Log in

Just spent some time poking at old fanfic archive sites like The Family Archives. Chicago... Smitty... Tim and Cass's shenanigans... Dinah and Bruce's constant assertions about not sleeping together...

"Batgirl around?" Robin asked, glancing around the room.

"Nope. Off playing Evil Creepy Night Thing with Bruce. Did you come to visit her?" Barbara laid the back of her hand across her forehead. "I'm just not exciting enough to warrant my own midnight superhero encounters anymore?" [offpanel.net]

Looking back, in some cases ten or more years later... They aren't perfect, of course. I think we got a better handle over time on the economy of epiphanies and the avoidance of character bashing, and there has a been a drive, it seems, for more complex and less self-deprecatingly humorous grammar (obviously, I'm not making a global statement in any sense; I'm just talking about the fics I read then, compared with the fics I read later — there have always been fanfic of every kind and style, and each person's reading history, in her or his own way, traces the development of a one-person culture).

Be that as it may. The sheer enthusiasm of those stories! I'm certainly prejudiced because I was younger when I first read them, and perhaps very much in need of something like them, but it was a world in which Tim Drake could despair for coffee and Barbara Gordon would use a traffic gridlock to try and win a bet. A world where crime-fighting was a passion but not a psychopathology, where an entire fic could be dedicated to a dinner date, and among a kid's first words could be BA'GIRL. It was also a world where a single one-line story could freeze your blood.

They were good, and good for me, and it was good to revisit them.

Also, I revisited some old (but later) Stargate Atlatis fanvids. Atlantis! and Stress, in particular, were just as good as I remembered. There was a time when Stress was one of the ways in which I described myself to myself, although, thankfully, that has changed a bit.


A modest observation

I can easily resist pretty much any temptation, unless it's something I like.


Atoms are for chocolate

After four months in my new apartment, I thought it'd be a good idea to take the piles of books stacked against the walls and re-order them alphabetically.

It wasn't. My 8pm self is a sadistic trickster, that's what he is.

Now there's a n-1 relationship between alphabet letters and book piles, by author, although each pile isn't sorted, and a topical order would be much more useful (and take a damn lot of time).

Objects without identification+location chips somewhere in them (so I could keep them unsorted, but find anything quickly anyway) are evil and wrong and part of the resistentialist conspiracy.


Highlights of the week: I did boring work I'm unsuited for, work that I'm suited for but is still boring, and, depressingly, nothing else. I blame the brain weasels.

Details and so on under the cut.Collapse )

Two things I did today

  • Finished re-watching Sanctuary, mostly on fallacious grounds that I was watching it more often than I had scheduled for anyway. In conclusion, and as a lifelong Bruce Wayne fan: Helen Magnus is the grown-up Bruce Wayne.

  • Went to the Enrique Larreta Museum of Spanish Art, a very beautiful old house with mostly 16th/17th century Spanish art, and usually beautiful gardens. My idea was to idle around for a couple of hours, reading, but the gardens were so ill-tended that the frog calling and insect buzzing reminded me of The Colour Out of the Sky, and I left the place after half an hour for A/C and a panini.


Mini-review to follow at some point, as usual (note to self: the jackpot is a very interesting concept). Just wanted to leave myself a reminder of that peculiar feeling when you're reading a book across many days, different things getting in the way, so you can never advance much, until you cross some sort of combined threshold of frustration and progress, drop everything else you should be doing, and just sit with it until you finish regardless of how long it takes.

It's a pretty common experience, I think, and not necessarily far from other, less mild forms of compulsive behavior, but at some level I really wish I could set up my life so I could always pick up a book knowing that I need not put it down unless I wanted to (or I fell asleep, or, you know, just fell --- there are already too many restrictions of the sort, and somehow we keep adding more).


Status: Mostly moved in!

There's still stuff to do, and I haven't had yet the opportunity to just sit and enjoy it, but I officially moved today into my new apartment. Other than lack of space for a giant animatronic dinosaur, I'm happy with it.


Thinking of Tim and Cass today

Not sure why.

(Although I am gradually switching off my antidepressants as part of an experiment with my therapist(s), and the last time I was fully off-meds, Robin was a short overenthusiastic nerd who stalked Dick Grayson, and Batgirl was this slight wisp of a girl who hadn't been taught to read and could beat the crap out of Batman hand to hand. It feels too simplistic to say "cause and effect", but in any case I don't mind. I still love those two lethally overcompetent dorks to death.)


Latest Month

November 2015



RSS Atom
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow