(no subject)
Merry thing, I am still annoyed that KKBB didn't get the fandom it deserves but it's still a very watchable film, Lindsay and I jointly won Cards Against Humanity against Jess and the stuffed pig (who won last year and should not be discounted as a viable opponent). Breakfast was muffins and salmon, cream cheese, scrambled eggs, and champagne; despite my repeated entreaties for NO MORE BOOKS and NO CHOCOLATE that is what made up the majority of my presents HOWEVER I AM VERY GRATEFUL as the books I got were all ones I'd considered not viable to buy myself (Voynich MS! Gay Detective Trope Book! SEX LIFE OF HENRY SCOTT TUKE [or as much as can be ferretted out after his ruddy sister burnt his diaries; however that man's near monofocus was "slim naked youths" and his sister having to burn his diaries at all Rather Suggests Something], Jean Genet poetry! Etc!), so THANK ONE AND ALL.
My current reading material (after an ill-advised foray into Catherine Arnold's first book, Necropolis: London and Its Dead, and the usual cooling effects of both news and Any Mention Of WW1, combined to give me "black tar crippling your actual brain" levels of death-obsessed depression) is "He Kills Coppers", a kind-of sequel to "The Long Firm" by Jake Arnott. Unpleasant and gritty twentieth-century crime history fiction with awful gay characters. And by "awful" I mean, exactly the same levels of awful as everyone else, which is what I usually approve of.
I listened to this (Youtube link, autoplay) about four times on my phone last night in an attempt to stay asleep after going to bed at 9pm, which wasn't entirely successful but did a good job of killing my brain squirrels or at least sedating them into background noise while I cheerfully reviewed my internal porn banks, carefully stocked just before with Lots Of Terrible Gay Filth.
Stuart Semple has stepped up his inventive petty vendetta with Anish Kapoor and has created the world's Glitteriest Glitter. You can buy it here. I want it.
Sitting around singing "dead horse" to the tune of various Christmas carols because of Reasons ™, have not yet edited my MS today but have vague plans to vomit up about 500 words on this stupid short story. Life doesn't stop just because the shops are (mostly) shut.
Also, a man got arrested outside our window while we were making Christmas (curry!) dinner. HARINGEY! SO FESTIVE.
My current reading material (after an ill-advised foray into Catherine Arnold's first book, Necropolis: London and Its Dead, and the usual cooling effects of both news and Any Mention Of WW1, combined to give me "black tar crippling your actual brain" levels of death-obsessed depression) is "He Kills Coppers", a kind-of sequel to "The Long Firm" by Jake Arnott. Unpleasant and gritty twentieth-century crime history fiction with awful gay characters. And by "awful" I mean, exactly the same levels of awful as everyone else, which is what I usually approve of.
I listened to this (Youtube link, autoplay) about four times on my phone last night in an attempt to stay asleep after going to bed at 9pm, which wasn't entirely successful but did a good job of killing my brain squirrels or at least sedating them into background noise while I cheerfully reviewed my internal porn banks, carefully stocked just before with Lots Of Terrible Gay Filth.
Stuart Semple has stepped up his inventive petty vendetta with Anish Kapoor and has created the world's Glitteriest Glitter. You can buy it here. I want it.
Sitting around singing "dead horse" to the tune of various Christmas carols because of Reasons ™, have not yet edited my MS today but have vague plans to vomit up about 500 words on this stupid short story. Life doesn't stop just because the shops are (mostly) shut.
Also, a man got arrested outside our window while we were making Christmas (curry!) dinner. HARINGEY! SO FESTIVE.