mood: artistic music: Miss T and the Japanese Tourists- Crawling

I need plotbunnies for Christmas specials! 

Am currently working on Adam Ant/Blackbeard (all grondfic fault) and Mickey Finn/Marc Bolan (needs a beta) and a festive Mickey/Marc (nothing spells CHRISTMAS JOY like hatesex between people who are now dead) one for a friend, but I want to make a big batch of shorter ones for Christmas. 

Hit me with anything; prompts, pairings, costumes, whatever. Ehm. As long as it's something I know something about because I don't really have time to research.

mood: surprised music: Japan- Adolescent Sex

I AM MADE OF SAD.

I just read what I thought was a hilarious comment on youtube and actually laughed out loud, before discovering that it was ONE OF MINE. 

I shall headdesk in penitence until my brains come out of my ears.

mood: aggravated music: Kevin Ayers & Mike Oldfield- Flying Start

 Holland was cool once, damnit!!!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3O53c6fm92Q&mode=related&search= (skip a bit to see Tyrannosaurus Rex) The audience is bloody awful, you could see the foundations of the horrible future already being laid.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=FlAEinZ7Zl0 






PS: fucking hippies.

Christmas party yesterday!
I looked rather Maxwell Demon-ish with turquoise and pale gold eye make-up and stars drawn at the sides of my eyes. The DJ played two T-Rex songs and a string of chinnichap songs for me after I shouted at him several times to play T-Rex. It went down well, mainly because my friends had fun laughing at me dancing stupidly and talking along to the spoken bits of Ballroom Blitz. Although I got to laugh at Sally because she knew the words to Tiger Feet better than I did. Fun fun fun!

Still depressed about computer, but my plight is lessened by the fact that I've found a way to make the uni computers play youtube vids and music. 

Also, York looks fucking gorgeous with Christmas decorations. There was a Christmas festival there today, and Viona and me took pictures of each other standing in the foam-snow. It makes me appreciate Marc Bolan's Frightening Foam performance more, since foam snow is awful and chokes you. I really ought to make a massive picspam post soon of me doing stupid crap in York.

mood: creative music: Lou Reed- Transformer

Oh, dear Adam Ant,

you must learn that art creates life, and so, while I have been able to mark the most important things about you and your life from your art, your life says hardly anything about your art.  And so all that lingers is a vague sense of disappointment that the things you did that were milestones in my life were footnotes in your own. 


In further news, have been reading Glam; Bowie, Bolan and the glitterrock revolution, which, though a little too 'musical journalist' style-wise, is highly quotable. It does an analysis of Marc's later TV performances oddly similar to my own. Also, am digging my way through Lipstick Traces (again). When I tried it the first time round at age 15 I just found it very awe-inspiring, but it seems quite simple now. Actually, it is quite addictive, and I'm proud of myself for noticing that it's where the main points of Velvet Goldmine came from- the storyline about the fan taking the place of the idol who betrayed himself- that they adopted after Bowie threw his hissyfit.

mood: curious music: T-Rex- Dandy in the Underworld

Edit: Adam Ant's press person says he really isn't doing it. Thank fuck, cos all the sly jokes people would make at me would have been too tedious to bear.



I had a dream Marc Bolan was a serial killer. He had a collection of heads he showed me. Ehm. I think he was going to kill me, too, but I escaped. That's what you get when you stray across T-Rex sites and biographies of serial killers in one night.

mood: ROTFLOL music: NO FLAMES ALOUD!

God, how I love bad fanfiction. Images of Senor Draco and mind-boogleing suspenense never fail to cheer.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Gentle baby dinosaur sex cum falling like sweet rain on Harry's upraised face, menacing penile forests of wizardry."

I really want to make that into a Tyrannosaurus Rex parody song. It reads like a particularly bad excerpt from The Warlock of Love.

Ehm, ik heb het hier gevonden: http://www.tweedehands-boeken.nl/  maar ik wacht met bestellen tot ik in Nederland ben, dus als iemand er een tegenkomt, graag. 
Hahaha het is geillustreerd. Door Herman Brood. Ik vraag me af waar de tekeningen van zijn; naakte David Sylvian????!! 
Ho, dat hoop ik.


En het is echt de dochter van Pipo de clown.

Incroyable! Une nouvelle vigette de Lucius!

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2852011/8/ 

" “In wallowing in the world of Sardanapalus, Byron was clearly trying to escape the tyranny of West Europe’s rigid and confining ideologies about the proper role and identity of men and women. Ironically, Byron carried those polarities so deeply within himself that even his fictional version of the Orient is polluted and become simply another microcosm of Regency England.” (Diana Long Hoeveler, Romantic Androgyny; The Women Within, Pennsylvania State University Press, London, 1990, p. 162) 

 
The insistence to project Byron’s own life into his plays here inverts what the play is actually saying. The logical conclusion about a play that combines a utopian set of ideals and projects it onto a version of the nation that would be the main audience is that it is a utopian play, which seeks to mirror the society it has been produced in. Whether or not the utopia is considered executable or not has nothing to do with the validity of the ideals it promotes. The presence of elements of English society in Sardanapalus does not mean they weren’t meant to be there, or, if accidental, that they are not part of the meaning of the play.  That Byron was bisexual and as such may have had some kind of wishful attitude about it does mean his idealism should be degraded into mere escapism."