![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
green bleed
10/11/21 23:29I have no business writing any more fic until after the holidays, but I still have a half-dozen books on UK life between 1880 and 1930 on loan from the Nashville and Vanderbilt libraries, and they of course are rabbit-hole-infested grimoires that have me looking up how wonderful Sybil Thorndike and Lewis Casson were -- he because he apparently loved being left to himself at country house parties to repair tablefuls of broken things, and she because (per Wikipedia) she "staunchly championed" co-stars fined for being gay (i.e., Gielgud) and striking workers, and the Nazis hated her. This is a nice counter to my wanting to punch Edward VII every single time he's mentioned.
Anyhow, if I were to write anything it ought to be one of the twenty Yuletide treats whose plot bunnies have been bouncing around in the warren I call my mind, but what has been thumping the loudest are two continuations of The Spectred Isle, which isn't even a Yuletide fandom and has an average readership of around twenty when there is smut, and less than that when there isn't, and of course these particular bunnies are resolutely friendshippy metatastically gen. Goddammit, brain.
That said, it's the right time of year for immersing oneself in greenery, and letting ghosts have more say amongst leaves and veils and shadowed corners than one might usually allow or heed, and playing Vaughan Williams's Pilgrim's Progress with the volume turned up to an unseemly level. So there's that.
(On a more mundane level, I am pretty much done with humanity at least three times a day these days, so I suspect Green Men has my attention is partly because one of the lead characters is a hardworking aristocrat who says things like "I was trying to express human feelings as requested. Christ, you're fussy" and "I abominate whining in the face of facts. People who stand there moaning, Oh, this is impossible, it can't be happening, ignoring whatever horror is hurtling toward them because they'd rather not know. So tiresome" (to which his companion replies, "You told me you were unsympathetic. I didn't know the half of it. Good lord, man"). Lord love you, Randolph Glyde. Last week my partner answered something I said with, "Do not reply to my absurdities with logic!" which I found both funny as hell and very much on brand (in terms of the "oh for the love of God could you dial back the left brain already" reaction I net on a regular basis).)
Anyhow, if I were to write anything it ought to be one of the twenty Yuletide treats whose plot bunnies have been bouncing around in the warren I call my mind, but what has been thumping the loudest are two continuations of The Spectred Isle, which isn't even a Yuletide fandom and has an average readership of around twenty when there is smut, and less than that when there isn't, and of course these particular bunnies are resolutely friendshippy metatastically gen. Goddammit, brain.
That said, it's the right time of year for immersing oneself in greenery, and letting ghosts have more say amongst leaves and veils and shadowed corners than one might usually allow or heed, and playing Vaughan Williams's Pilgrim's Progress with the volume turned up to an unseemly level. So there's that.
(On a more mundane level, I am pretty much done with humanity at least three times a day these days, so I suspect Green Men has my attention is partly because one of the lead characters is a hardworking aristocrat who says things like "I was trying to express human feelings as requested. Christ, you're fussy" and "I abominate whining in the face of facts. People who stand there moaning, Oh, this is impossible, it can't be happening, ignoring whatever horror is hurtling toward them because they'd rather not know. So tiresome" (to which his companion replies, "You told me you were unsympathetic. I didn't know the half of it. Good lord, man"). Lord love you, Randolph Glyde. Last week my partner answered something I said with, "Do not reply to my absurdities with logic!" which I found both funny as hell and very much on brand (in terms of the "oh for the love of God could you dial back the left brain already" reaction I net on a regular basis).)
Tags: