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Reading: The Knowledge of Water. It's actually
by Sarah Smith, not Susan Smith, Susan Smith being
the woman who pushed her kids into a lake a few years back. I'm
pretty sure she hasn't taken up novel writing in the clink.
Watching: The X-Files. But God, how I wish I hadn't. Also watching: The Talented Mr. Ripley, the latest addition to my DVD collection. And may I just point out that I have only a total of five DVD's to my name, and I've had the player almost five months? I'm just saying, I'm showing a great amount of restraint in the DVD-purchasing department. Also also watching: The entire first season of Sports Night, mostly because Dora was telling me that she did that last weekend with her sister and I thought it sounded like a fine idea.
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Will somebody please knock me upside the head for not giving up The X-Files years ago, when it stopped being good and started being crap? Tonight was the season finale, and you will forgive me a little blathering, because you have to admit that I used to blather quite frequently about this show in the entries but I haven't done it all this season, mostly because, you know, it's been crap. First of all, Krycek is now dead. Skinner shot the hell out of him in the FBI parking lot (which is where an absurd number of people have died over the years, considering that it is the parking lot of the premiere law enforcement agency in the country) for being, you know, a bad guy, I guess. I knew he was going to die because I am a spoiler addict, but I thought he was going to be killed by the bad guys, not the good guys. And frankly, Krycek was the most interesting character on this show by leaps and bounds. So that pissed me off. But the final scene was the absolute kicker, the one that made me want to hurl myself off the balcony. The whole episode was about getting Scully somewhere safe so she could have the baby without the aliens coming to take it away because it's either the Second Coming or some kind of super-alien, and they're not really eager to have either one around. So Monica (a/k/a Joseph) takes Scully to this ghost town (a/k/a Bethlehem) in Northern Georgia, which they thought would be far, far away from all the spiky-necked aliens, but they showed up anyway in their Chevys and Volvos, presumably to destroy the baby. But guess what? The aliens didn't want it. Know why? Because it turns out to be a normal, everyday, human, non-Christlike, non-alien baby. Oh yes. It turns out to be Mulder's baby. What-the-fuck-ever. Never mind that this is completely antithetical to the way she's been acting all season, never mind that she consistently called it "my baby" even in Mulder's presence, never mind that we didn't get to see one single frame of their hot monkey lurve. NEVER MIND that Duchovny is not coming back at all next year, so the fact that the last shot we see is the two of them kissing with the relatively unremarkable baby wedged in between them makes no fucking sense whatsoever. (The baby is named William, by the way, "after your father," as Scully tells Mulder, NEVER MIND that it was her father's name too.) (And while we're on the subject, can I just say that I published a very short piece of fanfic on Gossamer last year under a pseudonym which guarantees me that none of you will ever find it, but in which I named the baby William as well?) And as if we weren't already unconscious from being beaten over the head with the Jesus business, the three Lone Gunmen show up with presents. I cannot believe that this is how I am to be repaid for being such a loyal (a/k/a brainwashed) viewer this season.
 I know I sound like a nutcase when I say this, but I think the ceiling fan in my bedroom gives me weird dreams. I don't know if it's the very slight rhythmic sound, or the flash of dull light that comes from the brass reflecting light from the street lamp outside the window, but every single time I sleep with the ceiling fan on, I have weird dreams. Last night, for example, was a Buffy/Sports Night crossover dream, in which Isaac was Buffy's watcher and Jeremy and Natalie were part of the Scooby gang. There was also some Harry Potter thrown in for good measure, which was this alternate universe that they had to travel to for one reason or another. I'm not sure what my role was -- if I too was part of the gang, or if this was just some strange show I was watching on television. I do know that I was dating Donal Logue, who is on Grounded for Life, which was probably because I was thinking about him yesterday. See, in addition to Saturday's Sports Night marathon, I also one or two first-season episodes of The West Wing, and there were commercials of the "Coming this Fall" variety for Ed, and Donal Logue was Phil Stubbs. And while I knew the pilot had been reworked for that show, I don't remember noticing that Phil was a different actor, and I was surprised that I hadn't noticed because I like Donal Logue and I would have been excited about him being on Ed. Anyway, I do think it is all because of the ceiling fan, so I'm turning it off tonight, because I will no doubt be going to sleep stewing about The X-Files and if I dream about it I will have to kill myself in the morning.
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