Because I obviously don't have enough to do and too much free time, I have decided to move my weekly grammar column to Suite 101. I'll post a notice when a new column is up and running, just in case you'd like to follow me and read the latest rehash of the grammar you learned in school and have forgotten. The idea is to attract a wider audience and maybe make a little money on the side.
As for things here in Casa Cornwell, it has been quiet this weekend, except for the voices in my head. It's okay. I'm not schizophrenic or about to go postal and I don't get radio stations in my fillings; characters are invading my dreams and my mind when I'm working and that makes for very erratic sleep, and a cranky fixnwrtr.
I had the chance to read
Since I received a notice about a Halloween themed anthology and contest,
The dishes are all clean, except for the ones that held my dinner and the laundry is about to be caught up and put away. It will be strange not living with dishes piled in the sink and the basket overflowing with laundry. I guess that means the next thing on the list is getting rid of boxes and vacuuming. It could be worse. I don't know how, but I'm sure it could be.
Beanie, I'm finally caught up with Fringe and now I want more. It's not fair that I have to wait a whole week for an episode when I've had three or six or even twelve episodes to watch whenever I wanted. Oh, well, back in the real world.
Beanie kept telling me that I'd like Fringe, but I said I didn't have the time and didn't want to add another show to my very short list of seasonal shows. I finally broke down and ordered season one from Netflix and watched the first episode. I was immediately hooked. It wasn't just the science aspect of the show, a much more modern and less alien infested version of X-Files, which I thoroughly enjoyed watching, but the characters, especially Dr. Walter Bishop, played by John Noble. Walter has been institutionalized for 17 years because he had a mental breakdown after his assistant was killed in a laboratory accident and Walter's a bit weird. He's a mixture of genius, childlike curiosity and innocence with a hint of regret and confusion. Walter's frank delight over the possibility of bodies to examine is infectious and is mind, which works on an oblique circuit to the rest of humanity, is fascinating.
Walter's son Peter is a con-man and nearly as brilliant as his father, but has lots of shady ties to the underworld that he doesn't hesitate to offer whenever FBI agent Olivia Dunham needs something tracked down. Peter always knows "a guy" that can help. The cast is wonderful and the shows brilliant in their diversity. They are mining completely new territory in the fringe sciences and hitting pay dirt every week. I don't think Fringe will end up as lame as Heroes did when I quit watching it.
The rest of my list includes Merlin, Dexter, Castle and Sanctuary, although I'm still waiting for the new Doctor Who and Lost to surface. I've given up on finding anything new for Torchwood. I think it's pretty much done and over. The promised several movies turned out to be just one and nothing new is slated now that Jack has beamed up to his ship and out into the Universe to become the Face of Bo.
I guess that's it for now. The voices in my head are clamoring for attention and I have a short story to write tonight before I can sleep without intruders.
That is all. Disperse.