somewhere between making love
Today was pretty much charmed, I think.
Every time it looked like it was going to get horrific, something saved me. Got to work nicely on time so that meant I wouldn't have to stay back late. Then the horrible tape I discovered no one had finished off ended much sooner than I'd expected ... like literally I only had to type one more page. And then just as I was getting bored with the whole work thing and longing to be left to my own devices, the girl supervisor came up and said "dri, can you go to court?" And as it happened, I was pretty much already dressed for court and just had to change out of my jeans and into the court trousers.
I was very cleavagey today. There's this blue top I have with a deep sweetheart neckline and a bow placed just so. I've worn it exactly once before and spent the whole day sort of hunching over and tugging the neckline nervously up. Today I was like "You know what? I think I will flaunt it today." Not exactly sure why, possibly just boredom with the band tee and jeans routine.
Ha, I know why. See, the Aunt brought me back this red top from Paris. A nice bright red with inside plackets of navy blue so yeah, totally my combination of colours. I wasn't sure, though. And yeah, put it on yesterday and hell, no. It's one of those long tunic things with a low slung belt of the same fabric. You know, the kind of top that is made for long thin girls or at least girls with hips. And I am none of those things. Not long, not thin and yep, no hips at all. I put it on, undid a few of the top buttons, looked at my reflection and went, "Seriously! This top does nothing for me!" Only emphasised the fact that I have no hips! Argh, I don't need that, all right? I have jeans for that.
Which is prolly why today I decided to flaunt what I do have. *cough*
And then I slightly scandalised myself by adding the Kaboodle Designs necklace. Cos, yeah, I always say I don't wear necklaces cos I don't need any more attention drawn to my chest, thanks very much. But you know how with a sweetheart neckline there's all that bare flesh and it's like it needs something to sort of bisect it? And if you don't have anything, it just looks unnervingly bare. So I slipped it on and turns out the blue looks too green against the blue of my top so I tucked the pendant inside and holy fuck, the effect was so provocative I shocked myself. Two silver strands that disappear into the cleavage and the floppy blue bow, you see? Never mind that I could feel the pendant. Heh.
No, I tell a total lie. I just remembered the whole reason for the outfit was so I could wear the floppy blue crocheted beret, also from Paris. *nods* I looked kinda fabulous, yeah. Was going to take a pic and post it specially on Michael's Bookface to remind him of what he's missing, mwahahahaha, but by the time I came home, the light had gone enough that I knew I wouldn't like any of the pix.
As it was, all day I kept catching guys quickly looking away from me. One stared openly and fairly appreciatively but he got the automatic icy basilisk stare. Force of habit. *lol* Not that I'm even shopping, this celibate state quite secured and comfortable.
So yeah, went to court with all my cleavage even though I did have a Bonds tee in my desk drawer I could have changed into. Nah, fuckit, I thought with some mischief.
What sucked though was my lunch hour. *sigh* I was looking forward to it ever since I left home, pretty much counting down the half hours til I could go lie in Hyde Park that's wakening to summer amid all the green and walk among the shady blue trees and have nothing but Patrick in my head. I was going to lay my Victorian coat down and plop my beret over my face and just soak up the sun. Left Villette behind, left all manner of books at home and just took my journal and pen in case I wanted to diarise.
*sigh* They wanted me at court after the luncheon adjournment. So I thought happily I'd take my lunch hour and then go to court. Except I forgot that they like me to be there half an hour earlier. So no park for me. I was tempted for a moment, thought "I could just go for fifteen minutes" but some little other voice said "Nooooo, just go and eat your lunch outside the court room, you never know."
Turns out it was a good thing I did turn up early cos the technology totally fucked up and some anxious calls were made and I didn't even get to eat my Snickers so I had to spend two and a half hours staring at it just sitting there on my desk, unopened and untouched and un-in-my-mouth! *asplodes* In the end, I had to put it away in my bag, out of sight and out of mind. Seriously.
Mind you, made for some hilarity on Twitter. *lol* People are awesome, especially fellow Snickers lovers. I seem to have discovered this new laugh I'm capable of, explosive and loud and utterly heartfelt and wicked and delighted, very nearly raucous, that only springs out as a result of some comment by a fellow #Spiritualist either here or on Twitter. And it'll happen anywhere! On the bus, in the office, at my desk, here in bed, as I'm walking down my street. So far I've been able to control it in court but I'm sure I was beaming ear to ear when the Chinese delegation of Supreme Court judges came in and sat in the back of the court.
I did forget to take in Spirited for the Ops Guy but then it turned out he didn't come in today so I'll remember tomorrow. And I just watched the season finale and oh man, it was marvellous. So very very fucking good and totally fulfilled my every hope. Okay, not every hope, we could have had about a minute more in the laundry room. *twitches nose*
It's funny how I seem to be easing off on everything. The Facebook games have dwindled to the barest minimum. The reading urge seems to have waned but you could possibly blame Lucy Snowe for that. I'm just drifting further ...
I wish I could live in that world. Not Patrick's world of touring and music industry politics but the world of his music. It's this slightly cold silvery grey place washed with wafts of pale gold, where every emotion is clear and fleeting but true. *sighs*
Pity it couldn't sustain a whole novel. Unless you're William Fucking Neurotic Gibson, I suppose. Huh. I always seem to need colour in my novels, even if I start off wanting something else. Even this novel was supposed to be all shadowy and colours of darker grey. But the bright vivid colours came into it, scratched up and grungy as they are, and well, I guess I just naturally go that way. Romanticism and the glories of the natural world, etc. *nods*
Faddofils, wot?
I just watched A Place In The Sun for only the second time ever. My god, he's so good. Montgomery. *clings and worships and cuddles and adores* And christ, him and Elizabeth steam up the screen. I could actually feel my face go hot, watching them. The desperation of them is such a potent thing. It's such a desperate film, really, all of it. And yet somehow it doesn't feel like melodrama to me, never seems overwrought. Is that because I've only seen it twice? Nooo, Heaven Knows, Mr Allison seemed pretty damned ludicrous to me on the second viewing. But this, god the reality, the ugly messy yearning reality of it is entirely because of Montgomery.
The Languid Libran guy I used to work with, who's now living the crazy film life in LA no doubt, said on my Bookface a while ago: "Monty = truth."
I promptly proposed to him. Age difference be damned. *lol*
And god, he was so right. There's an inescapable truth to Montgomery's performances, a dark integrity that goes so much further than his unearthly beautiful face and those startlingly bright eyes so full of pain and yearning. And this time I was quite quite struck by how much Jimmy Dean had learnt from him, the hunched in stance, the mumbling, the artless vulnerability that just wrenches at your heartstrings. Yeah, I've watched East Of Eden enough times to recognise those little trademarks.
Mind you, I did burst out at one point with "Seriously, Shelley, how can you stand so far away from him? How could you possibly bear it?!" I don't know, man, I couldn't. He's so ... touchable. Especially when he's practically vibrating with need, totally willing you to let him in because he needs to be touched, to feel that human connection, because he's so terribly lonely and hasn't been laid in like forever and you're right there and he wants you. *faints dead away*
Gay? Who, Montgomery Clift? Where on earth did you hear that?
*wanders off, chortling to self*
Every time it looked like it was going to get horrific, something saved me. Got to work nicely on time so that meant I wouldn't have to stay back late. Then the horrible tape I discovered no one had finished off ended much sooner than I'd expected ... like literally I only had to type one more page. And then just as I was getting bored with the whole work thing and longing to be left to my own devices, the girl supervisor came up and said "dri, can you go to court?" And as it happened, I was pretty much already dressed for court and just had to change out of my jeans and into the court trousers.
I was very cleavagey today. There's this blue top I have with a deep sweetheart neckline and a bow placed just so. I've worn it exactly once before and spent the whole day sort of hunching over and tugging the neckline nervously up. Today I was like "You know what? I think I will flaunt it today." Not exactly sure why, possibly just boredom with the band tee and jeans routine.
Ha, I know why. See, the Aunt brought me back this red top from Paris. A nice bright red with inside plackets of navy blue so yeah, totally my combination of colours. I wasn't sure, though. And yeah, put it on yesterday and hell, no. It's one of those long tunic things with a low slung belt of the same fabric. You know, the kind of top that is made for long thin girls or at least girls with hips. And I am none of those things. Not long, not thin and yep, no hips at all. I put it on, undid a few of the top buttons, looked at my reflection and went, "Seriously! This top does nothing for me!" Only emphasised the fact that I have no hips! Argh, I don't need that, all right? I have jeans for that.
Which is prolly why today I decided to flaunt what I do have. *cough*
And then I slightly scandalised myself by adding the Kaboodle Designs necklace. Cos, yeah, I always say I don't wear necklaces cos I don't need any more attention drawn to my chest, thanks very much. But you know how with a sweetheart neckline there's all that bare flesh and it's like it needs something to sort of bisect it? And if you don't have anything, it just looks unnervingly bare. So I slipped it on and turns out the blue looks too green against the blue of my top so I tucked the pendant inside and holy fuck, the effect was so provocative I shocked myself. Two silver strands that disappear into the cleavage and the floppy blue bow, you see? Never mind that I could feel the pendant. Heh.
No, I tell a total lie. I just remembered the whole reason for the outfit was so I could wear the floppy blue crocheted beret, also from Paris. *nods* I looked kinda fabulous, yeah. Was going to take a pic and post it specially on Michael's Bookface to remind him of what he's missing, mwahahahaha, but by the time I came home, the light had gone enough that I knew I wouldn't like any of the pix.
As it was, all day I kept catching guys quickly looking away from me. One stared openly and fairly appreciatively but he got the automatic icy basilisk stare. Force of habit. *lol* Not that I'm even shopping, this celibate state quite secured and comfortable.
So yeah, went to court with all my cleavage even though I did have a Bonds tee in my desk drawer I could have changed into. Nah, fuckit, I thought with some mischief.
What sucked though was my lunch hour. *sigh* I was looking forward to it ever since I left home, pretty much counting down the half hours til I could go lie in Hyde Park that's wakening to summer amid all the green and walk among the shady blue trees and have nothing but Patrick in my head. I was going to lay my Victorian coat down and plop my beret over my face and just soak up the sun. Left Villette behind, left all manner of books at home and just took my journal and pen in case I wanted to diarise.
*sigh* They wanted me at court after the luncheon adjournment. So I thought happily I'd take my lunch hour and then go to court. Except I forgot that they like me to be there half an hour earlier. So no park for me. I was tempted for a moment, thought "I could just go for fifteen minutes" but some little other voice said "Nooooo, just go and eat your lunch outside the court room, you never know."
Turns out it was a good thing I did turn up early cos the technology totally fucked up and some anxious calls were made and I didn't even get to eat my Snickers so I had to spend two and a half hours staring at it just sitting there on my desk, unopened and untouched and un-in-my-mouth! *asplodes* In the end, I had to put it away in my bag, out of sight and out of mind. Seriously.
Mind you, made for some hilarity on Twitter. *lol* People are awesome, especially fellow Snickers lovers. I seem to have discovered this new laugh I'm capable of, explosive and loud and utterly heartfelt and wicked and delighted, very nearly raucous, that only springs out as a result of some comment by a fellow #Spiritualist either here or on Twitter. And it'll happen anywhere! On the bus, in the office, at my desk, here in bed, as I'm walking down my street. So far I've been able to control it in court but I'm sure I was beaming ear to ear when the Chinese delegation of Supreme Court judges came in and sat in the back of the court.
I did forget to take in Spirited for the Ops Guy but then it turned out he didn't come in today so I'll remember tomorrow. And I just watched the season finale and oh man, it was marvellous. So very very fucking good and totally fulfilled my every hope. Okay, not every hope, we could have had about a minute more in the laundry room. *twitches nose*
It's funny how I seem to be easing off on everything. The Facebook games have dwindled to the barest minimum. The reading urge seems to have waned but you could possibly blame Lucy Snowe for that. I'm just drifting further ...
I wish I could live in that world. Not Patrick's world of touring and music industry politics but the world of his music. It's this slightly cold silvery grey place washed with wafts of pale gold, where every emotion is clear and fleeting but true. *sighs*
Pity it couldn't sustain a whole novel. Unless you're William Fucking Neurotic Gibson, I suppose. Huh. I always seem to need colour in my novels, even if I start off wanting something else. Even this novel was supposed to be all shadowy and colours of darker grey. But the bright vivid colours came into it, scratched up and grungy as they are, and well, I guess I just naturally go that way. Romanticism and the glories of the natural world, etc. *nods*
Faddofils, wot?
I just watched A Place In The Sun for only the second time ever. My god, he's so good. Montgomery. *clings and worships and cuddles and adores* And christ, him and Elizabeth steam up the screen. I could actually feel my face go hot, watching them. The desperation of them is such a potent thing. It's such a desperate film, really, all of it. And yet somehow it doesn't feel like melodrama to me, never seems overwrought. Is that because I've only seen it twice? Nooo, Heaven Knows, Mr Allison seemed pretty damned ludicrous to me on the second viewing. But this, god the reality, the ugly messy yearning reality of it is entirely because of Montgomery.
The Languid Libran guy I used to work with, who's now living the crazy film life in LA no doubt, said on my Bookface a while ago: "Monty = truth."
I promptly proposed to him. Age difference be damned. *lol*
And god, he was so right. There's an inescapable truth to Montgomery's performances, a dark integrity that goes so much further than his unearthly beautiful face and those startlingly bright eyes so full of pain and yearning. And this time I was quite quite struck by how much Jimmy Dean had learnt from him, the hunched in stance, the mumbling, the artless vulnerability that just wrenches at your heartstrings. Yeah, I've watched East Of Eden enough times to recognise those little trademarks.
Mind you, I did burst out at one point with "Seriously, Shelley, how can you stand so far away from him? How could you possibly bear it?!" I don't know, man, I couldn't. He's so ... touchable. Especially when he's practically vibrating with need, totally willing you to let him in because he needs to be touched, to feel that human connection, because he's so terribly lonely and hasn't been laid in like forever and you're right there and he wants you. *faints dead away*
Gay? Who, Montgomery Clift? Where on earth did you hear that?
*wanders off, chortling to self*