So I just went to look for the office coffee-making thing. I found it, looked in it, and made a strangled noise that made the entire office stare at me. Someone, about three months ago, has apparently critical-failed their sanitary check. O_O

There's also a mug containing a mouldy tea bag. It's news to me that this is even possible. Yikes. *gets fairy liquid and draws circle of Protection from Nurglings with it, before going to wash up...*

Laters,
Rath

*IS TEN THOUSAND TIMES DED*

Oh my... I cannot articulate how much I love this, mostly because I am laughing too hard. But seriously, this has just given me an entire year's worth of joy in the space of five minutes.

Okay, everyone knows The Wind Beneath My Wings, right? Here's Michael Ball's version, which I happen to like, for reference (excuse the Xena, but this was the only version of it I could find on Youtube). Classic, slow, sentimental, much loved song you can play at weddings, funerals and your Dad's sixtieth birthday bash. You know the one.

Now, here are my beloved, beloved boys Sonata Arctica (YES, the Finnish metal band, for those of you sitting at the back) doing their version of this pop classic. I... am INCOHERENT, seriously. Oh, my BOYS. This is simultaneously utterly and soaringly gorgeous and the funniest thing I have heard ALL DECADE. ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

Dear power metal scene, and Sonata Arctica in particular, I love you very, very much. Please do not ever, ever change, and in particular please do not ever develop ANY sense of how you look to people whose senses of the ridiculous have developed beyond the embryonic. Please keep doing wonderful, ludicrous, utterly unselfconscious things like this for ever and ever, because the world could more easily spare a million scoffers than it could spare one band THIS AWESOME. ^_^

...I would totally dance to this if it ever got played in a club. And if they play it live next time I see them, I bet I cry. ^_^

Laters,
Rath

I have NEVER needed this icon more, I swear...

So I was round at the corner shop just down from the office, getting some drinks, and happened to check the biscuit rack. I discovered not only Garibaldi biscuits (which I haven't had in years!) but... Wagon Wheels!

Now, since Wagon Wheels are practically cultural heritage if you were ever a kid in the UK, I grabbed some just for old times' sake (and also planning to introduce lookingforsigns to the concept). They're still being plugged on the strength of being basically the biggest damn biscuit known to man, but as I happened to glance at the back of the packet I noticed that they've acquired a new (to me) marketing slogan which goes:

"You've got to grin to get it in!"

I... really, WHAT? I CANNOT be the only person who reads that and thinks things that have NOTHING to do with chocolate marshmallow biscuits. Can I?

In fact, I am so convinced of this, that I am throwing this benighted gimmick out as a fic prompt to the writers on my friendslist. Any fandom, any genre, any characters of your choice, but I invite you all to, er, rise to the challenge of writing something based around that sentence (and, optionally, a packet of Wagon Wheels)...

Bring it on!

Laters,
Rath

I have this horrible feeling I'm losing my memory. This is not fucking funny. Why do I keep losing the names of things? Stupid stuff, usually names of places (like Indigo's cafe the other day - that scared me) or albums or whatever. Not facts or concepts so much (though my ability to remember verbatim quotes is apparently also going) or things like "where did I leave my keys?" but... names. And forgetting names is scary.

Though apparently if I take two tries at it I can still list all the Eighteen Legions and Primarchs thereof, which made me feel fractionally better when I tried it as a mental test earlier. I can still get all the Traitor Legions on a single pass, perhaps unsurprisingly - it was the Loyalists who took me two attempts, and the ones I couldn't think of were the White Scars (who fall slightly under "who?" anyway) and the Ultramarines (D'OH!!!!)

Speaking of the Traitor Legions and also of things I can't remember properly, I wish I could recall more details of the dream I had last night that had a couple of the Thousand Sons and the Emperor's Children wandering around it. I do recall being pinned in a vicious armlock by something with tentacles that was sneering mockingly in my ear, and looking up to see tarnished blue and bronze filling my vision as this huge figure turned to focus its attention on me... brr. I should probably have been a lot more frightened but I was too busy being blown away by finding myself in the presence of an honest-to-gods Chaos Marine to even think of being scared, because, well, dude.

There were also zombies (which started out as just heads - apparently they grew bodies when they were raised) and some very bizarre plot involving someone trying to conquer the world and Unicronians turned human and looking completely lame, but the stuff with the two Traitors is the bit that's mentally stuck. For which I'm quite grateful as it was clearly the best bit.

So, yeah. Anyone know of any good ways to improve your memory? (Apart, of course, from going back to playing Kim's Game.)

Laters,
The Navigator

Can I get an OH MY FUCKING GODS from all the Lovecraft fans and giant tentaclefishoggoths on my flist, please?

Link, for clickyphobes, is to an article about an expedition to the buried, ice-covered, and geologically-shouldn't-be-there Gamburtsevs, the "ghost peaks" of Antarctica. Umm... yep.

Incidentally At The Mountains of Madness was written years before the Gamburtsevs were even discovered (in the fifties, for the record), for anyone who's counting. Hang on to your hats, believers. O_O

Laters,
Rath

So I was walking through town last night and spotted a double-decker bus with an advert on the side, as you see around English towns. My brain registered black, white, gold; sleek, hard, action-movie lines; a title, the face of the man at the bottom of the image. Thought process that followed went something like:

"Ooh, Bangkok Dangerous, must make sure I don't miss that... heh, I like that tagline.^[1] And ooh, Nic Cage is kinda hot in that shot - wait, what?"

*headdesk* Seriously, brain. I didn't even fancy Nic Cage when he was playing Johnny Blaze, for gods' sakes! Why now? What IS it about me and asdfghj long hair on guys?!

[1]A movie about a professional assassin with the tagline "It's all in the execution" is always going to have me on-side from the word go. Me and most of the voices in my head, for that matter. ^_^


*** Meanwhile, in other much more important news, I have a mysterious silver shiny in the post! And evidence suggests that this may be the fault of princess_kessie - thank you hon! *huggles* It's beautiful. ^_^ ***


And now, to work, wishing all the while that someone would come round, sweep me off my feet and take me out to lunch. I'm feeling a little worn down at the moment, not to mention hungry. Where's my handsome Prince of Darkness when I need one?

Laters,
The Navigator

I usually don't have much (any) time for Christian metal, but even I have to sit up at the idea of a Capuchin friar, aged 62, fronting a metal band.

This is fantastic. The guy's not even preaching from the stage, or at least he alleges not to be. He's just a former missionary and member of a holy order who caught heavy metal and decided he had to be part of it. There are no words for how much glee I feel at this - it certainly provides good evidence for my belief that if you have metal in your blood you will find your way to it, no matter how long or circuitous or downright bizarre the route. ^_^

And, this? The fact that I'm amazed to hear something so open-minded from a Christian is probably a damning reflection on Christianity's spokespeople in general, but:

"I never did it to preach, I did it because music is beautiful ... If I want to convert people, I simply want to convert them to life, to welcome life, to enjoy life ... I am religious and I am a priest but I am not doing this to convert people to Christ, to faith or the Church, but for them to try to understand life, to be able to enjoy it. Nothing more." - Friar Cesare Bonizzi

Yes. YES. Because what the hell else are you supposed to be doing up on that stage? Amen, brother!

Incredulously but frankly delightedly,
Rath

Are your enemies sneering at your setpiece superpowers? Are your evil plans getting you chased out of town every time swearing that you'd have got away with it if not for those damn kids? Are you so utterly losing your power to terrify, control and appal that even a bunch of dodgy internet types in V for Vendetta masks can raise the populace to laugh heartily at you?

Well... get some earplugs and then pay attention, because I think I've just found the ultimate weapon of mind destruction, courtesy of the video screens in Chili's and Koi doing five seconds' work on Youtube:

Ladies, gentlemen, strange androgynous things, and evil creatures one and all, I give you: The Power Of Seventies Disco Gone Horribly Wrong! (aka, the video for Sarah Brightman and Hot Gossip performing "I Lost My Heart to a Starship Trooper". I don't know which is harder to believe - that this exists, or that the singer was later mostly to be famous for being in Phantom of the Opera.)

And with that, goodnight, and I hope very much that all of you will be humming this and then hitting yourselves in the side of the head as much as I am for the rest of the week...

Laters,
Rath (with stylistic and compositional support from Dr Werner Wildstrom)

Saw Wanted last night. I have... absolutely no idea what I thought. It's completely insane. ^_^

I definitely enjoyed it, because it's slick and grimy and beautiful and filled with breathtaking stunts and gorgeous cars and highly charged gun and knife play and the kind of lush, hot, breathless over-visualisation that Bekmambetov does so well; but I'm damned if I can tell you whether it's a good movie or not. And also, the words "evil rug" are going to be a feature of my memetic vocabulary for WEEKS. >.>

Meanwhile, my PC at work has started making a noise like an ailing flying saucer about to crashland five miles away. Should I be worried?

...and as I started typing this post, someone outside the window started up a barrage of light electro/trance complete with symphonic bleepy effects on what sounds like a concert-size PA. It's obviously THAT sort of day today.

How is everyone?

Laters,
The Navigator

For the benefit of those who stood by me and of those who had to go to bed - I'm not dead. Hello people. *s* Thank you so much (lj)fluffymormegil, (lj)oml404 (hope you're feeling better mate!), (lj)lonescorpion raisedbymoogles, deepbluesquee, lookingforsigns and sternenstaub for all being there for me in one capacity and another.

So yeah, I got out of work at two thirty yesterday. That is, two thirty IN THE MORNING. It's quite bizarre, my IJ posts show off the descent of my brain quite neatly. First post is a simple "oh bugger, have to work late," unlocked. Second is a panicked plea for help, locked down to a few close friends. Third, completely private, is the draft of a very ill-advised email that I'm really glad I didn't send, from sometime around midnight. Oh dear.

This is your brain on copy-editing...

Laters,
Rath

Because Rath is stuck at work and going to be here for a looooong time. O_O

Ah, well. I have, lessee... Live/Insanejournals, email, A-ha, Goteki, Sneaky Bat Machine, Rosetta Stone, Alphaville, Psyclon 9, Elusive, all the tap water I can drink and a bakewell tart to keep me going. Plus a sofa to sleep on if things go really wrong. See you... later?

(Anyone who leaves me comments, porn, songs on youtube, or other nice things will, however, be much loved. Thank you.)

Love and argh,
Rath

(I do like the "busy" mood icon in this set. Cityscapes are great even in mini pixel form. I'm picturing Deathwatch working late in his Manhattan office now... actually, that's cool, he can come over here and keep me headcompany while I work too. *yoink*)

I just resisted buying a rare album I really, really want[1], even though it was the cheapest I'll probably ever see it. Because if I did, I wouldn't have enough money to get to the next paycheque and still be able to go to the Midsummer Fair. Which means that dammit, I AM going to the Fair now I've made such a horrible sacrifice to be able to do it. Who's going and which days?

And last night I dreamed I was wandering around Whitby with someone I actually fancy IRL (dear brain, that was the height of self-indulgence) and another person who I know I knew in the dream but can only remember now as a huge, hulking, sinister figure who I'd have been afraid of if they weren't an old friend. However, even my nice dreams manage to be disturbing, as witness the recurring motif of brown paper parcels with suspicious white powder in.

Oh, and then there was the bit where I and unknown-friend had to catch the demon cat-thing that was crawling into people's mouths and eating their insides. The part where I had to hold the ends of this furry aberration while my friend cut it in half was possibly the single most grotesque thing I've ever had to do even in my sleep. O_O

Meanwhile, the staircase outside my office smells as though someone has been raising undead cabbages from the grave. I don't think I'm eating at work today. *gag*

Laters,
The Navigator

[1] Five years ago, I could have picked it up for a tenner, and I didn't because (lj)oml404 had it. The moral of this is: no matter how much you love someone, always buy your own copy. *headdesk*

(Also, when an album you remember glancing over on the merchandise stall at the gig has become a hundred-pounds-a-copy collectable? You're old. :p )

...they say, "May you never EVER have more than two laptops between three people!"

So for the longest time, me and (lj)lonescorpion have been sharing my laptop because my old one that I tried to give him doesn't work any more. And about three weeks ago, I had to buy a new power cable for said laptop. I got a gorgeous multi-adaptor job with loads of different ends and English, Europe and US plug adaptors. With this gadget, me and my faithful old Toshiba box could have gone anywhere.

Meanwhile, (lj)koilungfish's old Mac laptop came into our collective paws when Koi got a new iMac. So briefly, for the first time ever, we had three laptops between me, Mikki and deepbluesquee.

And then 'Boots's laptop broke. Two again.

And now her dad has fixed it. Three again.

And now, on the very same day, my shiny new power adaptor is making noises like a cricket and has been declared unsafe by Mikki. Lo, I can't use my laptop until I've been to PC World and we're down to two machines between three again, for the umpteenth time. It's a curse. I swear it really is. So I'm posting this on the Koimac. (And if that explodes, Koi will skin me alive, so it better not.) O_O

Now I've completely forgotten what I was planning to post before this happened... help me out, guys. What should I post about?

Laters,
The Navigator

Things in the Triadhouse are getting wetter by the hour. It started this morning when Mikki and Koi were awoken by the sound of what appeared to be a sea monster taking up residence in the pipes. There's now a patch of soaking carpet just outside the kitchen where a pipe under the floor has apparently cracked, and we can't put the heating on because if we do, the noises get so bizarre and loud that nobody can actually pay attention for going "WTF?"

And so the plumber's coming to pull the floorboards up tomorrow. *facepalm* Frankly, I think this calls for a cat macro:



Many thanks to deepbluesquee for the macro! *glomp*

Meanwhile, I'm contemplating setting up some filters on this journal, like sternenstaub has on hers. Would people want to be on filters? They'd probably be Religion/Spirituality/Magic, Slash/Fandom/Meta, Headcast, and possibly also Rath Personal Stuff (ie the TMI, Angst and Venting type filter). Give me feedback, guys? Does anyone want to listen to me ramble?

Love (and wet feet),
Rath

You know those study guides, revision manuals, and whatnot (Letts Revise, Cliff Notes and what-all) that our mums and dads used to set so much store by when we were munching our way through our A levels and degrees? I just found out that in the publishing trade, the primary market for these sorts of volumes is ACTUALLY REFERRED TO AS "the parental anxiety market".

I would love to pass on this piece of information to every clever, overpressured, miserable kid still out there. And to their parents. :/

Laters,
Rath

Or, why the Navigator ♥s postmodernists. I'm sorry, but I just had to share. From the book I'm currently proofreading at work:

"It may seem dysfunctional to blow 1950s Poetics up the trouser leg of a marching digital scientism, but..."



Seriously. What. I hope that for the author this line was one of those moments of transgressive genius that make you giggle hysterically as you type them out, both racked with mental images yourself and gleefully imagining the brain-bending impact you're going to have on your readers. I hope he laughed until it hurt, because I certainly did. Silently. With my nose held. Ow, my diaphragm.

Anyway. Work. Yes. I just need to get rid of a mental image involving a uniformed Nazi, a set of bellows and what looks suspiciously like several members of the cast of Dad's Army and then I'm sure it'll all be FINE.

Laters,
The Navigator