(no subject)

Remember that writing job I went for and didn't get? And after that the department was totally cleaned out except for the two new guys and the woman doing the interviewing? Got this in my email from her this morning.

Do you have the time in the next week to sit down and discuss some positions we're about to open? We have three new openings coming up and I think you'd be a great fit for some of them.

SERIOUSLY UNIVERSE?

It's okay though. The Research team works with this other team, so I'll still be involved, and I suspect the Research position pays more.

In all the mess of the last week, I neglected to mention that the proof copy of Trace arrived. I still have to read through it and mark corrections, but it's here, and surprisingly slim -- it's so dense I forget sometimes how short it is.

The photo sucks, and that white ding on the cover was totally the result of Lulu's massive overpackaging. It's lookin' pretty hot, still.

(no subject)

So, I've been watching The Hour, because midgetgems said she wasn't sure what it was about and I thought, that's the show for me!

I'm not really sure what it was supposed to be about either.

It does have Burn Gorman in it. He spends most of his time murdering people in the face and making constipated expressions, which is something of a waste of his considerable talent. Though I suppose sweating on cue is a skill.

It also has a young actor who could be Matt Smith's little brother, down to the crazy hair. He's well cast because his character is basically the Doctor without all the baggage: noisy, rude, sarcastic, truth-driven, and the catalyst for all the really interesting stuff that happens.

The problem is that while it's a wild ride of a show about spies and politics and censorship and the news, the people are essentially unlikeable and the denouement is deeply unsatisfying.

( Spoilers... )

I mean, it's fun watching the one guy jump around like a monkey on crack for six episodes, and there are a few brief monologues that are pretty genius, but otherwise basically you spend six hours watching people in fabulous clothing destroy themselves against a backdrop of repressive jingoistic censorship that doesn't ever get resolved. (How like life?)

On the other hand, as I observed to someone while watching it, being set in the fifties I was treated to the sight of a man dancing with a woman while holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

The men of my grandfather's generation certainly knew how to sin properly.