More randomness
Oct. 15th, 2003 03:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynI'm so bored I could lapse into a coma. There has been absolutely no work coming through here for weeks, because of the big end of financial quarter rush a few months ago, where the clients all try to get everything out to print in two weeks of crazed stupidity. Now I'll probably get laid off because there's nothing to do. Sigh.
1. Did anyone else catch Charisma Carpenter on Miss Match, Friday? I was surprised no one I saw mentioned it. She looked very nice, very fit and shiny happy. She had definite mom boobs spilling out of her extremely low-cut decolletage, but she was trim and shapely, and she had a nice haircut. I liked the character she played, an otherwise decent woman who was nasty and demanding to anyone in the service sector. I want to like Miss Match more than I do -- I've always had a soft spot for Alicia Silverstone because I liked Clueless so much, and there is some good stuff going on in the show, but I've never been that big on those guest-of-the-week type shows. I'd almost like CC to become a semi-regular, because she was just so funny and nasty, much like our original Cordy.
2. I wonder what it says about a movie, or about the viewer, when a viewer (okay, moi) who normally loves, adores, and thrills to depressing movies gets too damn depressed by a particular movie? Depressing is my reason for being. Depressing makes me happy. But I made the mistake of watching Solomon and Gaenor, a Welsh movie with darling Ioan Gryffud of Horatio Hornblower fame, and it was too damn depressing even for me. It reminded me of the only other movie that I simply couldn't bear, that made me want to put a .357 to my temple, the Christopher Eccleston movie Jude (interpreation of the Hardy novel). Jesus jumped up christ on a sidecar, these were depressing movies.
Funny thing is, the first thing I ever really went silly over Ioan, in a British film called Warriors that was set in Bosnia at the height of the war, made most people feel depressed, but I (and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
feochadn, who'd gone to great lengths to get it) loved it. The sadness in most things people think of as depressing, for some reason doesn't feel hopeless or claustrophobic to me, but Solomon and Gaenor just piled relentless blow upon blow, over and over, until you felt you were smothering in misery, and I'm like, yikes. I'm scared this, along with my tendency lately to write these treacly fanfic pieces, means I'm turning into a fluffy bunny. I can't think of anything more horrible. I better write some death stories soon, before I turn into someone who wears sweatshirts with big-eyed kittens on them.
3. Speaking of stories and death, I'm almost ready to send the next chapter of the WIP to beta. Don't all cheer too loud. ;-) This is rawish and needs polish, but if you're interested, here's a sample with Spike and Angel, because it gives me something to do. (Watch out ali, it's comin' your way.)
"I haven’t been listening.” He turned to look straight at Spike. “Are you afraid?”
Spike shook his head. “Worried. Not afraid. At this point, I’ve given up hope I’ll get back to... normal. Or normalish. But they’ve found something, they just don’t want to tell.”
“It worries Wes.”
“So he’s let on, though not in so many words. Bloke is not a good actor, by the way. Don’t send him undercover.”
“I try not to.” Angel stared at the wall. “We never could along much, could we? Even at the best of times, when we had a common purpose.”
“No. Didn’t stop us having good times, though.” Though the memory of those good times twisted Spike’s gut with shame. He stared off into space for a while. “Sorry about Cordelia.”
“Me too.”
“Since I’m here, why not let me use my contacts to see if I can dig anything up? No one really knows I’m out of the brotherhood. Might be able to get something you couldn’t, what with that pesky halo blinking over your head like a Vegas sign.”
“I’d like that.” Haltingly, uneasily, Angel added, “So far what you’ve done while you’ve been here has been helpful. With the cases. You might have a future in it, you know.”
“Doubt that.” He pointed to his temple. “Not that good with the old noggin.” They sat quietly for a while.
“I keep asking myself, why would you get a soul? You never had much use for that sort of thing. Even without one, you had... feelings. Almost human.”
Spike gave him a sideways glance. “That was always it, wasn’t it? What you hated most in me.”
“Among other things.”
But Angel wasn’t so sure he’d hated it. More that he had feared it. Even though he’d always been more powerful physically, stronger because of age and temperament, he’d always known Spike would be the survivor in any climactic battle. He’d proven it by killing slayers, by allying with Buffy against him and Dru, by surviving everything thrown at him, even humanity again. The monster inside Angel could never have survived that chip. If it had been Spike cursed with a soul, Spike chosen to be the world’s champion, he would know how to win the interior battle of soul and demon. He would never have let it ruin him or the world around him.
Spike understood emotion. How it helped, how it destroyed. And he was never afraid of it.
“So why did you?”
“Ah, that. Well.” Spike fidgeted, his shaking hands betraying the attempt at calm. “Probably kill me once I’ve told you, but if you could at least wait till I hear Wes and Fred’s answers, that’d be nice.”
“I won’t kill you,” Angel said harshly. “Wipe the floor with you, maybe, but not kill. Besides, I think I know what you’re going to tell me.” What else could drive him to such extremes but being broken by love? Immolated by the remaining trace of humanity searing inside his chest? Angel knew that story all too well; he’d memorized every line, and in between them, too.
“Tried to hurt Buffy. Not the vampire me. The man me. Tried to force myself on her, because I wanted her to love me back. I think she did already, just a bit, and I cocked it up.”
“She probably did. She loves more than she lets on.”
“But she’s hung up on the soul business. You made sure of that. She likes the monster, but she needs the man’s soul.” Spike took a leaf from the jasmine, began tearing at it.
“I can’t hate you for that. I hurt her, once. He did, I mean.”
Spike grimaced, glaring at Angel. Defiant. A well-remembered look, one he’d seen many times as he’d pushed Spike too far, took advantage of him, and yet Spike always withstood, always remained defiant. Defiled, beaten, savaged, humiliated... it didn’t matter. Always defiant, stupidly courageous. Spike was braver than Angel could ever hope to be.
“See, there is your problem, my lad.” His lilting voice meant the snark was back, at last. This was the Spike Angel knew best. “I’m not clever by half, and I’m certainly no psychologist, but you’re doing the same bloody thing, always have done, that Willow’s doing right now. You heard about her little end of the world soiree, I assume.”
“Yeah.”
“Spent time with her and Giles over in Bath. Thing about Will is that she doesn’t want to accept the dark inside her. That was the problem with Buffy, too, what drove her to me, and then away. Couldn’t believe they had the blackness inside ‘em, as well as the light. I told her that. Till she accepts that there’s evil inside as well as good, she’ll never get a handle on it. Might try it yourself. You keep fighting with the old bastard, and you’ll never get rid of him. Have yourself a big internal tussle, and he’ll win, if you don’t learn how to live with ‘em both. Accept it. Move on.”
Angel watched him as he spoke, the spark in his blue eyes, the way the light played on the sharp angles of his face. Suddenly it wasn’t hard for him to understand why Buffy would fall for Spike, even knowing she shouldn’t. Everything that she needed, everything that those around her weren’t, was there inside Spike, and he’d only been waiting to lavish those qualities on her if given half a chance. He was endless in his capacity for devotion; all his years with Dru had proven that. Fiercely loyal, intensely emotional, transparent... he would be the one person she could have access to. He would open his erstwhile heart to her, completely, nothing held back. He could draw love from someone like breath. No wonder Buffy been so terrified of him.
Angel understood it too well, that dread of letting go. The more frightened you are of love, the more power it has over you.
He got up and walked towards the door. Over his shoulder, he said to Spike, “You’re smarter than you look.”
Spike snorted. “Yeah, thanks, mate. World of good that does me.”
1. Did anyone else catch Charisma Carpenter on Miss Match, Friday? I was surprised no one I saw mentioned it. She looked very nice, very fit and shiny happy. She had definite mom boobs spilling out of her extremely low-cut decolletage, but she was trim and shapely, and she had a nice haircut. I liked the character she played, an otherwise decent woman who was nasty and demanding to anyone in the service sector. I want to like Miss Match more than I do -- I've always had a soft spot for Alicia Silverstone because I liked Clueless so much, and there is some good stuff going on in the show, but I've never been that big on those guest-of-the-week type shows. I'd almost like CC to become a semi-regular, because she was just so funny and nasty, much like our original Cordy.
2. I wonder what it says about a movie, or about the viewer, when a viewer (okay, moi) who normally loves, adores, and thrills to depressing movies gets too damn depressed by a particular movie? Depressing is my reason for being. Depressing makes me happy. But I made the mistake of watching Solomon and Gaenor, a Welsh movie with darling Ioan Gryffud of Horatio Hornblower fame, and it was too damn depressing even for me. It reminded me of the only other movie that I simply couldn't bear, that made me want to put a .357 to my temple, the Christopher Eccleston movie Jude (interpreation of the Hardy novel). Jesus jumped up christ on a sidecar, these were depressing movies.
Funny thing is, the first thing I ever really went silly over Ioan, in a British film called Warriors that was set in Bosnia at the height of the war, made most people feel depressed, but I (and
feochadn, who'd gone to great lengths to get it) loved it. The sadness in most things people think of as depressing, for some reason doesn't feel hopeless or claustrophobic to me, but Solomon and Gaenor just piled relentless blow upon blow, over and over, until you felt you were smothering in misery, and I'm like, yikes. I'm scared this, along with my tendency lately to write these treacly fanfic pieces, means I'm turning into a fluffy bunny. I can't think of anything more horrible. I better write some death stories soon, before I turn into someone who wears sweatshirts with big-eyed kittens on them.3. Speaking of stories and death, I'm almost ready to send the next chapter of the WIP to beta. Don't all cheer too loud. ;-) This is rawish and needs polish, but if you're interested, here's a sample with Spike and Angel, because it gives me something to do. (Watch out ali, it's comin' your way.)
"I haven’t been listening.” He turned to look straight at Spike. “Are you afraid?”
Spike shook his head. “Worried. Not afraid. At this point, I’ve given up hope I’ll get back to... normal. Or normalish. But they’ve found something, they just don’t want to tell.”
“It worries Wes.”
“So he’s let on, though not in so many words. Bloke is not a good actor, by the way. Don’t send him undercover.”
“I try not to.” Angel stared at the wall. “We never could along much, could we? Even at the best of times, when we had a common purpose.”
“No. Didn’t stop us having good times, though.” Though the memory of those good times twisted Spike’s gut with shame. He stared off into space for a while. “Sorry about Cordelia.”
“Me too.”
“Since I’m here, why not let me use my contacts to see if I can dig anything up? No one really knows I’m out of the brotherhood. Might be able to get something you couldn’t, what with that pesky halo blinking over your head like a Vegas sign.”
“I’d like that.” Haltingly, uneasily, Angel added, “So far what you’ve done while you’ve been here has been helpful. With the cases. You might have a future in it, you know.”
“Doubt that.” He pointed to his temple. “Not that good with the old noggin.” They sat quietly for a while.
“I keep asking myself, why would you get a soul? You never had much use for that sort of thing. Even without one, you had... feelings. Almost human.”
Spike gave him a sideways glance. “That was always it, wasn’t it? What you hated most in me.”
“Among other things.”
But Angel wasn’t so sure he’d hated it. More that he had feared it. Even though he’d always been more powerful physically, stronger because of age and temperament, he’d always known Spike would be the survivor in any climactic battle. He’d proven it by killing slayers, by allying with Buffy against him and Dru, by surviving everything thrown at him, even humanity again. The monster inside Angel could never have survived that chip. If it had been Spike cursed with a soul, Spike chosen to be the world’s champion, he would know how to win the interior battle of soul and demon. He would never have let it ruin him or the world around him.
Spike understood emotion. How it helped, how it destroyed. And he was never afraid of it.
“So why did you?”
“Ah, that. Well.” Spike fidgeted, his shaking hands betraying the attempt at calm. “Probably kill me once I’ve told you, but if you could at least wait till I hear Wes and Fred’s answers, that’d be nice.”
“I won’t kill you,” Angel said harshly. “Wipe the floor with you, maybe, but not kill. Besides, I think I know what you’re going to tell me.” What else could drive him to such extremes but being broken by love? Immolated by the remaining trace of humanity searing inside his chest? Angel knew that story all too well; he’d memorized every line, and in between them, too.
“Tried to hurt Buffy. Not the vampire me. The man me. Tried to force myself on her, because I wanted her to love me back. I think she did already, just a bit, and I cocked it up.”
“She probably did. She loves more than she lets on.”
“But she’s hung up on the soul business. You made sure of that. She likes the monster, but she needs the man’s soul.” Spike took a leaf from the jasmine, began tearing at it.
“I can’t hate you for that. I hurt her, once. He did, I mean.”
Spike grimaced, glaring at Angel. Defiant. A well-remembered look, one he’d seen many times as he’d pushed Spike too far, took advantage of him, and yet Spike always withstood, always remained defiant. Defiled, beaten, savaged, humiliated... it didn’t matter. Always defiant, stupidly courageous. Spike was braver than Angel could ever hope to be.
“See, there is your problem, my lad.” His lilting voice meant the snark was back, at last. This was the Spike Angel knew best. “I’m not clever by half, and I’m certainly no psychologist, but you’re doing the same bloody thing, always have done, that Willow’s doing right now. You heard about her little end of the world soiree, I assume.”
“Yeah.”
“Spent time with her and Giles over in Bath. Thing about Will is that she doesn’t want to accept the dark inside her. That was the problem with Buffy, too, what drove her to me, and then away. Couldn’t believe they had the blackness inside ‘em, as well as the light. I told her that. Till she accepts that there’s evil inside as well as good, she’ll never get a handle on it. Might try it yourself. You keep fighting with the old bastard, and you’ll never get rid of him. Have yourself a big internal tussle, and he’ll win, if you don’t learn how to live with ‘em both. Accept it. Move on.”
Angel watched him as he spoke, the spark in his blue eyes, the way the light played on the sharp angles of his face. Suddenly it wasn’t hard for him to understand why Buffy would fall for Spike, even knowing she shouldn’t. Everything that she needed, everything that those around her weren’t, was there inside Spike, and he’d only been waiting to lavish those qualities on her if given half a chance. He was endless in his capacity for devotion; all his years with Dru had proven that. Fiercely loyal, intensely emotional, transparent... he would be the one person she could have access to. He would open his erstwhile heart to her, completely, nothing held back. He could draw love from someone like breath. No wonder Buffy been so terrified of him.
Angel understood it too well, that dread of letting go. The more frightened you are of love, the more power it has over you.
He got up and walked towards the door. Over his shoulder, he said to Spike, “You’re smarter than you look.”
Spike snorted. “Yeah, thanks, mate. World of good that does me.”
