| Poem for Thursday |
[Dec. 18th, 2003|11:17 am] |
( Tenderness )
I am having a very strange reaction to That Movie: I am finding that I don't want to talk about it. To some extent, this is true even with my good friends, but it's overwhelming with my Friends list -- that is to say, with people I know first and foremost through this fandom, where the fannish interests were the initial glue that stuck us together and where I can't quite escape the fear that whatever relationship we may form will come undone if our interests move on. Some days I even feel like my best fannish friend at the moment is only in that role because she's too busy in RL to deal with other potential friends, and when she has more time, I will ironically hear much less from her.
I had thought I would mostly want to avoid rants, nitpicks and complaints...but I'm even finding that I don't want to know what people loved and adored and thought was brilliant in ROTK. I'm not done internalizing my own experience; I don't want the opinions of hundreds of others, good or bad, influencing me, and I definitely don't want to be lectured by people who love the books about why I am shallow, pathetic or otherwise unworthy if I love the films more, or at the very least, if the films have given me an entirely new way of looking at the books which have turned the books into something else entirely for me. Perhaps it is a failure of my own imagination that I did not have a fully realized world in my head when I first read Tolkien, but I have had fully realized worlds when reading other people's novels; in this case, it was the vision of a group of filmmakers that was necessary for it to come to life for me. And if that's too shallow, pathetic or otherwise unworthy for you, fine. You know how to take me off your Flist.
( Just more fannish babbling. )
Oh, am having one of those What's Real And What's Illusion mornings. Was bitched at by someone who said that people should not say YMMV and IMHO and things because men don't dilute their opinions and women shouldn't either. Which I find a ridiculous generalization, but even if it's true, why in fuck must I assume that the male model is better and follow it? God, niceness is underrated, and I have never even thought of myself as a nice person.
So some pimping: ![[info]](http://piktures.deadjournal.com/userinfo.gif) heathcee's Araboro schmoop, astolat's Five Things That Never Happened To Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin Three: All The Wonder, and jommy's Faramir hamster and Boromir gerbil...and Faramir not-hamster and Boromir not-gerbil!
And to make me smile before I go fold laundry and finish addressing holiday cards, very belatedly (probably while watching Gladiator, because my Russell Crowe itch continues undiminished, and the advantage of being a pack rat and saving everything is that when I find out that Crowe was on the cover of the May 2000 issue of the now-defunct Talk magazine, it's still sitting in the magazine rack in the basement):
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