Tuesday - the Night of Nights
Dec. 21st, 2004 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringHad lunch - a torpedo roll with some cold lamb, mustard and assorted lettuce - watching ep 2 of season 2 of the West Wing. An awesomely great episode. Jed starts off by asking twice over "which one is Josh" and apologising for missing a live to air broadcast, and ends by deliberately missing another one so that he can say goodbye to Josh. It also includes Donna bluffing her way into working for Josh. And Sam walking out of his law firm when Josh gives him the high sign, soaking wet after forgetting the name of the top notch law firm. And CJ walking into the pool. And Danny asking some awkward questions.
It's all good. Classic. And the whole thing is linked backwards and forwards - there's a line in the Wiffenpoof episode two seasons down the track where Toby is reluctant to meet with his father and Josh says he'd give anything to have a living father. I hug myself with glee when watching.
Which is why, when I opened up the TV guide on Monday and looked with joyful expectation towards the late night slot on Channel Nine, my heart turned into a lump of ice when I saw it was taken by something else. Oh no. Two episodes in after an unbelievable drought and they pull this show? Get out the sledgehammer, I'm gunna demolish those bastards brick by fucken brick.
But I checked the rest of the week on my way out the door and they'd moved it to the old timeslot on Tuesdays. So Tuesday is the night for me. There's The Bill at 8:30, which frankly jumped the shark a long time back but I'll keep watching it out of morbid curiosity to see what more they can do to a once classic drama. And then there's West Wing an hour later, which makes up for everything.
Bookcrossing serendipity at work. Jenny-G gave me the first book she ever registered - three Michael Connelly thrillers in one volume - at the Sydney convention. She knows I like Connelly, she saved this one for me, and I've only read one of the three novels. Blood Work, which I enjoyed immensely for its tense, taut and emotional plot, though it got a bit unbelievable towards the end. Such a sweet woman.
Make that two novels. I was up about two this morning reading the ending to The Poet. Another great read.
And the serendipity bit is that reading these tightly plotted novels forced me to accept that nothing but major surgery is going to save Manly Books. I knew it in my heart of hearts, but couldn't think of any way of doing it gracefully. Well, I'm not sure I can do it with any degree of grace, but I can re-use the plot and treat it with the respect it deserves. Most of it can now be written in the third person, and I can show a lot of those bits that I had to tell the reader about before. A late night philosophy session with Pappa. The trivia night. Lots of other stuff that was really too wordy to go in the blog of any but the most obsessive blogger. And I can put in a side track about the stalker, who is an interesting character in his own right and got sadly short-changed in the original format.
I can do it in a month. Let's face it, half the work is already done.
I might keep Ann for further adventures. I suspect she's going to New Zealand at Easter. The next book starts with a wedding. Maybe a honeynoon trip to a Bookcrossing convention. Heh.
It's all good. Classic. And the whole thing is linked backwards and forwards - there's a line in the Wiffenpoof episode two seasons down the track where Toby is reluctant to meet with his father and Josh says he'd give anything to have a living father. I hug myself with glee when watching.
Which is why, when I opened up the TV guide on Monday and looked with joyful expectation towards the late night slot on Channel Nine, my heart turned into a lump of ice when I saw it was taken by something else. Oh no. Two episodes in after an unbelievable drought and they pull this show? Get out the sledgehammer, I'm gunna demolish those bastards brick by fucken brick.
But I checked the rest of the week on my way out the door and they'd moved it to the old timeslot on Tuesdays. So Tuesday is the night for me. There's The Bill at 8:30, which frankly jumped the shark a long time back but I'll keep watching it out of morbid curiosity to see what more they can do to a once classic drama. And then there's West Wing an hour later, which makes up for everything.
Bookcrossing serendipity at work. Jenny-G gave me the first book she ever registered - three Michael Connelly thrillers in one volume - at the Sydney convention. She knows I like Connelly, she saved this one for me, and I've only read one of the three novels. Blood Work, which I enjoyed immensely for its tense, taut and emotional plot, though it got a bit unbelievable towards the end. Such a sweet woman.
Make that two novels. I was up about two this morning reading the ending to The Poet. Another great read.
And the serendipity bit is that reading these tightly plotted novels forced me to accept that nothing but major surgery is going to save Manly Books. I knew it in my heart of hearts, but couldn't think of any way of doing it gracefully. Well, I'm not sure I can do it with any degree of grace, but I can re-use the plot and treat it with the respect it deserves. Most of it can now be written in the third person, and I can show a lot of those bits that I had to tell the reader about before. A late night philosophy session with Pappa. The trivia night. Lots of other stuff that was really too wordy to go in the blog of any but the most obsessive blogger. And I can put in a side track about the stalker, who is an interesting character in his own right and got sadly short-changed in the original format.
I can do it in a month. Let's face it, half the work is already done.
I might keep Ann for further adventures. I suspect she's going to New Zealand at Easter. The next book starts with a wedding. Maybe a honeynoon trip to a Bookcrossing convention. Heh.
