(no subject)

Does anyone know anything about Peter Mulvey? See, I have three songs; On The Way Up, The Ocean and Out Here. And all of them are really, seriously grand, and I want to get hold of an album only there're quite a few of them. Where do I start?

Guidance would be appreciated.

I'll upload some music later today, most likely. :D



(I should use my iBop icon but I'm having another of those 'inappropriate crush on Novak' days. Shall have to go watch Critical Mass or something.)


ETA: ohgod I had forgotten that Critical Mass made me involuntarily slash Hermiod/Zelenka.

Sometimes I hate my brain.

XD

(no subject)

I just went to superdrug and bought nailvarnish and hair wax stuff. I now have black nails with sparkly pink tips because I have far too much time on my hands and it's raining. I also bought the Prestige because Blockbusters is an evil place and full of distractions.

One of the hair things I got - buy one get one free, oh how you confuse me - is one of those putty type 'just got out of bed' ones. Which is just... when I have just got out of bed, I tend to have hair that is unattractively flat on one side, sticking up on the other, and which has scored itself into lines on my cheek. This is an attractive look, now? What they mean to say but don't, of course, is that it is supposed to look like 'just got out of bed AFTER SHAGGING'. Which I haven't, of course, but it's nice to have a fantasy life.

More things should have 'AFTER SHAGGING' as an unspoken addendum, don't you think?

I think I need tea. I've only had two giant mug fulls today.

(no subject)

I'm writing this fic at the moment, and occasionally I read it through to get a feeling for the whole before I go on to write the next section. Or I do it to put off writing Elizabeth and Ronon, take your pick. ;) Either way, there's this section:

“…hunh. So you do exist.” Dammit.

“What?”

“You’re that Jack. James.” He snapped his fingers restlessly, trying to recall the name that was just on the tip of his mind. “The one who was on that ridiculous radio show the other week.”

“John Sheppard.”

“Right, John."

And seriously, every time I read that bit, I snap my fingers three or four times. I can't not do it. It's Pavlovian.



I am just an extraordinary dork.

(no subject)

Heeeee, I want to write a fic about the unconscious slipping of barriers when you're in any sort of environment with the same people for any length of time. It's like... it's like going to Reading music festival, when none of you have had showers for a couple of days and it's perfectly okay to wander around your campsite in a pair of muddy combat trousers rolled up to the knee and the T-shirt you wore to bed last night, DMs slipping off your feet with every step.

Just little things, y'know. Like Rodney working in the lab in pyjama pants and uniform jacket, and John wandering around the mess with his toothbrush in his mouth, that sort of thing. Maybe I'll find one of the many fics I have planned to slip it into, casually.

I'm failing enormously at writing today. Is clearly revenge for the unprecedentedly productive day yesterday. Must remember that inability to write today does not indicate that my brain and/or writing ability has atrophied and am now useless to the human race. Seriously, my brain has it in for me.

Apologies for the huge amounts of spam today; I'm lonely.

In more positive news, however, I'm going out on Tuesday with a mate I haven't seen for a good long while, and he's quite possibly the most attractive person I know. Personally I think he's lovelier than Model Dave. So as well as it being shiny to catch up with him, I also get eye candy for the evening. Win!