Sunday, October 17, 2004
Let me just say, I am getting old. You can only deny a thing like this so long. Eventually, it becomes obvious. Eventually, you acknowledge a thing like this and you do so with poise and dignity, or you wind up like Mick Jagger. I'm getting too old for shows that keep me out all damn night long. Me and Spooky both, and she's six years my junior. We didn't get to sleep until after four, after the Dresden Dolls show, and I woke up this morning feeling sort of dried out and trampled. It's a good thing I decided not to do the Icon of Coil show on Friday night. I'd probably be frelling dead right now. We warmed up Thai leftovers for breakfast, and I fried some eggs. The food, along with vast amounts of Gatorade, and I feel halfway decent again.
Anyway, yesterday I let responsibility get the better of me and stayed home and finished up the Bookslut interview. Spooky and Jennifer have better sense and went to the free Dresden Dolls show at Criminal Records. Spooky took many fine photos, some of which she'll be putting in her LJ. I'll tell you when she does. The three of us had dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant (hence the aforementioned leftovers), then Jenny stayed home while Spooky and I went to the show at the Echo Lounge. The first band, The Selmanaires, of whom I'd never heard, were absolutely fantastic. Think Devo crossed with the Buzzcocks crossed with The Cramps. And the drummer and guitar player were identical twins. A very nice surprise. Spooky was looking forward to the second band, Count Zero (who are touring with the Dolls), as the lead singer was formerly of Think Tree, of which she was very fond (the only band to ever use Iguanodon as a song title). Unfortunately, they were plagued by terrible sound problems. I got the impression they hadn't had a chance to fully sound check. That and the fact that the Echo just isn't set up for big bands with lots of gizmos. But I could tell they'd be awesome, under better circumstances. Amanda and Brian came on, hell, I don't know, well after midnight, and were, as always, brilliant. They played some new stuff, including a song called "The Shores of California," that proves they're only getting betterer. They did a frelling marvelous Bush-bashing cover of "War Pigs." The crowd was good, even if Spooky and I were the only ones dressed for the show. Everyone else seemed intent on defying the band's request that the audience get into the spirit of punk-rock/freak cabaret. Instead, the slackers stood about looking clueless in their Wal-Mart/Urban Outfitters chic. Well, yes, this is Atlanta.
But gods, I go to so few shows these days that I forget all the things about shows that annoy the dren out of me. For example, the inevitable Drunken Mousey Girl. There always seems to be one. Usually, she's pressed against the front of the stage. She's usually the kind of fan who scares performers. She usually has a drunken male accomplice. She's the sort of girl who leads a meek life, has no social skills, and the only way she can enjoy herself at a show is to get drunk as a skunk and act like a fool. Last night, we had the Queen Bitch of all Drunken Mousey Girls. At one point, I almost stabbed her to death with a discarded, broken drumstick I'd snagged from the edge of the stage. It probably would have earned me a round of applause. You'd have thought this girl was in the presence of Jesus or Allah or something, the way she carried on. She cried. She sang. She writhed. She strained to touch Amanda whenever she came near. She tearfully shouted, "Amanda, I looooovvvvveeee youuuuuuuu!" Christ. Don't people know this is creepy? Amanda looked genuinely terrified of the girl. Oh, and she chainsmoked, the Queen Bitch of Drunken Mousey Girls, which was the final straw.
Anyway...
Today is, of course, October 17th, the day that Farscape fans have awaited since the final episode of Season Four aired way back on March 21, 2003 (well, truthfully, we've been waiting for it since news of the cancellation was leaked by the series' creators on September 6, 2002). Today, the story moves forward. Tonight, at 9 p.m. EST (8 p.m. Central), the promise of the "to be continued" thingy at the close of the aptly named "Bad Timing" will finally be fulfilled. Aeryn and John, Chiana and D'argo, Rygel and Noranti, Pilot and Moya, Scorpius and Sikozu, Grayza and Braca, the Scarrans and Peacekeepers and Luxans...everyone will be back for the more we knew there had to be. Stories do not end with "to be continued," especially stories that need telling. It's the Prime Law of the Monomyth, a dictate of the collective psyhcocosm. I mean, what if you were reading the frelling Iliad, reached Part IV, and it ended with "to be continued," but Part V never came?
This morning I got an e-mail from(Meh'dra to us Nebari), which nicely summed up how I feel today:
So here we are, it's October the 17th, and Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars is today.? All of our efforts have come to fruition, and we stand at the precipice of what is Farscape's future.? I am, all at once, elated and nervous at the notion.
And I think, for those of us who worked and continue to work in the campaign to keep the show alive, in whatever form, the day really is something amazing. When we began, we faced a tide of naysayers, people, some of them Farscape fans themselves, who insisted we were naive and all our effort and time and fund-raising was a waste. The Sci-Fi Channel is an all-powerful monolith, they insisted. Fan loyalty is irrelevant. Only the Nielsen ratings matter. Too few people watch the show. It's too expensive to produce. And so on and so forth. But now, almost two years, one month, and eleven days after the campaign began, we know otherwise. There is no doubt that without our efforts the story would not be continuing. We did it. And tonight we get more.
One more time, the banner (click to see the trailer):
Spooky and I are going to spend the afternoon watching the last few episodes of Season Four on DVD, take a supper break at seven, then watch the "final" episode at eight, so I can move seamlessly into the mini.
Yeah, I know I'm a geek. I just don't give a dren.
Despite the wisdom of defeat, I bore my heart for all to see the wonders I had seen. -- VNV Nation, "Standing"
My name is John Crichton, an astronaut. Three years ago, I got shot through a wormhole. I'm in a distant part of the universe, aboard this living ship of escaped prisoners...my friends. I've made enemies. Powerful. Dangerous. Now all I want is to find a way home to warn Earth. Look upward and share the wonders I have seen. -- John Crichton, IASA astronaut, Farscape Project
Hell, yeah.
1:49 PM
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