September 2002 Archives
Things are a bit slow around here, apologies for not being a little more entertaining. Flu bug, spending a lot of time sleeping and generally being quite sick.
An old friend of mine is working for the Peace Corps in Togo, and the villages in the area she works in entered a Unicef sponsored mural contest. Here are some of the winners: ART vs AIDS.
"I haven't had a dream in weeks," I said last night. Then I went to bed and dreamt I had a dream. In the dream, J. was alive and well and when I woke up I thought "That was vivid! Can it be true?" And then I woke up for real.
My Buffy Season 3 DVD set came in from Australia. Customs charged an extra 15 euro on it, but that still made it a LOT cheaper than buying it here. The Aussies packaging is more mundane than ours, they put each disc individually like an ordinary single DVD and then slip a case on three of them, so you get two seperate cases. It's a bit more bulky than the elaborate R2 packaging, but also less likely to scratch the discs. The extras on the disc are 'ok', I was disappointed with Jane Espenson's commentary - she just seems to be expositioning the plot. Doug Petrie's hilarious. The language featurette was a bit short. The thing that struck me most was the picture quality - much more obvious than the previous seasons DVDs. Wasn't S3 when they switched from 16mm to 35?
"He should have been first against the wall when the punk revolution came, but not a word was raised against him." The Guardian on Peter Gabriel. Haven't got the album yet, but what I heard after the initial disappointment with the single has been very encouraging. Uneasy, still digging in the dirt. Who needs happy songs anyway.
I'm sure this is really really old. But I hadn't heard it yet: "Computer games don't affect kids negatively; I mean if Pac-Man affected us as kids, we'd all be running around darkened rooms, munching magic pills and listening to repetitive electronic music." -Kristian Wilson, Nintendo, Inc.,1988
Seen: Enterprise 2x01. I'd almost forgotten Enterprise was starting again and only downloaded last week's S2 premiere yesterday night. It has the same excitement and energy of the first season's premiere, but we all know what happened to the rest of the season... Hopefully they'll manage to keep it exciting. That last speech Archer made was trite. And why on earth did Hoshi's top have to come off? What's the deeper meaning? Anyway, fuck the Suliban, can we have some Cardassians, please? Best villains ever.
Just wondering if we're having the bi-annual weblogger flu/cold/throaty-achy thing again. Anyone else out there feeling poorly?
Nerd pain: when your dad buys a new computer which means his will be so much better than yours.
Had my first acting lesson tonight. Lovely group of people, liked the teach despite her being of the female persuasion. We were doing exercises 3 minutes after walking in the door so there was absolutely no time to be shy or self concious. I let go and felt as cocky as I was 15 years ago. And, hurrah, classes (till november) are next to Tig Barra, an Irish pub that serves a mean pint of Boddington's.
plasticbag.org redesigns a little. Tom's being Kottkesque.
I'm gonna see Sinead in London on November 9. Imagine big fucking smiley here.
Finally, finally, finally, Sinead's got her own proper website
Seen: Firefly, Joss Whedon's new series. Love the way it looks, though I hope they'll play down the "Western" feel a bit as the series progresses. My problem's with the actors... none of 'em strike my fancy, though it's always hard to say after just one episode. And does Whedon always cast his lead actors with a lisp?
Currently playing Peter Gabriel's new single 'The Barry Williams Show'. Sounds suspiciously like the single the record company ordered. "Do us another Sledgehammer, Peter." I'm positive the rest of the album's going to be better.
AVOID restaurant Dish in Utrecht. At least two of us got the runs, probably off their chips. I squeezed a spoonful of grease out of one of mine, and it tasted rancid. Service was crap too. They panicked having to seat a 'group' of 8 and made us choose from a set menu. Things arrived late, not at all, wrong... you name it.
I have acute Imminent-Parental-Unit-VisitTM panic.
Note to self: when doing promotion for a story telling site, have a story to tell.
Slashdot interviews| Janis Ian: "I've gotten to meet people I'd never ordinarily get to meet; kings and queens, novelists, Pulitzer Prize winners, artists I've dreamed of meeting. I've gotten to watch 35,000 people in Holland sing harmony with me."
It's on UPN tomorrow evening, but I got my grubby hands on Buffy Season 7, episode 1 today. Well, 25 minutes worth of clips from it. The verdict: Spike's less annoying. Buffy/Dawn sisteraction is good. There was some kick ass fighting. New characters not annoying. Didn't see enough of Xander to judge. Liking Willow a bit more than last season. Giles was a bit too mellow and new agey. All in all... happy with it. Gimme more now.
I'll be talking about AmsterdamStories.com tomorrow between 7 and 9 on "Ring Amsterdam", Amsterdam FM. 88.1 cable, 106.8 ether.
We could have done with a look at this tonight: The Rocky Horror Picture Show Audience Participation Script. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we (myself and m, m, l, t, c, v, s) finally caught the Rocky Horror Picture Show on Neude square in Utrecht. Out in the freezing cold, the rain started coming down EXACTLY at the right moment (know when that would be?).
Someone explain to me what those pictures in the book Mr Giles is reading are about?
Le Guin's The Other Wind arrived and I read it very quickly yesterday. I was practically drooling over the first few chapters, so happy to find out how Ged was doing, in his 70s now (and while reading, also digesting the melancholic feelings that come with that notion), but then the story moves away from him and centers around the women... and I just lose interest. I raced through those chapters, the larger part of the book. Put it down, dissatisfied. Started on the other one, Tales from Earthsea, last night and enjoying it.
Gosford Park. Was looking forward to this but found it uninvolving. Had problems following the dialogue even with the sound turned up. It looks great and all the actors are brilliantly self-effacing. The butler didn't do it.
On advice of the video salesman I rented The Mothman Prophecies. He claimed it wasn't too scary. Unfortunately the combination thriller, supernatural and insects makes me ill so I had to switch this off halfway through. Directed by Mark Pellington... wasn't he involved in Zoo TV?
I understand what football's good for now. It's something for people to talk about at parties, at great length. Other than babies and politics. I now also understand why I have such a difficult time at parties, most of the time. (Ticks off subjects in head. Buffy? naah. Gav? They're bored already. U2? Maybe. Web stuff? God no. ... Pours self another drink. ... Oh god, I really am a nerd.)
Really would like one of these. Because I don't have enough bags.
Oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph.The cat is out of the bag. That's me in the corner, darlings. I suppose I should feel nervous about working on something that people regard as the "U2 bible", on something that's considered 'news', on something that's described as "possibly the definitive book on U2's history as a live band". I can't make it better, it's quite possible I can fuck it up. What I've got to try is maintain its painstaking level of accuracy and dedication. I have a book's reputation and a friend's legacy to uphold. I'm not nervous. Yet.
Things are really unfolding,
Anyone else ever kiss their mobile phone?
Jason's back: Somnolent.org.
Giant Killer Rabbit, Black Night, Live Parrot (sleeping). Bring out your Python toys.
Rented some films today. Needed a laugh, so I popped Zoolander in the player. [ crickets chirping ] When I woke up, the film was nearly done. Thank goodness. Thus rested, I proceeded with Monster's Ball. Definitely awake now. I think I'm going to watch it again. Right now. If you haven't seen it, rent it.
"Tea is soothing. I wish to be tense." Lance on coffee. (quote not from this article)
"Many of you feel bad for this lamp," the man says in a Swedish accent. "That is because you're crazy. It has no feelings, and the new one is much better." IKEA should appeal to America. Its stores are HUGE. IHT write up on Swedes trying to conquer the USA market. "Generally, advertising doesn't call you crazy". No, generally it assumes you are.
Things I did yesterday: Saw GP, queued up for ointments, took a pill, read a book, applied thinly, updated my sites, travelled first class, pulled a deep fried snack out of a wall, slept on public transport, drank a pineapple smoothie, sauntered through a city, realised I missed it, hacked a friend's password in 30 seconds, chomped on corn on the cob, wondered about cardamom, drank a little wine, made fun of Dutch people, read intimate details, 't was only a menthol, laughed a little, saw a grown man cry, ate too much, yankee doodle gentleman, missed the last metro by 30 seconds, over tipped a taxi driver, applied for a job.
Clive who? I think Alexis Denisof should be the next Bond.
The end is nigh. Singing Detective, The (2003). An American remake of the Dennis Potter BBC TV series. Shudder. (via L-rs)
Shall we raise a glass to the West Wing? Yeah!: I was just about to start keeping score. Then I typed in "West Wing + dialogue + yeah" in Google and found out I'm not the only one who noticed. It's... comforting. All this is true too. And I will. Read a book. When I'm done enjoying my soap.
"Bond as a scarred man with clear psychological damage, often on the edge of being removed from service by M on mental health grounds." More James Bond musing by Warren Ellis via LinkMachineGo. (Am I the only one whose brain says "It's Mah-she-nay-go"?) I for one would welcome a Bond truer to the books. Not to be obsessive about it, but I think Tony Head's recent portrayal of disillussioned agent Peter Salter in "Spooks" (But without the, um, death, at the end, please. 's Not good for the franchise.) is where I'd like to see this character go. Bruce Wayne rather than Clark Kent. Ruthless with a yearning, bruised core.
"Love appears every day for one who offers love." (via Caterina) Oh those Dutch mystics, what were they on?
It's fray day again. I love that 'official fray day image' (with sneaky dmp reference).
Read this very late last night in bed in the introduction to the Penguin Bond trilogy I'm reading: (On Ian Fleming) "On questions of androgeny, it might be said, he swung both ways. Indeed, Noel Coward wrote to him teasingly after reading the passage in which Honeychile Rider's rear-end is described as temptingly boyish: 'I know we are all becoming progressively more broadminded nowadays but really, old chap, what could you have been thinking of?"
When fandoms collide: Delicious Demon Digs Bono
Waterstone's have that '3 for 2' thing going on and usually there's nothing in there I'd like to read. This time I got lucky, the salesman agreed. Lou Reed's Pass Thru Fire, collected lyrics. Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (Hollywood in the 60s and 70s) and Alone of All Her Sex: Myth and Cult of Virgin Mary, which will make a nice birthday present for a certain gent.
After some hassle involving courses that are very popular and almost completely booked out and forms going missing, I've now got a confirmation for the acting classes I will be taking. So from late September till January 2003 expect to hear me waffle on about Stanislavski and blocking. I do believe this course ends with a no doubt embarrassing live performance to which you are all cordially invited in advance. I've found out the teacher is a woman which doesn't bode well for me. Women-in-charge vs Me? Big trouble. It's a thing.
This site will be down for server maintenance on Saturday, Sept 14, between 10:00 PM and 3:00 AM PDT.
Does anyone useXnews to read usenet? I am having some trouble getting my head around it. How the hell do I actually SAVE binaries to my hard disk?
Over the last two or three weeks I've downloaded 22 episodes of "The West Wing". The thing about this series is that within two or three episodes I started to 'care' for these characters. The whole thing kept reminding me of something. Now, 22 episodes (mostly S1, but have watched some S2 and S3 too) on, I have figured out what it is. E.R. When I started watching E.R. on Dutch TV, right in the middle of the Ross/Hathaway romance, I didn't miss a single episode for an entire season. That's 22 Friday nights spent at home. (This makes me either a very sad, or very dedicated person. Probably both. But I digress.) Thing is, I now also remember that while I was mad for E.R., I read about a new series 'by the makers of E.R.' which was going to be set in the White House and I told myself to 'look out for that'. And here we are now. One more thing. The music on this show is absolutely, bum clenchingly awful. What are they trying to convey? Peyton Place?
Nice result of my recent CD swap. I'd bought Hawksley Worksman, a Canadian artist. Hated the album. Requested swap without mentioning the artist. A Canadian responded, and sent me a CD he didn't like in return. Which happens to be "Night Bugs" an album by... Canadian artist Sarah Slean. Reminds me of Tori Amos and Fiona Apple, in a good way. I'm pretty sure I got the better end of the deal. To make things even weirder... Hawksley Worksman is actually one of the musicians/engineers on this album.
Well, that's just weird. I mention the late Roger Zelazny's brilliant Amber series and the next day a post on MeFi alerts me to the fact that someone's taken up the task to write a prequel: Roger Zelazny's the Dawn of Amber. Apparently, it's shite. But as someone who bought the 'visual guide to Amber'... I can't NOT read this book (first in a prequel trilogy).
{ South Africa, 1976, click to enlarge }
My parents took me to South Africa twice between 76/77, when it really wasn't kosher to go there. Being a rather young 12 year old, I had very little idea why we shouldn't go and had little say in the matter anyway.
I later embarrassed myself in the school paper, defending our decision to holiday in a country enforcing apartheid. Thinking about this makes me cringe.
Before we went, my father investigated whether I would be allowed entrance to this country, and whether I would be permitted to use the 'vir blankes' W.C. or walk their segregated beaches. Apparently, I was just white enough to qualify. If I were a parent, I don't think I'd be able to stomach the idea. I am not a parent.
Separating the two stays there is almost impossible, because they were very close to each other. I know one was during Christmas and involved a salmon mousse melting in the summer heat. There was a fake plastic tree by the barbecue and I fell deeply in love with two fat Labrador dogs called 'Pepsi' and 'Cola'.
There was a man who looked like David Niven, in a navy blazer and creme coloured slacks. In his clipped South African English accent he boasted about his dog. He said the dog, although not trained to do so, would bark at blacks, never at whites. Listening to him I made up my mind that however gorgeous the Port Elizabeth beaches were, and however stunning those purple sunsets over Table mountain looked, this was not a good place on earth. These were not good people.
{ Durban. S.A., 1976, click to enlarge }
We visited Hluhluwe national park. I ate roast Impala meat and sweet carrots. I died a thousand deaths walking on the stiff, slightly rubbery, tropical grass lawn, when a grasshopper as big as the African continent landed on my girlie knee. I do believe I screamed.
My father, sporting his colonial outfit - the khaki shirt and shorts, the knee length stockings - went night hunting with the men on a farm the size of the province of Utrecht while the women stayed home to... well to wait until they returned. He came back having shot (or at least shot at) a porcupine. The animal was dumped in front of the servants' quarters.
Its quills served as a souvenir, on which I pricked myself many times.
September
Streets capsizing
Spilling over
Down the drain
Shards of glass splinters like rain
But you could only feel
Your own pain
October
Talking getting nowhere
November
December
Remember
Please, U2
The pension bloke rang to ask me what to do about my pension arrangement. I hadn't given it much thought yet. 'Do you have a new job?' No. 'Will you have a new job soon?' No. 'It's bad in your branch, isn't it?' Yeh. Advice was given, a decision made. 'Be strong,' the pension bloke said as if someone had died. Trop de familiarité pour si peu de connaissance.
I'm looking for this song: The Ghost of You Walks by Richard Thompson. (And I do buy things once I like 'em, often before.)
{ Wales, 1984 }
We stood on the cliffs, tossing rocks into the sea. Standing behind J. and the little group, I used my catcher-to-second-base arm to hurl a stone out further than anyone else.
J. turned around. 'Who threw that,' he demanded, impressed.
'Me,' I said. I grinned, because I had been trying to impress. 'Now will you teach me cricket?' I asked.
'Maybe,' he said, back to his grumpy old self. Cricket wasn't something you should waste on bloody foreigners.
Tonight, among his friends, I will drink cider and I will remember our school visit in Wales, 18 years ago. I will remember how we laughed when J., forced to dress up for the school principal, secured his new suit trousers with staples, then wore Adidas runners underneath.
I think he only ever gave me a birthday present once in my life. The book I don't remember. The card, I do. It was a photograph of apples, all of them black except one which was green.
He'd written: "From another one who stands out in a crowd"
Not one, but TWO new Earthsea books? The Earthsea Trilogy is one of my favourite fantasy series (on par with Zelazny's Amber Chronicles). When I saw these two new books a minute ago I didn't have to think: Tales from Earthsea (More about the mage school, Roke! How did Orion stop the earthquake! More Ged! Drool!) and The Other Wind (Ged and whatsername live like ordinary people. Ho hum.) are mine in one click. Even if LeGuin's first addition to the trilogy, Tehanu, was disappointing. (We don't like to see our hero lose their powers and become 'normal')
Ms Leguin's got her own website.
Currently reading the The Lost Slayer, Part Two, 1 Prophecies, 3 King of the Dead and 4, Original Sins. One of the few Buffy novelisations that I've actually enjoyed. Most of the time, official novelisations lack character (literally). Where the TV Series thrives on subtext, the novels are devoid of that important ingredient. I also spent some time reading Tales of the Slayer, Vol 1, which looks at various different Slayers throughout the centuries. It's really rather bloody and depressing and I couldn't get into it. Much preferred the graphic novel confusingly also entitled 'Tales of the Slayer'.
I signed up for Erik Benson's All Consuming. Erik created a script that visits newly updated weblogs hourly via Weblogs.com. The script looks for links to Amazon.com items and saves them. Erik then aggregates all that information together to find the most frequently mentioned books. The scoring mechanism is weighted to favour recently mentioned books, so that the list remains fresh, and offers new insight into what the weblog community is reading at the moment. Thing is, I order from and link to books at Amazon.co.uk most of the time. I'll have to add .com links.
Here's 'my' All Consuming page.
It's a siren song and the rocks are cold and hard. Late last night and this morning, I got completely and utterly spoilt for the first episode of BtVS S7 (which will be aired in three weeks time on UPN). As in, I've read a recap from someone who has seen the rough cut (pre FX). Aaah, bliss. [...] I have extraordinary addictions. (Now, consequence that.)
Dave Stewart: "It was complete overload. With my first advance, instead of buying amplifiers, I bought a pound of Moroccan hash and 1,000 capsules of a drug called mescaline - a bit like LSD - and went completely bonkers. From about the age of 18 to 24, it's that classic blur."
Quickly, to the Angel!mobile, away! (600k wav)
I'll compete in the best wannabe British blog awards.
I was googling for the West Wing, in particular a scene in which an angry and defiant president (Martin Sheen) goes one on one with the man upstairs. In Latin. Powerful scene. I found an interview with the actor, full of sensible quotes, but this last paragraph resonated in particular: "The word ‘practical’ never enters into an artist. There's nothing practical about it. If you thought in terms of practical you'd never have any art, I think. 'Cause it's gotta cost you something, and the artist is the first one to pay, before anyone else is willing to pay. If you're 50 years old and you're unfulfilled and you're yearning to play, to perform, to be an actor, and you don't do it for practical reasons, then you're not an actor. You're a businessman or something else, I don't know what you are, but you're not an actor, you're not an artist."
Well, this is great. Am now officially addicted to no less that four TV series, BtVS, AtS, SFU and the West Wing. Now, everybody knows DVDs are cheaper in the USA/Canada, but there's a problem with TV series. They don't get released until years after their first airing, because the shows are expected to make money through syndication, unlike in Europe, where syndication doesn't exist. So... DVDs for Buffy are available S1-5 in Europe and S6 isn't too far off. In North America, they've only recently released S2. Bugger. But... no worries, mate, Australia's doing it our way and guess what, they're as cheap as the USA ones. Strewth!
Damn yanks and their perfect teeth. (Alyson Hanigan and Alexis Denisof, lovely couple.)
Finally some more news on Sinead O'Connor's upcoming trad album: Sean-Nós Nua. Out on October 7. Check the sweet pics, hi-res and all. The album's produced by Sinead, Donal Lunny, Adrian Sherwood and features Sharon Shannon and Steve Wickham.
Last night's John Cage recital was interesting. Dante didn't just play, he explained and gave a lot of background about Cage's work. A lot of it sounded cinematic to me, perhaps that idea was set off by the first piece, Music for Marcel Duchamp, which was in fact written for a film. I think my favourite piece played was 'The Seasons, Ballet in One Act'. After the break, Dante performed 4'33'', which (including pauses between the three parts) amounted to 5 minutes of silence. Five minutes focusing on background noise and the thoughts in your head. Dante explained that 4'33'' is a piece you can think about and enjoy a lot, whereever you are "if you're sensitive to that kind of thing". I can imagine, but not attain it. Next to me, a beardy chap timed the whole thing, with his stopwatch. Deliciously anal.
Tomorrow, September 5, it'll be 90 years ago composer John Cage was born. I know fuck all about him, other than 'oh yeah, modern composer', but a friend is involved in a recital to be played at the Bethanien Convent here in Amsterdam. He's being billed as a 'virtuoso pianist' and he'll be covering a number of Cage's works which I think will include 4'33'' (... of silence. Remember this news item some time ago?). Five composers have been asked to write hommages to Cage, in one key, either C, A, G, E or D. If I understand correctly, these hommages will be played simultaneously. There'll be toy pianos, radios and cookery. I've never seen him play before. Looking forward to it.
VPRO is offering some recent live recordings: 16 Horsepower at Lowlands, DJ Shadow, Zuco 103 (Lowlands). All in Real Audio.
The exclamation 'Word!' is just a marginally cooler way of posting 'me too!'.
London, New York... MT conquers the world. And Minimal!Chris.
Old, but nifty list that helped me download the best Brazilian tunes, AND gave me a translation of #1, Águas de Março. One of my favourites, Estate, didn't even make the list.
(Moved this up because I want to hear more) Name one song that makes you cry. I'll start: The Sundays - Wild Horses.
Bon voyage to lia who is off to NYC for a year and I really really really want to visit.
I welcome September.
Summer's been an unwelcome guest this year. A mostly wet, oftentimes too oppressive guest I could have done without.
Last year we wallowed in it, working up a tan waiting outside, queuing up for U2 concerts. We'd sweat, we'd suffer, and then sweat and suffer a few hours more before finally hugging each other close not minding the sweat and not remembering the suffering.
And in between the gigs we'd gather on Leidseplein to drink flat beer and speculate and just laugh. We laughed so much. Just like we always did, back when we were inseparable and understanding was a given, not a task.
I love the sun, the heat, but wanted no part of it this year. I resisted. I rebelled. The sweat made my skin itch, I scratched till it bled.
I wanted rain and thunder, I wanted the sky to crack open and hammer the earth. I wanted the trees to bend and break. Anything but here. Anything but now. Let it rain.
A blessing: summer only seemed to last two weeks.
Autumn makes sense.
"I've never accepted this unsolicited offer of help, preferring to swear at the friendly little paperclip until it goes away, each time hoping that it will do so without winking at me like some kind of freakish, wireformed Anne Robinson." A little gem found in the comments of arghh.org.
A long time ago I talked about the Bruggenletter, and how I wish there was a truetype for this letter used on bridges in Amsterdam. Then Ramiro dropped me a line saying he'd been working on a version. He kept in touch, giving me glimpses of previews, and now it's done! Just in time for the impending amsterdamstories.com redesign. I couldn't be more thrilled. See the font in action here.
Great Bond post at MeFi. I would like a Miguel Cardoso in my circle of friends. Just so I don't have to make my own cocktails. And because I can appreciate this level of obsessiveness/passion/intensity (whatever you prefer) in people. Hey, J.S., how's the bar up there?
... I really should re-read Fleming's Bond novels. I read them all when I was 7 off my grandfather's shelf. I thought they were 'naughty' and that was exciting, but I'd also like to think I actually learnt a bit about 'real life' from them. I definitely recognised Bond's cruelty and masochism and thought that that bit was glossed over in the films - yes, at that age. (My experience with this has also made me a firm believer that you should never try to shield your children from 'all the badness in the world'. I don't think it's wise to try and keep them 'innocent' artificially. But then I don't have any kids.) At the age of 9, my mother took me and my 12 year old cousing Michael to Tuschinski to see the latest Bond film. They wouldn't let me in. I cried: "I've read all the books, I KNOW what it's about!" But they wouldn't budge.
I read the books again again around the time I was 20, I bought them all, even the John Gardner ones - later sold them. By this time, I realised our Mr Bond was a mysogynist as well. Pushing 40 now, I wonder if my appreciation of them has changed in any way. Guess what... the novels are being re-released.
Hydragenic's all Movable Typy now. Ping. Ping. Ping.
The evolution of type. Must read this. [via druppels]
This'll only mean something to Dutch readers. Today's 'Zomergasten' is fucking brilliant, between Van Dis and Huub van der Lubbe. Especially the Van Eede - Meyer interview they showed, in which Meyer questions the very nature of TV interviewing and asks Van Eede why he doesn't ask him what he really wants to know. Why no TV interview EVER is about having a real conversation, but always about showing off, about filling another hour on the box. And this ties in with something that's been gnawing at me for the last few weeks and with my questioning the reasons for being on some mailing lists where there's never any real conversation, or discovery, or learning, just a litany of 'me too's' and bollocks. And, going back to the programme, then Huub called good old Pim a genius, and that put a smile on my face, cause I like the idea that once in a previous life I got absolutely hammered with a genius and a bottle of Jack. Back in the day when a little girl thought she could drink a 6ft something musician under the table. And more... that bit of Ramses Shaffy, singing his guts out on a beach in very tight trousers. "Mens durf te Leven' Wow.
WHEDONesque : Recent referrers (unique): we've been Slashdotted. Sorta.
"I will learn you, I will play you and the stars stand still to hear." The Strange Music
It's silly that I've never seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show. The extra features sound good. I have it on good authority, DVD Box Office in Canada is a great place to shop. So, here goes my first order there.
I'm cross posting like mad these days... I just made a post at WHEDONesque about actors choosing the song that defines them and good old Watcher, Anthony Stewart Head, chose Ann Peebles' I can't stand the rain. And look what I've got here, an actual mp3 of him singing the song at a con some years ago. Check out that luvvie accent.