Kita tells me there is an LJ renaissance going on!??!!
IS THIS TRUE?
Lately, I have been tumbling fannishly. It's okay, but I like words. Here are some I posted over there recently:
FOR THE RECORD, OLIVIA DUNHAM HAS NEVER BETRAYED ME
I’ve been pondering lately why historically so much of my outward fannish energy has been dedicated to source texts I have loved, but not trusted.
The X-Files, SPN, now Arrow. God help me, Roswell back in the day. And my relationship with BtVS was far less traumatic, but not without strain.
I don’t talk (read/write fic) as much about my passionate, risk-free amours with Fringe or Elementary. Or Northern Exposure and Farscape, once upon a time. I mean, those shows were giving me canonical bodyswap, sex pollen, butch straight women, polymorphously perverse sentient plants, and recursive AUs on the regular. And now, JOAN WATSON.
But I also think maybe it’s because I need you, fandom, to help me survive Chris Carter’s virgin/whore complex & preference for cards as (plot)building material; SPN’s difficulty negotiating the Horror genre’s ickiest tropes re: race & gender; nonsensical alien reincarnation retcons; altogether too many questions of paternity; sketchy love triangles & romanticized romantic jealousy.
You give me Scully competence porn with extra helpings of porn porn. And Winsisters. You unkill the lesbians. You overrun the Arrow cave with feminine hygiene products, glitter & snark. You give everyone wings. Maybe one day soon you’ll introduce me to John Diggle’s mom.
(You also get up to a lot of wanky insanity & thoughtless shit-stirring, but I’ve learned to avoid all that, mostly.)
*
[Then I reblogged myself and said:]
I introduced myself to John Diggle’s mom.
I don’t know what my deal is about this! It’s just that we’ve met everyone else’s parents - why not Diggle’s? He’s quite probably a Starling City native since that’s where both he & his brother went back after they separated from the military. If the parental Diggles are still alive, shouldn’t John be angsting about whether/how to to tell them about Andy’s dead/not dead status like Laurel did about Sara?
Assuming he wasn’t hatched from an egg, JOHN DIGGLE WAS OF WOMAN BORN.
And he treats women like people! Someone taught him that, right? Doesn’t she want to meet me her grandbaby?
(Also, I would like some evidence that John Diggle knows other black people who aren’t related to him by blood or marriage. Only vaguely related: I also want to know about any & everybody’s non-vigilante friends.)
*
[And then I also said this:]
Okay, I’m a professional knitter* and so my work life requires a variety of categories/levels of media products depending on how much I need to be looking at the screen/paying attention in general, from total silence for important pattern math calculations to things I have internalized into my soul (like the X-Files) for all-purpose comforting background stimuli to unwatched quality new shows for long stretches of stockinette to crappy procedurals that break up some monotony but don’t impede me keeping track of those short rows or whatever.
This isn’t what I opened up this window to type about: see, I’ve been watching The Walking Dead since you all inundated me with Richonne gifs and found that it works on multiple levels: it’s new & interesting (and unlike those CSI prime reruns that crossed the line from mostly white noise to actively distracting by offending my politics every other ep) but if I have to look at my needles while they stab some zombies, well, I’ve seen them stab a lot of zombies at this point.
ANYWAY, the point is this: I knit 2 & half sweaters this week over the first two seasons and was thus exposed to a metric ton of blood & guts & gore. Ho hum, knit purl here we go.
But last week, I fainted on top of my cat & my WIP during Call the Midwife when that woman accidentally yanked out her daughter’s uterus on their kitchen floor. I feel like there’s something thinky to be thought here about media & violence, but I have some important knitting deadlines and I have yet to figure out how to type while knitting, so.
It’s just that between TWD & watching Fury Road w/ my sweetheart last night, I’ve seen not one but two impromptu amateur C-sections that killed the mother since then & remained conscious (and knitting) both times.
*
Hope everyone is well! Happy International Women's Day! I have to go afk now, so this probably wasn't the best moment to resurface, but oh well!
Lately, I have been tumbling fannishly. It's okay, but I like words. Here are some I posted over there recently:
FOR THE RECORD, OLIVIA DUNHAM HAS NEVER BETRAYED ME
I’ve been pondering lately why historically so much of my outward fannish energy has been dedicated to source texts I have loved, but not trusted.
The X-Files, SPN, now Arrow. God help me, Roswell back in the day. And my relationship with BtVS was far less traumatic, but not without strain.
I don’t talk (read/write fic) as much about my passionate, risk-free amours with Fringe or Elementary. Or Northern Exposure and Farscape, once upon a time. I mean, those shows were giving me canonical bodyswap, sex pollen, butch straight women, polymorphously perverse sentient plants, and recursive AUs on the regular. And now, JOAN WATSON.
But I also think maybe it’s because I need you, fandom, to help me survive Chris Carter’s virgin/whore complex & preference for cards as (plot)building material; SPN’s difficulty negotiating the Horror genre’s ickiest tropes re: race & gender; nonsensical alien reincarnation retcons; altogether too many questions of paternity; sketchy love triangles & romanticized romantic jealousy.
You give me Scully competence porn with extra helpings of porn porn. And Winsisters. You unkill the lesbians. You overrun the Arrow cave with feminine hygiene products, glitter & snark. You give everyone wings. Maybe one day soon you’ll introduce me to John Diggle’s mom.
(You also get up to a lot of wanky insanity & thoughtless shit-stirring, but I’ve learned to avoid all that, mostly.)
*
[Then I reblogged myself and said:]
I introduced myself to John Diggle’s mom.
I don’t know what my deal is about this! It’s just that we’ve met everyone else’s parents - why not Diggle’s? He’s quite probably a Starling City native since that’s where both he & his brother went back after they separated from the military. If the parental Diggles are still alive, shouldn’t John be angsting about whether/how to to tell them about Andy’s dead/not dead status like Laurel did about Sara?
Assuming he wasn’t hatched from an egg, JOHN DIGGLE WAS OF WOMAN BORN.
And he treats women like people! Someone taught him that, right? Doesn’t she want to meet me her grandbaby?
(Also, I would like some evidence that John Diggle knows other black people who aren’t related to him by blood or marriage. Only vaguely related: I also want to know about any & everybody’s non-vigilante friends.)
*
[And then I also said this:]
Okay, I’m a professional knitter* and so my work life requires a variety of categories/levels of media products depending on how much I need to be looking at the screen/paying attention in general, from total silence for important pattern math calculations to things I have internalized into my soul (like the X-Files) for all-purpose comforting background stimuli to unwatched quality new shows for long stretches of stockinette to crappy procedurals that break up some monotony but don’t impede me keeping track of those short rows or whatever.
This isn’t what I opened up this window to type about: see, I’ve been watching The Walking Dead since you all inundated me with Richonne gifs and found that it works on multiple levels: it’s new & interesting (and unlike those CSI prime reruns that crossed the line from mostly white noise to actively distracting by offending my politics every other ep) but if I have to look at my needles while they stab some zombies, well, I’ve seen them stab a lot of zombies at this point.
ANYWAY, the point is this: I knit 2 & half sweaters this week over the first two seasons and was thus exposed to a metric ton of blood & guts & gore. Ho hum, knit purl here we go.
But last week, I fainted on top of my cat & my WIP during Call the Midwife when that woman accidentally yanked out her daughter’s uterus on their kitchen floor. I feel like there’s something thinky to be thought here about media & violence, but I have some important knitting deadlines and I have yet to figure out how to type while knitting, so.
It’s just that between TWD & watching Fury Road w/ my sweetheart last night, I’ve seen not one but two impromptu amateur C-sections that killed the mother since then & remained conscious (and knitting) both times.
*
Hope everyone is well! Happy International Women's Day! I have to go afk now, so this probably wasn't the best moment to resurface, but oh well!