BECAUSE OF LILY CHRYWENSTROM
5 episodes in, we’re hooked on Dexter.
There just aren’t enough serial killer romantic comedy-drama police procedural biopics, in my opinion…
FAR TOO LATE, SAYING YEAH, BUT! TO STEPHEN DEDMAN, A POST FOR THE PURPOSES OF...
Stephen Dedman is an extremely good friend of mine. But there are occasions, usually during conventions, and usually when we’re discussing television, when he is apt to cry out “Don’t you like anything?” in response to my dislike of shows that all about me are gushing over in admiration (Buffy, Angel, Babylon 5, whatever SF show is flavour of the month this Con… hey, I remember all those conversations about Dark Angel…).
Which always strikes me as odd, because I go home to my cabinet full of DVDs and my ongoing complaints that we watch too much TV, and the two things do not compute. Until this year’s Swancon, when it was made clear to me just how little I fit in with Perth fandom, and moreover, how little I was welcome.
So, in an effort to set Stephen’s mind at rest, and give him something else to feel exasperated at me about, a partial list of the TV I do enjoy, outside of the individual documentaries that make up most of my watching habit:
Battlestar Galactica v2
Life on Mars
Matt James’ Eco Edens
Mystery Science Theatre 3000
Original run Dr Who
Red Dwarf seasons 1-6
The Brak Show
The City Gardener
The Fairly Odd-Parents
The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy
The Venture Brothers
All of which proves... something, I'm sure...
A BOOK FROM BALL
One of the most exciting emails I can receive from a friend is one that says simply “What’s your snail mail address?”: Grant Watson sent me one in the middle of an argument about David Bowie, and introduced me to his late-career electronica work via a hand-made ‘best of’ CD; Paul Haines did the same while we were both grokking our love for Thomas Dolby, and sent me a DVDs-worth of Dolby albums, film clips, and ephemera (including my first taste of the glorious Richard Cheese); and a few days back, after reading our blogs, Clarionite, insane genius, and the author of the best unicorn porn story I’ve ever read, (picture me, on my hands and knees with two other guys in a cramped student living room, index fingers pointing outwards from our foreheads, discussing bone density and the relative physics of stabbing versus charging…) Peter Ball did the same.
Yesterday, with a postcard tucked into it explaining that, as far as Peter is concerned, random bookness is one of the best potential cures for depression, we received a copy of The Nimrod Flip-Out by Israeli author Etgar Keret.
And what do you know? He’s right. It's not the package, of course, but the thought behind it. But seriously, random packages (by which I don't mean male gymnasts, oo-er!), how cool can you get?
JULIET, JASONI, AND NICKY WHOSE NAME REALLY SHOULD BEGIN WITH A J TO MAKE THIS TITLE A LOT SNAPPIER
Such incisive and caring correspondences. Such heartfelt and involving glimpses into their own lives. Such trust, and companionship, and freely offer vows of friendship. Such reaffirming statements of respect and amity.