complete crap and are only bareable when sung.
My favourite element remains, however, that he apparently decided that the song should open with "All you wanna do is rock"... and was then entirely unable to think of anything at all to rhyme with 'rock' and handed it over.
The big flaw is, though, if you were pissed enough to write all that on a beer napkin... wouldn't it be a bit difficult to recall which bits you did? The bloke should be like Tom Baker - "Ahhh, yes, I remember that song we did together.. it was called That Push Me Today. I remember it, erm, mostly because there were very short skirts... involved somehow. Is this your round?"
I'm also going to have to be quite careful in that I now nearly have a job. And as I know all too well, having a job and a blog are not compatible.
So from hereon in, I shall be referred to as Herschell Skinq, a Latvian Orthodox champion watermelon chopper and CPA, who received renown in his hometown of Pubh Rush for appearing on Collectors one evening showing Andy Muirhead his assortment of rare Nazi propaganda posters photoshopped to contain Andrew Denton. I am forty-three years old, live in a co-habitation with my life partners R. Marsland and Muhammad Jaffar where I work on my next novel in the phenomenally unpopular Melodramatic Blond Female Detective Talks Like Man and Takes No Prisoners! series. As a pastime I maintain a blog purporting to be authored by the utterly fictitious character of "Man with gun" AKA Jared "No Nickname" Hansen, who may bear a passing resemblance to a real life Jared Hansen, currently on placement as a BALLOON ENGINEER at TONKA TRAVER'S IMAGINORIUM in NEU MALAYSIA.
It is not a library of any description.
Phew, that should keep the lawyers away...
Finally, something odd just to add here. Something that keeps slipping into my mind unbidden and I want it frankly to get the hell out. We had a lovely white cat named Snowball and it died - that's not the big deal, it's just something that happens even though it was quite sad. But the thing is that Snowball was either criminally insane, or believed himself to be a dog - he took long walks in the paddocks on his own, he had proper scraps with the other dogs, he wanted to chase goats and cars, he thought fish was strictly for poofs and a few other things like that. The only cat he ever saw he pretty much tried to kill and slept side by side with our dogs in front of the fire.
Then he died, as always seems to happen, with some medical assistance and was brought back from the vet in a bin-liner in a car. But as my dad was coming up the driveway, I heard a noise and looked up our hillside and saw a dog I'd never seen before - almost entirely snow white but dappled with brown spots and with a shiny, jingling collar hanging off it's neck - bounding down the hill with a big dopy grin on its face. It ran down towards a small orchard on our property, directly in front of my dad's approaching ute and disappeared from my sight in an instant.
I assume that this was a mistake on the part of my eyes and that it was our Boxer pup, Hector, that I saw running and I somehow got confused enough to think he was an entirely different colour and breed and wearing a tagged collar as Hector did not at that stage. But then I see him come down from the verandah of my house.
When my dad got out of the car he had no comment to make about a strange dog we'd never seen before - and because our neighbour's houses are at least 200 metres apart this IS a big deal. Nor, of course, did either of our dogs on the verandah make any barking noise at the strange dog. When I checked the orchard minutes later, there was of course no sign that it had ever been there.
I don't really believe in ghosts. So the idea that, say, I saw a fleeting glimpse of the dog spirit that somehow became trapped inside the body of a cat on the way to whatever afterlife there is for good pets is ridiculous and I wouldn't say for a second that that's what happened. But at the same time, I have to believe the evidence of my eyes and ears.
It's a strange note to end on, I know, but I haven't had anything else close to a paranormal experience and this.. episode has weighed quite heavily on mind.
Anyway - to June. May it live up to it's reputation. If it has one.
EDIT - HA! To July, for Chrissake's... *sigh* Man I need to get to bed... Nighty-night!