Connies and tiredness
-Just had to resize 257 Jaffar screencaps by hand because a Photoshop script refused to do it for me. Ow. Now that's what I call a spiritual exercise. Chop wood and carry water, eh?
-Speaking of Connie, nuraicha and I were just yelling about him again and how he is so ridiculously hypersexual in his talkie performances. That's part of why he is so disconcerting--I mean, other people can be sexy as hell and do things in a flirty way, but he actually goes past the whole flirting and negotiating part and he's basically fucking the screen and the co-stars and the dogs and the bouquets and what have you, just with his clothes on. It's in the way he moves and speaks; I am really not exaggerating when I say that he does it the way people do things when they're naked and horizontal. Like, at times he delivers his lines like he's looking up from between your legs between licks--it's very much a dirty talking voice, and then he rocks his hips like he's inside you and what the fuck?!? And yet he does the entire thing in such a charming way that he's irresistible, and I still haven't figured out how in the fuck he does that. I mean, some of that shit is just slappable and I don't even know how directors let him get away with it. And then I was sighing over Torsten's piano loungeage again and I am STILL trying to crack the mystery that is Die Veidt. I was just thinking how gorgeously androgynous that stuff is, but in this way you don't usually associate with androgyny: he does an essentially feminine type of movement there, but he does it with a man's musculature and with a masculine power, yet he doesn't do it the way even the most graceful guys would do it. Because when it's something like that, you either get something camp where it slips into caricature and exaggeration, a burlesque imitation of the female that's just a tiny bit over the top, or then if it's that rare incidence of masculine grace (instead of the stiffness and hulking, brute force modern men are limited to these days), it would be performed in a more athletic sort of way, with more tension and dynamism (think Hiddles!Loki or something). But when it's Connie, he does something in an absolutely, perfectly androgynous way that does not slip into either extreme--neither stiffness or caricature. It really is like watching a woman in a man's body, a vamp who knows how to use that body and who is in no way limited by that body or gender roles. It's absolutely gorgeous and liberating to even *watch* that, because there is that fluidity going on--human physical expression at its finest. It's somehow more fully *human* than anything else. AND I STILL HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA HOW HE HAD THAT LEVEL OF MOTOR CONTROL BECAUSE THAT FLUIDITY IS FUCKING UNCANNY. Motherfucker swirled around like oil or smoke and even my cat can't move that gracefully.
-Have to go in for that stupid fucking sleep study in Tampere on Wednesday evening and I'm very much DNW. They aren't going to get any useful data out of me, and I'm already tired as hell and know I won't sleep properly if I'm forced to lie down on my back on a hard, narrow bed with electrodes all over my chest. I sleep in a wide double bed, on my stomach, and can't sleep on my back at all. So they'll just get incredibly patchy, crappy sleep and a tortured, cranky me and will diagnose me with sleep apnea or something (which I normally don't suffer from when sleeping on my stomach). Well, yes, it's not my fucking fault our equivalent of the NHS doesn't give you a tummy tuck after major weight loss and that loose skin on my stomach is still pressing on my lungs, and oh--I bet they'll start being condescending about sleep hygiene again (hey, yeah! You can fix inborn, neurophysiological circadian rhythm disorders by just going to bed early enough!) and can you tell how much I'm looking forward to this? *sigh* Bllrlrrlzzlfjgjfrkllrrrgh.
-Really should be poking fic, but I'm too tired to focus and I hate that. And I'm still upset over not having a fangirl beta for this thing; the sort of person who would have experience of reading and discussing fanfic and who would be able to spot the usual mistakes. I really miss those kinds of people and it was great to see them at Redemption again, but I really hate not having a friend of that sort who'd also be into the Connie fandoms and/or who would have the time to help me with these humongous fics. I do feel guilty for posting things without such betas and do feel like I am not producing my best work if I haven't had someone with that experience combing the stuff over:( I did get a typo-check from Big Dave, but to be honest, he is not a fangirl and as much as I love him, his standards of what's passable writing are nowhere near as strict as mine, and he is totally unaware of the implications of so many things that he ends up upsetting me over some sort of Oblivious Bloke Stuff on a weekly basis. And yes, he'd allow me to say that. I just have high-as-fuck, exacting standards and I'm an incredible snob about writing and I really want to at least try and live up to those standards. I'm not happy with myself when I don't feel like I am doing my best, and not having another well-versed fangirl to read this shit and to point out where I haven't used enough lube does, frankly, make me feel like shit. It's great to not have the problems of a huge fandom when it comes to Connie, but I fucking hate this fangirling in a near-vacuum thing at times, I really do. Other fandoms are like these five-star hotels with all the amenities (betas, discussion, fanart, ficathons, prompts, art/fic commissions) and this is a cockroach-infested moldy self-catering piece of crap where the views are awesome but that's about it.
-Sorry to sound so cranky and bitter, but that's what happens with this permanent lack of sleep. I really would like to be more productive, so I hate it when health problems get in the way of that. I really can't focus for shit on poking actual fiction and the fatigue has crumbled my brain into such mush I've had my PTSD triggered once today already, so you just get rambly, grumpy blogging because I have to keep busy *somehow*.
IDK, fuckit. Send Jaffars. Or talk to me about Connie to distract me. Please.
ETA: I mean it. Look at this fucking idiot's happy fucking panther face.
LOOK AT IT.
-Speaking of Connie, nuraicha and I were just yelling about him again and how he is so ridiculously hypersexual in his talkie performances. That's part of why he is so disconcerting--I mean, other people can be sexy as hell and do things in a flirty way, but he actually goes past the whole flirting and negotiating part and he's basically fucking the screen and the co-stars and the dogs and the bouquets and what have you, just with his clothes on. It's in the way he moves and speaks; I am really not exaggerating when I say that he does it the way people do things when they're naked and horizontal. Like, at times he delivers his lines like he's looking up from between your legs between licks--it's very much a dirty talking voice, and then he rocks his hips like he's inside you and what the fuck?!? And yet he does the entire thing in such a charming way that he's irresistible, and I still haven't figured out how in the fuck he does that. I mean, some of that shit is just slappable and I don't even know how directors let him get away with it. And then I was sighing over Torsten's piano loungeage again and I am STILL trying to crack the mystery that is Die Veidt. I was just thinking how gorgeously androgynous that stuff is, but in this way you don't usually associate with androgyny: he does an essentially feminine type of movement there, but he does it with a man's musculature and with a masculine power, yet he doesn't do it the way even the most graceful guys would do it. Because when it's something like that, you either get something camp where it slips into caricature and exaggeration, a burlesque imitation of the female that's just a tiny bit over the top, or then if it's that rare incidence of masculine grace (instead of the stiffness and hulking, brute force modern men are limited to these days), it would be performed in a more athletic sort of way, with more tension and dynamism (think Hiddles!Loki or something). But when it's Connie, he does something in an absolutely, perfectly androgynous way that does not slip into either extreme--neither stiffness or caricature. It really is like watching a woman in a man's body, a vamp who knows how to use that body and who is in no way limited by that body or gender roles. It's absolutely gorgeous and liberating to even *watch* that, because there is that fluidity going on--human physical expression at its finest. It's somehow more fully *human* than anything else. AND I STILL HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA HOW HE HAD THAT LEVEL OF MOTOR CONTROL BECAUSE THAT FLUIDITY IS FUCKING UNCANNY. Motherfucker swirled around like oil or smoke and even my cat can't move that gracefully.
-Have to go in for that stupid fucking sleep study in Tampere on Wednesday evening and I'm very much DNW. They aren't going to get any useful data out of me, and I'm already tired as hell and know I won't sleep properly if I'm forced to lie down on my back on a hard, narrow bed with electrodes all over my chest. I sleep in a wide double bed, on my stomach, and can't sleep on my back at all. So they'll just get incredibly patchy, crappy sleep and a tortured, cranky me and will diagnose me with sleep apnea or something (which I normally don't suffer from when sleeping on my stomach). Well, yes, it's not my fucking fault our equivalent of the NHS doesn't give you a tummy tuck after major weight loss and that loose skin on my stomach is still pressing on my lungs, and oh--I bet they'll start being condescending about sleep hygiene again (hey, yeah! You can fix inborn, neurophysiological circadian rhythm disorders by just going to bed early enough!) and can you tell how much I'm looking forward to this? *sigh* Bllrlrrlzzlfjgjfrkllrrrgh.
-Really should be poking fic, but I'm too tired to focus and I hate that. And I'm still upset over not having a fangirl beta for this thing; the sort of person who would have experience of reading and discussing fanfic and who would be able to spot the usual mistakes. I really miss those kinds of people and it was great to see them at Redemption again, but I really hate not having a friend of that sort who'd also be into the Connie fandoms and/or who would have the time to help me with these humongous fics. I do feel guilty for posting things without such betas and do feel like I am not producing my best work if I haven't had someone with that experience combing the stuff over:( I did get a typo-check from Big Dave, but to be honest, he is not a fangirl and as much as I love him, his standards of what's passable writing are nowhere near as strict as mine, and he is totally unaware of the implications of so many things that he ends up upsetting me over some sort of Oblivious Bloke Stuff on a weekly basis. And yes, he'd allow me to say that. I just have high-as-fuck, exacting standards and I'm an incredible snob about writing and I really want to at least try and live up to those standards. I'm not happy with myself when I don't feel like I am doing my best, and not having another well-versed fangirl to read this shit and to point out where I haven't used enough lube does, frankly, make me feel like shit. It's great to not have the problems of a huge fandom when it comes to Connie, but I fucking hate this fangirling in a near-vacuum thing at times, I really do. Other fandoms are like these five-star hotels with all the amenities (betas, discussion, fanart, ficathons, prompts, art/fic commissions) and this is a cockroach-infested moldy self-catering piece of crap where the views are awesome but that's about it.
-Sorry to sound so cranky and bitter, but that's what happens with this permanent lack of sleep. I really would like to be more productive, so I hate it when health problems get in the way of that. I really can't focus for shit on poking actual fiction and the fatigue has crumbled my brain into such mush I've had my PTSD triggered once today already, so you just get rambly, grumpy blogging because I have to keep busy *somehow*.
IDK, fuckit. Send Jaffars. Or talk to me about Connie to distract me. Please.
ETA: I mean it. Look at this fucking idiot's happy fucking panther face.
LOOK AT IT.