Richard Brook

SHERLOCK TODAY!

That is all.


No, that is not all. Actually. I wish to complain about New Year's. It's horrible. It woke me up and then wouldn't let me go back to sleep for all the banging and shouting going on outside. Woo! We made it another year without being eaten by a tiger! Oh, fuck off and go back to bed, the lot of you.

I also find it hilarious how the eve is not a bank holiday, but the day is. Because someone out there realises that most of the workforce is going to be hungover to all hell today, I suppose.


Uhm. I'll have a pattern for the Watson scarf up in about a day or two. I'd already written it up last night, and then my computer did that glorious thing where it restarted before I could save. Fucker. So I'll write it up again, I guess.

Also, my sliced-off finger is feeling much better. I can never tell if it's a high pain threshold or a quick healing thing, but either way, it doesn't even bug me anymore. There is a massive bit still missing though. It's a good thing I'm not really doing table magic anymore, because it is so very not attractive. But really, that it doesn't bug me anymore, after just what? a week? just goes to show how much that horrible dentist fucked up my mouth in June that IT still bugs me from time to time.


BUT SHERLOCK TODAY! I haven't been this excited for something since I was squeeing about Doctor Who a few months ago. :DDDDDDD

I think I've finally worked out how to fix this. As in, I've got some notes down that contain a fair amount of the original story elements, though not really in the original order. I still don't actually know where it's going though.

The best thing to do at this point is to sleep on it, I think. I've written more in less time; I think I can get this thing back to finished by 5pm PST on the 22d.


fehhh on all of this.


In other news, Bill will be in town for Christmas. We're going to try to get together and maybe go out for drinks and go attempt to watch the Sherlock Holmes sequel. Because I am, apparently, a glutton for punishment.

Worst flight ever. Scariest landing ever. I swear we came in sideways. The flight attendants spent the entire thing just chatting with the people in first class and not actually doing any flight attending. And I'm pretty sure the aeroplane was one decent sneeze away from breaking apart.

Apparently the airline contracted MJN for this flight. x_x

I have three pairs of glasses around here. How is it that I can only ever manage to find one of them? Where the hell do they go? Do I eat them in my sleep?

The pair I was able to find today are the overly-stylish, not terribly comfortable ones. But at least I can see.

Well. I've just had a fairly terrible morning. Not the worst, but definitely not the best.

It started off around 4:30 this morning, mere hours after I'd gone to bed, and during which time I got maybe a half hour of sleep. I cannot seem to sleep in my room any more. Something about it seriously bothers me. Curious.

Anyway, I 'woke up,' or rather gave up on sleeping to an IM waiting for me, voicing Ryan's intent for sex when he got home. Which, no. Sorry. When I've been up this long, the last thing I want to do is put anyone's penis anywhere near me. That put me in rather a nasty mood for a bit, but thankfully, he passed out soon as he sat down on the sofa, leaving me to watch Merrie Melodies, which I didn't even realise they still played. So, that brightened up my day a bit as I watched Wile E Coyote exchange witticisms with Bugs Bunny while working on my ridiculous drawing.

Eventually, Ryan woke up, and we wrestled with trying to get the computers to talk to one another so we could watch a few episodes of QI. They refused to acknowledge one another's existence, so I wound up having to do it the hard way and throw everything onto the external drive. Annoying, but whatever.

Somehow, something Rob Brydon said (he may have been talking about goulash) had prompted Ryan to ask me when the last time I'd eaten was. Which was the breakfast I'd made for him at 4:00 yesterday. He gave me the look that says that I need to eat something before I go to bed. Since we have nothing in the house, that meant that I had to go to the shop before going to bed (damnit, I forgot the corn).

As I've mentioned previously, there's loads of work going on in my building, and they've finally gotten round to fixing the corridor between my flat and the lift. Which means that it's blocked off. So, I have to go clear round the long way to get there, unless I want to take the stairs and destroy my knee. I went the long way round. Went to the shop, got some stuff for goulash (except for the corn) and what I thought was a chicken sandwich. What I actually got was a tuna sandwich, only it's so dry that I'm certain it was mislabelled, and actually meant to be a tuna fossil sandwich. I tossed it back into my bag, with the intent of fixing it when I got home, and went on my merry way.

And then I got stuck in the lift. It was only about ten minutes, but stuck in a steel box dangling an unknown height from what's certain to be very old cables feels like much longer than it actually is, no matter how long you're stuck in it.

I'm home now, with a Coke and a tuna sandwich that's now marginally suitable for human consumption, after being slathered with Miracle whip and bits of pickle.


But then, I sat down and found this in my email, which made me feel a bit better, and could not have been more well-timed.

I was just standing outside, looking at the stars, as one does when it's dark and there's nothing else to do. Out of my peripheral, I spotted my annoyingly chatty neighbour. Well, ex-neighbour. He was evicted a few months ago, but he still hangs around for some reason. Not terribly sure that he's allowed to, but this building is kind of a bit... iffy.

Soon as I saw him, I ducked back inside and locked the door, having no desire to be hugged by someone who reeks of marijuana, or be talked to in circles for the next 40 minutes. I don't care what he does for a living. I don't care that his lady left him. I don't care about him. He annoys me and scares me. Also, he reeks of marijuana. I think I said that already, but that's reason enough to wish to avoid close contact with him.

He saw me. I know he did, because he's knocking at my door. And won't go away. I'd call the cops again, but he always manages to fuck off before they get here. So now I'm just ignoring him yelling through my door at not-even-six-in-the-morning.

GO AWAY, EX-NEIGHBOUR PERSON. I DO NOT LIKE YOU.

It's because I just bit into some positively pink and gooey chicken. Well, I say bit into. There was swallowing as well, because I was too busy reading my email and carrying on a conversation to pay attention to what I was eating. The other two are swearing up and down that the chicken was pre-cooked. My money's on me winding up in hospital with Salmonella. Or is it E. Coli that you get from uncooked chicken?

Either way, I'll probably wind up with something. This is why I shouldn't eat when I'm not hungry. I pay less attention. Not eating at all today was definitely the safer option. Ah, well. I guess I am a bit overdue for incompetent hospital staff sticking needles in my arms for a few days.

Anyone want to place any bets? Which will kill off Zed by next week?


They've brought the chicken back, supposedly re-cooked. I'm having a second go at it, because it has been over a day since I've eaten anything, and I really should.

Why is every light in the house on? I do not remember turning on the light in the hall. Or maybe I did, and now that the sun's up, I just noticed how utterly pointless it being on actually is.

While I was waiting for Ryan to drag himself home, I went out to Starbucks and got a coffee. I am not wired. Can't sleep. Not a chance in hell of that happening. We're supposed to meet Joe tonight. I'm going to be miserable. Providing I don't pass out shortly before we're set to leave. I might do that anyway, just to get out of going. I hate going over there. After being broken up for over two years (a failed experiment in more ways than one; I'll elaborate on that at a later date. Maybe), he still tells me that he loves me. How creepy and sad is that?

I think I'll just work on my bored!Holmes drawing until passing out happens.

Got an IM from someone I've spoken with before, and even met in person.

He asked how I was doing; I said fine, just getting ready for lunch. Then he made a comment about a five-hour time difference. I was a bit confused at this, since I thought he was in Vegas.

Turns out he's in South Carolina. He thought I was in England.


Both perfectly reasonable mistakes, given that when I met him, it was in Vegas, and I'm contemplating lunch at 3am.

UPS says my tablet is in Vegas. And that it will be delivered by the end of the day.

I'm not sure what 'end of the day' means, though. 5pm? Dusk? Midnight? Midnight at the international date line?

UPS, this is not a very helpful way of measuring time. Especially when some of us are flaky at best at maintaining a sleep schedule, and go to sleep when the mood strikes. Clearly, as I am writing this at four in the morning, the odds are in favour of me going to bed sometime around the middle of the day. By which I mean midday, noon, 12pm, Pacific Standard Time, North America, Earth, Solar System, Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha, Western Spiral Arm, Milky Way Galaxy.

Just in case UPS operates on an intergalactic scale. Which they very well may, given how vague their ETA for my tablet is.