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Following jesshartley's example, I thought I'd post my Arisia schedule:

Friday 7-9: First Night, performing in the sneak preview of 'Red Shift', a very very very good SF radio serial in the grand Flash Gordon tradition of clenched jaws, perky Earthlings in strange situations, and wildly over-the-top villains (if I do say so myself).

Saturday: Um....TBD.

Sunday 1-whenever: 'Red Shift'! Part of an afternoon of live radio drama that's more fun than tickling squirrels.

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We don't stop talking about politics just because we have no chance of making it to Prime Minister. We are all politicians. We are all artists. In an open society everything the mind and hands can achieve is our birthright. It is up to us to claim it. --Stephen Fry


So I've been reading the library copy of this Stephen Fry book. I didn't even know what it was about when I checked it out; I just saw the author's name, saw it was in the 'how to write' portion of the shelves (low 800s, thank you Dewey Decimal system), and yoink. Didn't even look at it closely until I got home.

Turns out it's The Ode Less Travelled. It's all about how to write, of all things, sonnets. Mr. Fry, it seems, has some very strong feelings about iambic pentameter.

But much to my own surprise, I've been enjoying it. Part of it's just the occasional boggle that a screen actor would write a book like this, loaded with quotes from Nabokov and Auden. It's not a matter of intelligence; there's nothing surprising about learning an actor's bright. But erudite? That's something else entirely.

It also helps that with each exercise he provides examples he's written...or, as he puts it, once again I have had a pitiful go myself to give you an idea of what I mean. How can you not love someone who writes things like:

My Body
Three flobbing chins are bad, but worse, a bent
And foolish nose. Long legs, fat thighs, mad hair.

And here's where things get surprisingly good: just as I reached the second chapter, purpleprimate mentioned in her LJ that she had a galley proof of this book, and would anyone like it? For she is a total rock star. So soon I'll have a copy of my own to mark up, and soon after that I'll be posting some of the worst poetry you've ever seen in your lives. Woot.




P.S. Cryptic note to self: cheap disposable digital camera + hungry squirrels + bag of sunflower seeds. Friday. Do it.

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A slow, soulful 'Hey Ya' cover? That...works?

Ye gods.

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