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August 29th, 2005

Some Silly Puns

I was up until entirely too late last night, and then when I finally went to bed, I found myself staring at the ceiling for long stretches of time. I don't know what was the deal, my brain just wouldn't shut down. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, it was just a sort of neverending chatter, like having my brain's equivalent of CNN Headline News switching topics every eight minutes. Gradually, the fitful moments of sleep got longer and the long stretches of ceiling tiles got shorter, until suddenly the radio was nattering in my ear and it was morning.

I feel okay this morning, not dead-eye tired as might be expected, but strangely vapid ... it's sorta like that chattery part of my brain that comes up with Fictionlets and would have all sorts of commentary on watching Full Metal Alchemist and finishing The Bard's Tale (which both happened this weekend) just isn't connected. Or is only partially connected. It was connected enough to write this post about how unconnected it is, anyway.

We'll see how the day goes on; either my brain will engage, I'll start falling asleep at my desk, or I'll just keep floating on a cloud of vagueness, I suppose.

I think some bottled frappuccino is in order, in any case!

-The Gneech

PS: Strictly speaking, my bedroom ceiling doesn't have tiles, just plaster. But you get the idea.
Before I forget: happy belated birthdays to mooncat and dilletante!

After I forget: I followed the link provided to trenn to the flash-animated version of the "lost" Dr. Who episode Shada, and ended up listening to the audio-only version since I can't really watch any longish things at work. It was quite good, actually, a nice solid Dr. Who adventure, with Lalla Ward and John Leeson (Romana and K-9, respectively) reprising their roles from the original, and Paul McGann returning as the 8th Doctor. (It also has Sean Biggerstaff, who played Oliver Wood in the first two Harry Potter movies and star of his very own LJ icon, as ... appropriately enough ... a college student.)

And yes, there are terribly huge amounts of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency in it. Not in the plot, that's completely different, but in bits of business and in particular in the whole Cambridge/Professor Chronotis thing.

So ... thanks, trenn!

-The Gneech

A Bit of Literary Champagne

The part which old George had written for the chump Cyril took up about two pages of typescript; but it might have been Hamlet, the way that poor, misguided pinhead worked himself to the bone over it. I suppose, if I heard him his lines once, I did it a dozen times in the first couple of days. He seemed to think that my only feeling about the whole affair was one of enthusiastic admiration, and that he could rely on my support and sympathy. What with trying to imagine how Aunt Agatha was going to take this thing, and being woken up out of the dreamless in the small hours every other night to give my opinion of some new bit of business which Cyril had invented, I became more or less the good old shadow. And all the time Jeeves remained pretty cold and distant about the purple socks. It's this sort of thing that ages a chappie, don't you know, and makes his youthful joie-de-vivre go a bit groggy at the knees.
--P.G. Wodehouse, The Inimitable Jeeves

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