January is Upon Us!

And with it, the general blank dreariness of winter... In this part of the world, anyways. It's time to listen to "Waiting for the 7:18" by Bloc Party, and drink cocoa. Until I deserve some cocoa, I sit here beside my new cat themed engagement calendar and peruse the internet shops. Or at least, the one I generally use. And there I find a vague want of many things, but not a burning need for anything. Just like wanting to eat, but not being able to think what--an insatiable hunger, notable for its lack of definition. Look up at my stack of books to read, and none of them particularly stick out. I want to read them all--there is no specific yearning for any one of them. Only tiredness, and a general feeling of helplessness for being able to look at the shops and food and my books and feel a sort of prohibition. Like I can look at them but I can't actually read them, that gifts are fleeting, and that eating will not solve anything--for just now or even longer, I know not.

That is bloody dreary. It's this background, I bet. Maybe these boss fruit snacks will cheer me up! Who wants a cheerful picture?!

We hope you had a pleasant Christmas and wish you a beardfully plenty New Year!

Three Bedrooms in Manhattan

I would like to briefly raise the tone of this blog by giving some attention to my current book, Three Bedrooms in Manhattan by Georges Simenon. The reader of this blog knows Mr. Simenon from his Maigret stories--short novels that we all (well, both) used to enjoy sometimes before Harvest stopped publishing them and Penguin took over, raising the price and the likelihood of Maigret's pages going Poof! and falling to dust in your hands. Having been a Maigret fan, I bought Three Bedrooms in Manhattan one day a year or two ago. I finally got round to starting it a couple of weeks ago. Although I am not finished yet, I must say that it is an excellent read thus far. The sex is there, of course because this is Georges Simenon, but it's a background element. The most important part of it is the author's portrayl of emotions, and the connection between the characters whether it is the emotional or the physical.

Georges Simenon: French Novellist, Sex Machine, and Man with Pipe Appeal.

(I said the tone would only be raised briefly, didn't I?)

Do you have PA?

SMUT!

Today's smut is corn smut and plant smut. I'm sure it has a practical and serious meaning, but bear with me for a moment. I have read far too much structuralism and linguistics in the last two days and I'm this close to pulling out my hair. But Claude Levi-Strauss was talking about corn smut! And the first thing I thought of was (and this especially for the creator of our sister blog) medieval sort of people somehow sticking pieces of uncooked corn to paper, gluing them in the shape of dirty pictures. It would be like those people running around Guild Wars during the Halloween festivities, but only regular corn and not candy corn. And in pornographic poses.

Too much structure and the world goes mad. Ha ha ha...

Misplaced Romance Novel Cover Alert

Today I am speaking about Tom Hollander, a man from Gosford Park, Pirates of the Carribean, Pride and Prejudice, Masterpiece Theatre concerning early 20th century British kings, etc., and apparently two episodes of Absolutely Fabulous called The Last Shout, Parts 1 and 2. These episodes are over ten years old. However! If anyone would like to see a potential male figure on the front of a romance novel, you will go to YouTube and search for Absolutely Fabulous The Last Shout--especially after he takes his shirt off. His character's name is Paolo, and he gets engaged to Saffy. He also plays kind of a jerk, just like in Pirates of the Caribbean. That is beside the point though. In the 90s, this man had the kind of hair that would kick Fabio into a gutter. He may be a bit on the shorter side and has a lot less hair now judging by the most recent movie I saw him in, but in the 90s (or at least this episode of AbFab) this man's hair alone would have put him in line for a Harlequin photo shoot. Generally speaking, he's handsome enough, and looks rather good in a hat but they always seem to stand him next to people who are over six feet tall, which makes him seem kind of short. But he's around 5'5 apparently so not actually that short.

But the next time you need a man looking windblown without his shirt on--look at The Last Shout!

Stephen Fry

Stephen Fry, who is a terribly clever, amusing man... might leave Twitter?! Or... might have done on Saturday until he forgave the fellow who called him boring. Does the BBC really need to write emergency articles about Stephen Fry potentially leaving Twitter? It's Twitter, for feck's sake. He's not going to stop writing books or start acting like a cretin or something. Oh, the busybodying of the press. How far back it must go.

Then again...

Just look at what American TV will do to you.

(P.S. All in good fun--I adore both Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie.)

So, I Walked Into November...

Said the Ugly Pumpkin. It's November!

It's moving! That is to say time, not Big Ben. That would be a big clock roaming London, which would be... a bit weirder. I guess?