Solitudes

I dragged myself out of bed for the express purpose of watching the Stargate episode Solitudes. I only really wanted to see the first five minutes of it, because of the absolutely classic Danny-whumping moment before the credits. If you haven't seen it.... the Gate malfunctions and Daniel comes flying through it like a bullet from a gun. He hits the ramp, blinks and passes out. Meow.
Anyway, I was only going to watch that bit, but I ended up watching the whole thing. It was actually a lot of fun. I wasn't going to watch it, also because the episode plot revolves around the twist at the end, and if you've already seen it, you're just on tenterhooks waiting for the sting in the tale. But I enjoyed it, beause it's been so long that I ever just watched an episode, not because I wanted some detail from it for a fanfic, not because I'd never seen it before, but just because it happened to be on.
My favourite episode ever - There but for the Grace of God - is on Friday. I foresee dragging myself out of bed again at eleven.

Anniversary

I've posted Em's birthday fic onto Heliopolis and Paradise Lost. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote it. I hate Sam/Jack shippiness, I really do. I like slash, but not in the way she likes ship. The fic I wrote is canon AU, which is one consolation, and it was her birthday, which is another.

The hit counters are looking ominous.
Em: 1906
Me: 1933

Dammitdammitdammit! There is no way I am going to be a coffee percolator!
I don't really know what I'm going to do now. Writing to Hathor might be a good idea.

The importance of checking beforehand.

About half an hour ago, I suddenly noticed the time, and jumped up because I'd missed most of M*A*S*H. But no matter, thought I. I hadn't bothered to check beforehand just which episode it was, and so with any luck I'd have seen it before, and I could watch the last five minutes of it.
It was "Abysinnia, Henry."

No! No, no, no!

Nocturnal creatures

Pedar is laughing at Will and Grace in the background. It's quite nice. From here, I can hear the dialogue so it's like a radio play.
I found my notebook today. The one I love so much, that I have been obsessed with for five years, that notebook. I'm glad.
I feel so strange. Not quite all here, would be one way to describe it. There is a part of me flying high somewhere else, perhaps in a hot air balloon. If I look down from the balloon, I can see sand dunes, rippled by the wind, casting deep, long shadows as the sun sinks towards the horizon. There are animals moving in the desert, fennec foxes and salanmanders, nocturnal creatures coming out in the cool of the evening. The temperature falls so fast that the sand almost creaks; strange sounds carry far in the still air. There are mirages, and strange and wonderful happenings, but no-one ever sees them because no-one ever sets foot here. Not even me in my hot air balloon.

Something.

Something hurts.
Like when you have a limb cut off, and then it itches despite the fact it isn't there.
So some part of me hurts horribly, and I don't know where it is or what it is or whether it's just an extension of my totally fucked-up mind.
I don't think I've ever reached this point of feeling like so many hundreds of different varieties of utter crap for a long time. I don't want to read or fucking write or listen to music and I don't want to watch TV. I don't want to go out, I don't want to stay here trapped in my own room and in my own head and I can't get out because there's nowhere to go. If I fall asleep I'll have to wake up. If I stay awake I don't know what I can do.