Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.


Strange thing that I am, I like having too much office work to do rather than too little, but I'm in that place now where I have so freaking much to do that I can't figure out what to do first. I'm sort of immobilized. Which means I should go to lunch.

And now I'm back. I move like a blur, don't I?

Only got around to writing this weekend late on Sunday, but got another scene done, so decided not to hang self.

On Saturday, sherrold came over and we watched the first 3 episodes of S3 QAF. Including the great Kinney knock-out. Whammo! I find myself wondering what people think about that--can imagine that some people might come down on Michael's side, other people on Brian's. (Though Michael himself comes around afterward and basically admits to being a pissant.) My bias is obvious. I think it's a thing of beauty, not because I dislike Michael or anything, but because it was such a fitting, romantic gesture. The Beast savagely defending Beauty and all that, even though Beauty left him for a violin-playing twink. Brian reminds me a lot of Spike there. You could make the argument that the set-up was forced--Michael can be a thoughtless little twat, but it's hard for me to believe that he'd say that. Hal Sparks played it well though.

Had a great time with Sandy; she was balm on my fannish soreness. Maybe I will even go to the next Seattle bash. Dare I? Dare I be a peach-eater? Hmm.

I have been playing out a story in my head with Whore!Spike, where Angel kicks him out of the agency with no possessions and tells him he's unwelcome and that he'd better not bother any of the others, et cetera, and everyone is forced to go along with Angel because he's in full fury mode, as he was after the whole Wes-Connor thing, except in this AU that never happened, so Wes is one of the people who keeps silent and lets Angel kick Spike out, but months later he's bitter about it. "You're angry," Angel says when the subject comes up, after he's finally come around a bit. Wes: "Yes, I'm angry, Angel. At you, myself--you made a decision for all of us, without consulting us, and I should have called you on that. That's my job, but instead of doing it I tip-toed around you for months, fearing your temper, your disapproval. I'm not my own man. I'm your minion."

Well, that's going nowhere. I'll file it in my head under "R" for "Reams of dialogue that might have turned into cool stories that are instead lost to posterity because my head doesn't have a built-in tape recorder."

Back to work!

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