August 16th, 2003


a catlike yawn

sparkledark has posted a teaser of her upcoming QAF story. I swear, if this thing had a definite release date, like a book, I'd be marking the days off on my calendar.

kjv31 makes me nostalgic for James Bond flicks. I used to watch them when I was little--they used to play as the Sunday night "movie of the week," a new one every week it seemed like, but memory must be coloring outside the lines. I was into the cheesy Roger Moore ones, because I had been too young to see the Connery ones, so Moore was all I ever knew, for years, until Dalton came along. The Geek Trio's arguments over the best Bond cracked me up. I'm with Andrew: "Timothy Dalton should get an Oscar and beat Sean Connery over the head with it!" So very gay. But come on, Dalton was great. And the second movie of his was all butch and slashy and bloody. I was pleased when Pierce Brosnan finally got his chance, though, because I remember how bad I felt when he couldn't get out of his Remington Steele contract and missed his first shot. (If you were a fangirl then, you know you were all like, "Oh, poooor Pierce!") Plus, his wife died, so he gets a pity vote. He's like one of those polite but steely-jawed vicars with a tragic past, whom you can't help but fawn and fan yourself over. He's dashing, what?

But of course James Bond should really be played by Rupert Everett. Just think how cool that'd be. He'd be so superbly gay and snide and dissolute, passing himself off as a drunken fop, and then sliding out the party, shoulders straightening, stride quickening, gaze darting around to see if anyone has noticed that he's heading off to break into the ambassador's study and crack the safe, and if he got caught, his charming smile--which so devastates the ladies--would uplift suddenly, like a beam of sunlight, reaching his eyes, and he'd take some bumbling baroness's face between his hands, gently, lean in to kiss her--and then twist her neck, *snap*, clean around. And let her drop with a thud to the parquet floor. Then he'd adjust his cuffs, step over her, and make his exit with impeccable savoir faire.

Poem of the day: Meditation at Lagunitas

And because I am so fucked that I will do anything except write, goddamn it, write, I'm going to post an example of something I was talking about the other day, which is first lines of poems. Basically, like the first line of a story, the first line of a poem should grab you and hook you, sink its teeth deep, capture something. It's not true for every poem; at least one great poem begins simply with "I." But it's a good rule of thumb.

None of these are made up by me (the ones I didn't personally write, I mean). Read the lists first without knowing anything about where they came from.

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So I have an LJ question. I was talking to anaxila the other day about LJ interests; like, what's the point of them, I asked. Is it primarily a way of identifying yourself to others or of increasing your reading list, or what? Like, at this point, is there any point in me listing interests such as MST3K and poetry and Rothko and dictionaries and black-and-white photography and so on? If I list all these interests, but hardly ever post about them (most of them), won't that be like a gyp to people? I'm brooding dubiously.