slashweaver (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slashweaver) wrote2011-01-26 06:01 pm
slashweaver) wrote2011-01-26 06:01 pm
Entry tags:
dazed and confused
So... I have recently re-read The Mists of Avalon for the first time since I was a teenager - which is a long time ago now, which in itself may explain a great deal. But I have long cherished this distinct memory of - well, on that night when Arthur invited Lancelot into his and Guinevere's bed, for the sake of her conceiving - I have this really clear memory of either Arthur or Lancelot reaching past her to the other man... Just the touch of a hand. But it rocked my world. One of my formative slash experiences. And this time round, it didn't seem to even be there! Though there was the remembered edginess about the homosocial nature of what bound Arthur and his Companions so close...
Am I imagining that it was even there, or did I just manage to vague out at the wrong moment during my recent reading...? Argh! :-)
And of course I am totally traumatised at the moment, having spent 23 hours thinking that Harry Cunningham was dead. I mean, hurrah for Silent Witness always pushing pushing pushing. But even I was suprised at how bleak that made me feel.
And this just in. It's the end of an era. My old and formerly trusty sewing machine has finally f***ing snuffed it. Not quite as traumatic as the Harry thing, but it feels strange. Back in the day, my Mum and I used to make our own clothes and curtains and such. And I bought my own sewing machine with my very first pay cheque. (Looong time ago...) It was This Whole Big Thing about me and my own life. Well, I can't remember the last time I actually sewed a garment, but still - it came in plenty handy for mending and such. And now its bobbin has finally bobbed its last.
It's just one of those weeks, isn't it?
Though I suppose I am grateful, in a way, as they now make purple sewing machines. I mean to say. Purple.
Am I imagining that it was even there, or did I just manage to vague out at the wrong moment during my recent reading...? Argh! :-)
And of course I am totally traumatised at the moment, having spent 23 hours thinking that Harry Cunningham was dead. I mean, hurrah for Silent Witness always pushing pushing pushing. But even I was suprised at how bleak that made me feel.
And this just in. It's the end of an era. My old and formerly trusty sewing machine has finally f***ing snuffed it. Not quite as traumatic as the Harry thing, but it feels strange. Back in the day, my Mum and I used to make our own clothes and curtains and such. And I bought my own sewing machine with my very first pay cheque. (Looong time ago...) It was This Whole Big Thing about me and my own life. Well, I can't remember the last time I actually sewed a garment, but still - it came in plenty handy for mending and such. And now its bobbin has finally bobbed its last.
It's just one of those weeks, isn't it?
Though I suppose I am grateful, in a way, as they now make purple sewing machines. I mean to say. Purple.
no subject
A purple sewing machine sounds GREAT ÖÖ
no subject
Ah, purple, yes... I probably shan't miss my old sewing machine at all! :-D
no subject
I saw one pink! But, hey, I'm too lazy to have my own sewing machine oo