Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

a little night reading

Somehow, like dice that keep coming up double sixes, everything I've read today has been Smallville. Which is weird. I'm not watching it this season so far, and in general I haven't been reading much of anything.

Le Dormeur du Val by pun. C/L, NC-17. I'm not the best Superman reader because I'm not up on the variations of canon out there, but I love stories like this because they feel rich and mythic and familiar even to someone like me (on the fannish fringes). And I'm a happy-ending sucker--I don't know why that suddenly sounds dirty, but never mind--so I love when the universe is torn apart and restitched to my liking. Great writing here, even in apparently offhand lines, like, "Lex did his best to think like a methodical German woman and succeeded in locating the extra kitchen chair." (My favorite.)

oh, what a world! by wearemany. C/L, NC-17. Rec snagged from runpunkrun. Porn! Porn. Porrrrrrn. *porn* Okay, it has a semblance of plot, like in how Clark knocks over the clock, and the clock breaks, and then...yeah. Good stuff. *g*

The Stuff of Legend by privatetentacle (which may be the best user name ever). Rec steathily lifted from seperis. C/L, PG-13ish. Mocking Tom Cruise is never not fun.

I need to read some more SV. I'm sure I'm very behind on the good stuff.

Meanwhile, Muriel's Wedding is playing on cable again. ... You know, there are the perversely uplifting parts of this movie, and then there are the miserably unjust parts that make me just want to bitch-slap so many of the people in it.

Tombstone was playing earlier. I was surfing and I paused and heard a lewd and lazy voice drawl, "Why Johnny Tyler, you madcap, where are you going with that shotgun?" And then one of the most gorgeous faces of all time came on screen, Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday. Val as Val got a bit puffy as time went on, became a little too much of himself, but Val as Doc is a work of art and will stay that way forever. He's so stunningly pale and consumptive, fucked up and sly, dangerous and doomed. It's weird, too. Compare this Doc with Spike, just for a moment. Doc is alive, Spike is dead, but Spike's sexiness is a living thing, and Doc's is dead and cold. He is death in fancy clothes. And his character is like a suit of clothes--I think it's an aesthetic attraction I feel, and not an erotic one.

I keep inching closer and closer to rewatching The Day After Tomorrow. It disappointed me in the theater--great visuals, lamest, most wooden plot ever--but I want to see New York City destroyed again. I think I may need to.

I have this thought in my head, "I don't want to go to work tomorrow." But I don't have work work, I just have to go to the gym for an hour with my trainer. Apparently I've reached that stress level where even the smallest structured obligation freaks me out and feels like TOO TOO MUCH. Grrr. Also I did not eat pumpkin cheesecake tonight. Life is hard.
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