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Jun. 23rd, 2003
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Journey of a Sorceror
Jun. 23rd, 2003 04:20 pmI'm listening to the Eagles' Journey of a Sorceror. This is quite, quite surreal. It brings back all these memories (memories? I just wrote "meteorites" and had to correct it) of the Voice of the Guide. I can't quote any of it word-for-word any more, but it's just so... brilliant.
"Far away in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm lies a small unregarded yellow sun..."
Anyway, where was I? Yes... well, I didn't do much this morning, mainly ploughed through another three hundred messages on the mailing list and reading a little fic. Then Pedar rang, said he needed my help braving the Bureau de Change, and could I get the next train. I did. The journey proved an adventure, as I nearly missed the train and had to be lunatic-running-onto-platform-as-train-doors-close. The train chugged along merrily for a while before stopping dead for no particular reason. They later told us it was because of "an animal on the line." Whether the animal was a squirrel or a cow or what, they didn't say.
Pedar and I traipsed around Southport for a while trying to work out commission rates in our heads, until we finally gave up and sat somewhere and had coffee. We got to talking, as usual, and he asked me if it's true that Harry Potter is getting so much darker. I told him yes, and then we started talking about the next film - that is, Prisoner of Azkaban. I get the feeling they may have to change its plot to give it a certificate less than 12A. Sirius slashing at Ron with a twelve-inch knife is scary. So are the Dementors. So is Lupin. When I asked Pedar whether he thought they'd change the plot, he asked me what I thought they'd do, given a choice between being faithful to the book and making a lot more money.
No contest. Boo.
And that is all.
"Far away in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm lies a small unregarded yellow sun..."
Anyway, where was I? Yes... well, I didn't do much this morning, mainly ploughed through another three hundred messages on the mailing list and reading a little fic. Then Pedar rang, said he needed my help braving the Bureau de Change, and could I get the next train. I did. The journey proved an adventure, as I nearly missed the train and had to be lunatic-running-onto-platform-as-train-doors-close. The train chugged along merrily for a while before stopping dead for no particular reason. They later told us it was because of "an animal on the line." Whether the animal was a squirrel or a cow or what, they didn't say.
Pedar and I traipsed around Southport for a while trying to work out commission rates in our heads, until we finally gave up and sat somewhere and had coffee. We got to talking, as usual, and he asked me if it's true that Harry Potter is getting so much darker. I told him yes, and then we started talking about the next film - that is, Prisoner of Azkaban. I get the feeling they may have to change its plot to give it a certificate less than 12A. Sirius slashing at Ron with a twelve-inch knife is scary. So are the Dementors. So is Lupin. When I asked Pedar whether he thought they'd change the plot, he asked me what I thought they'd do, given a choice between being faithful to the book and making a lot more money.
No contest. Boo.
And that is all.
Green forms
Jun. 23rd, 2003 08:52 pmBleugh. Feel sick.
My green form has not helped. Pedar's filled it in for me because I'm scared of it. The last time I was afraid of being detained indefinitely in Philadelphia, and I really would prefer doing all my GCSEs again rather than fill the form in myself. Having proven I am not a Nazi, communist, junkie, or sufferer from all round-freakitude, they just might let me in the country without a strip search. I don't know why I'm so afraid of this bloody customs check. I've done it three times before, and survived. But stil. Gah.
I'm going to miss you, my real life friends and the fannish contingent, very much indeed. I realise that in terms of geography I will be closer to quite a few of you, but I'm going to miss you just the same. I'm leaving on Thursday, for the land of the free, the brave, the lack of irony and the raging paranoia. Generalising? Me?
Bleugh. Still feel sick. I need to go out and post a few letters. Maybe while I'm out there my head will stop feeling like it wants to strangle me.
My green form has not helped. Pedar's filled it in for me because I'm scared of it. The last time I was afraid of being detained indefinitely in Philadelphia, and I really would prefer doing all my GCSEs again rather than fill the form in myself. Having proven I am not a Nazi, communist, junkie, or sufferer from all round-freakitude, they just might let me in the country without a strip search. I don't know why I'm so afraid of this bloody customs check. I've done it three times before, and survived. But stil. Gah.
I'm going to miss you, my real life friends and the fannish contingent, very much indeed. I realise that in terms of geography I will be closer to quite a few of you, but I'm going to miss you just the same. I'm leaving on Thursday, for the land of the free, the brave, the lack of irony and the raging paranoia. Generalising? Me?
Bleugh. Still feel sick. I need to go out and post a few letters. Maybe while I'm out there my head will stop feeling like it wants to strangle me.