kali

via rm: I found this delightful piece of nausea inducing vitriol from the mouth of author, John C. Wright. It's one of the most offensive things I've ever read. More so even than Orson Scott Card, which is saying something.

It's also really charming to see names I recognize from various fandoms (Star Wars being a particular offender) agreeing with this crap. I knew these folk wrote het, but I didn't realize it was from hate as opposed to "I just happen to ship this."

faris_nallaneen: we were eying some of his books the other day in B&N. I think we can safely say avoid, yes?

If you too wish to express dismay with the power of your pocketbook, here's a list of all his works.

Dude, vidding Torchwood is hard.

Can it really be that I know the canon so much less well than Who? My canon knowledge is usually pretty good, but I've watched all of New Who like, at least six or seven times, and Torchwood... only two or three times all the way through. As well, with Torchwood, I have a lot of informational knowledge (plot, etc) but not a lot of visual knowledge, whereas I can close my eyes and see the scenes unfolding if I think about a New Who episode.

Also vidding Jack and Ianto -- all their good scenes together are... in my head? Seriously, it's a whole barrel of other issues than writing. In vidding, I cannot just move them around like puppets! (Well, I probably could if I were, a) better and b) had better software, but STILL.) And all their scenes have... not a wide range of position? Nor do they really... touch each other casually? And Ianto, at least, seems to have very few scenes alone, so they're not all-purpose/re-purposable, as it were.

I persevere, but damn.

Here, have some top 5s:

For such_heights
(  Top five Doctor moments! )


For verasteine
( Top five favourite quotes! )


For itcamefromjapan
(  Top five moments at which you fell completely in love - with a character, episode, fandom, etc. )


For coyotegoth
( top five death scenes – spoilers for Pather Panchali, Terminator 2, Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, Angel, Bridge to Terabithia )


For jlh
(  Five things you didn't think you'd like at first/before you watched them but totally loved. TV/movie/books/music/whatever. )

P.S. How much do I want to teach this course? How much do I want to take this course? SO MUCH.

OMG resetting the router worked. Thank you thank you thank you.

Part 3 is coming soon. Caveat for these: my brain's pretty swiss cheese at the moment. Might have forgotten some totally apt response, and will curse myself later. Decisions are hard!

For lefaym
( top five moments of AWESOME FAIL - that is a plot hole, bad acting, etc, that turns out to be awesome because it provides an opening for fic, or simply because you love the cheesiness of it, etc. )

For stardragonca
( top five things a TV show/movie got right )

For laughingacademy
(  Top five things I did not see coming. ) [Contains spoilers for: Doctor Who, The Prestige, The Mist (film), Julian May's Pliocene Exile & Galactic Milieu series, Supernatural.]

For neifile7
(  Top five bunnies that ate your brain -- whether they turned into fic or not. )

Theory: All these DDoS attacks are from, I dunno, Iran? This is revenge for the Social Network Triumph of 2009, i.e. TWEET AGAINST THE REGIME or something.

In conclusion: LET ME BACK ON LJ, YOU HACKING ASSHATS. I am going insane.

Okay, all the cool kids are doing it.

Ask me my fannish Top Five [Whatevers]. Any top fives. Doesn't matter what, really! And I will answer them all in a new post. Possibly with pictures.

Minneapolis is a city on the second floor, and its labyrinthine-ness means that directions have three dimensions. (Remember, the enemy's gate is down, I kept thinking.)

( Cut for some pictures )

Anyway, I am home now. I have stuff to say about the con as a whole, but I think that must wait till I have a) some sleep, and b) some perspective.

There was some *fail of various kinds, and I'm writing this down here, because I have to write about it, and I want to not be a victim of my own cowardice and, you know, speak about/interrogate how I feel. So, f-list, if I don't do that by tomorrow night, please nudge me. I really want to do this, and I think it's important that I do. But... I'm giving myself a day to compost first.

Plus, I think I'm still hungover.

Met lots of great folk! Hung out with awesome people I already knew. Got a lapdance (???).¹ Drank way too many martinis. (See above re: hangover.) invisible_lift, rm, miep and I wrote fic! Post-it Fic! That I love with an inordinate passion, perhaps disproportionate to its, er... significance. But so it goes. Hopefully there will be posting (of the post-its? Hah.) soon.

So, more soon. I promise. (Hold me to it, okay?)

¹They said it was burlesque. It was not burlesque. On the other hand, she had nerd glasses and purred in my ear? And rubbed noses? What, as they say, the fuck?

After many days to cogitate, here are my thoughts on yaoi Torchwood, RTD, the whole shebang.

Dear Mr. Davies,

You like analogies, right? Many writers do. Here's one for you:

Imagine that I'm a fan of sport-- track and field, to be precise. And I've come to watch a patricular relay race. I like races, I may (or may not) be a runner myself, but I'm very familiar with them, and this race is particularly special, because I know that the baton (that this particular team I'm rooting for is carrying) is especially shiny! In fact, it was handed down from another relay team that I particularly like, so I'm excited, you know, weight of tradition and all. It's quite an honor. This baton has the name of the new team emblazoned on it; in fact, all they've done is switch the letters around. Instead of my beloved "Park Lamb" this team's called "Lampbark."

Okay, great. So I'm settling in to the bleachers now, excited, anticipatory, ready for whatever comes. The first runner comes on, and you know, they're not the best runner in the world -- a little overweight, maybe, and not great form -- but oh, man, have they got heart. So even though they look a little silly, from time to time, I'm okay. I'm there, still happy, still cheering. The second guy takes the hand-off, and he starts out pretty well, a bit too flash and full of himself maybe, but still, gets me rising to my feet, yelling, "go on! go on! yay!" And then, omg, just as he's about to hand off, he takes a tumble and FALLS. Not just a little stumble either, but full on face-plant. He struggles to his feet, though, and even though I'm wincing for him with that road rash all over his face, and I don't even want to look anymore because, whoa, gross! and I'm pretty sure they've lost the race now, right? Even then, some sense of tenacity makes me hang on... I mean, this guy had heart too, right, and hey, if you're gonna fall, do it with gusto and panache, eh?

And then, somehow, he manages to make the hand-off. I look at this next runner, and I think, okay. Great, good, perfect. Because he's beautiful. I know him of old (he used to anchor my beloved "Park Lamb") and I'm all like, oh, god, yes. Because this guy can run. AND he has heart, I think. No one else comes close. Now we're gonna fucking knock this baby out of the park.

( Avast. Here there be Spoilers )

Death happens. Not all stories end well, especially some of the most beautiful ones. I accept this. But, let me digress for a moment. There's an author by the name of Sara Douglas, and despite being into doorstopper fantasy, I made it partway through one of her books, and then was unable to continue. And this doesn't happen to me much. Once started, I pretty much almost always finish. One time I googled her, and found the following and then I understood why I couldn't, questions of writing quality aside.

Why did I kill/maim/be cruel to 'x' character?

I am going to use Ray Feist's answer here: "Because I bloody well could". Because I'm the author and because it felt good for me and for the integrity of the novel at the time. I don't particularly like happy endings, and novels where no-one gets hurt occasionally makes for bland reading. Tension requires that the characters which readers get emotionally sympathetic with must occasionally die. Badly.

[...]

Is Faraday ever going to have a happy ending?

I would dearly like to squash her under a huge pumpkin studded with rusty twelve-inch nails so that she dies a lingering, painful death from blood poisoning and a badly leaking belly, and I reserve the right to do so any time I feel like it. (Of course, by the time you get to the end of "Crusader" you'll see that that is not quite the fate I've given her ... nevertheless, I've been nasty enough ...)

Do I like my characters?

Sometimes, sometimes not. As is apparent in the above question, I have never liked Faraday very much, and other characters I get seriously annoyed with... (Source.)

What I ask from a writer of meaningful texts, and tragedy, is very simple. I ask that you love your characters and your world. I ask that you be them, though they are not you. I ask that you mourn with me when they die, because you love them, and because it hurts you to do this to them as well, but you will, only because you must. If we use the divine metaphor, where you are the god of this world you've created, I demand that you be the kind of god that cares for the fall of a sparrow as much as for the death of a star. Or a person.

I do not respect you if you kill these things and experience no pain. I think, then, that you are a coward. And one that has no understanding of stories and their immense power.

I also do not respect you if your method of justification involves cutting down the community around you, and other writers and other stories. Your fans, many of them, are writers too. And not just of fanfic (though that is not a value judgement.) Also, they are scholars, artists, activists and most importantly readers. They too fight. They too think. They too are geeks in a mainstream world, curved in a world of straight lines. Their typing is not fundamentally, essentially different from yours. In quality perhaps. In quantity perhaps. But you don't always come out on the right side of that balance, and in the end, it's simply a matter of degree.

Respect them. Sure, there are the crazy ones. What lover of something isn't a bit mad? And some more than others. Even then, they just might have a point. They might make you better. They might keep you grounded.

Be a reader of your own work, with them. It might remind you...

...you are not alone.

Love,
Kali

I made my first vid, you guys! It was on Windows Movie Maker, which I found to be a little bit like trying to make a painting with a rock instead of a paintbrush. Er, not that I've ever done that.

ANYWAY. Here it is. (On youtube. God only knows for how long. Aren't they yanking vids like crazy? What streaming site are people using these days? Are there any?) Concrit & tips very, very much appreciated.

Song/Artist: This Year by The Mountain Goats.
Vidder: kalichan
Fandom: Doctor Who
Summary: Every waking second, he can see: what is, what was, what could be, what must not. And he's gonna make it through this year if it kills him.
Spoilers: Through The Next Doctor.
Pairing/Characters: Mostly gen with hints of Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose, Ten/Simm!Master, and a smidgebit of Nine/Jack. Also features Martha, Sarah Jane, and Donna.

( Vid embedded beneath this cut )

Hi guys. Thanks to all the commenters on The Deep That We Shall Never See; I'm sorry I haven't responded yet, but I will. It's a problem of... not knowing what to say, and being... on a weird page, I guess. Anyway, I do sincerely appreciate it. And luckily rm has been holding down the fort.

I've been taking a computer break. Saturday, I had to watch CoE again, with my darling faris_nallaneen who had not yet seen it. And the lovely magnetgirl came over too. ( spoilers )

Today I left the house. It was exciting, maybe the most gorgeous day of summer we've had yet, with not a cloud in the clear, blue sky. D. and I drove down Riverside Drive, and had dinfast at the Boat Basin Cafe -- a big juicy charred burger, with juicy red beefsteak tomato, and red onion and sharp green lettuce. It tasted unbelievably good. Then we walked through Riverside Park, stopping at the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial to watch two guys practice the fencing scene from Hamlet. (Which I discovered just now through a little google-fu is for an actual, free production, to be performed on the North Patio there from the folks at Hudson Warehouse.)

And then we wandered over to Broadway, and D. bought me a copy of The Demon's Lexicon by sarahtales.(I've just finished it, and I loved it, actually. If you like YA, and/or watch Supernatural, I strongly recommend you give it a go. Two brothers, demons, snark, magicians, betrayal, love in odd places and of odd kinds... it's quite lovely. I knew what the deal was before I was a quarter of the way in, but it's not really an "oh what a twist" book -- the fun is in watching it unfold to the characters, and that part is done really beautifully. It's the first entry in a trilogy, but absolutely satisfying as a standalone.)

After that, we sat in the sun for a while, reading, and snuggling, and laughing, with the breeze in our face. Ten minutes at a time went by that I didn't say something about Torchwood. (I think it was at least half an hour, but D. disagrees.)

Then we drove home.

Life, it goes on.

Also, sex is nice. Note to self: Do not get so wrapped up in bloody Torchwood that you forget this simple fact. *grin* I don't know how D. puts up with me. But I thank all the small gods for it. ( spoilers )

I have stuff to say about writing and stories and art. But that will wait for tomorrow later today. I really need to get to sleep.