My Monday-Friday exercising/swimming routine has moved nicely since starting on 2.27. I wrote and edited from 9 am to 12:30 pm and then spent the afternoon working out and or swimming laps until around 3.
Three days ago, I played racquetball with a girl half my age and twisted my ankle. I’m stuck at my desk with my foot elevated until Monday, when I hope to resume my physical workouts.
Cripes. My first week in, I injured myself because I don’t like being old around younger people.
Been patronizing an author on Patreon whose series I enjoy, and their fanbase is appropriately youthful, which makes commenting a fucking minefield. Youth today do not want romantic or sexual perspectives that don’t match their worldview—nor do they know how to ignore adults speaking to each other in comments. The sheer act of seeing a two-person conversation warrants drive-by comments and knee-jerk reactions that would get them slapped in a real-life setting.
I said what I said.
Some friends and I did a rewatch of I, Claudius.
I first saw this show as a kid in 1978 when it made it to the states via PBS. I wasn’t ten yet, but it left a mark on me and gave me an everlasting love of Jon Hurt.
I felt for Julia, of course, as anyone would.
From a fandom perspective, seeing Patrick Stewart with hair, Sian Phillips as the queen of all queens, and John Rhys-Davies without hair and very buff – made the rewatch enjoyable despite the subject matter.
How Derek Jacobi didn’t become a superstar is beyond me—but maybe he was smart enough to avoid the US film business.
I will catch up on anime today and take a break from the computer.
Guns, Guys, & Yaoi 2.0 