I thought I had saved this fic, apparently I hadn't. As usual, it seems. (This is what I get for reading so many old fics all at once and not thinking of bookmarking the good ones until I was a good way through.)
Anyway, I'm looking for a fic where the team go out to investigate an area somewhere in the countryside where there had been nothing, and then suddenly there was a henge type thing that appeared out of nowhere. When they get there, Jack (and Gwen or Tosh?) touch the stone, and get psychically affected by it. They desperately want to go and touch it again and stand in it. Ianto and Owen manage to hold them back at first, but Jack breaks away from Ianto at the last second and runs back to it. He's taken to a different planet, where they seem to be taking people to work as like serfs of some kind. At first he runs from his captors but they manage to hit him and then shackle him. He's put to work but everyone is quite friendly and a few speak Welsh or English. The team I think do some research, then Ianto goes to rescue Jack. It turns out that he has to take off all his clothes and be washed in order to return, because there's something on him that means if he goes through the portal with his clothes on, he won't be able to go back through, like a nude Persephone. They successfully get out of the portal and back to Earth, and Jack is rather cheerful about walking around naked once he's been rescued.
I must've gotten Mara Wilson's memoir Where Am I Now?: True Stories of Girlhood and Accidental Fame during one of my trips to UK, because it has a price tag in pounds, but heck if I can remember when. What I do remember is that I put the book at the back of the drawer because I was annoyed and/or upset at her for something she'd said online. I no longer remember what it was! So I suppose it's time to be reading.
There is a feeling at the start that Wilson was way too young to be writing a memoir, but upon reading it it does make sense, because the bulk is about her time as a child actress and the fallout of that into the neuroses of teenhood and young adulthood. And going through that same thing we all do, where in growing up we become conscious of certain kinds of privilege we don't have and having to reckon with that, except Wilson's realization of the importance of looking traditionally pretty isn't just about trying to fit in and get friends, but also to get acting work. (Ow.) She namechecks as specific examples her peers Kristen Stewart and Scarlett Johansson who beat her to roles and did get to make the transition to acting adults, and her raw frustration that this was not something she could balance out with talent.
Tangled up in that is the intense celebrity-adjacent subculture of growing up in Burbank, California surrounded by peers who want to "make it" into the business and thus have feelings about those who do when they do not. Mean girl culture in a greater Hollywood setting, baby! (Ooofff.) This is probably the most fascinating section of the book to me, of how that world warps the expectations of children and teenagers who feel they're in the pipeline to showbiz greatness. Also, by her reckoning, there's lore than the Californian school subculture of show choirs that she participated in was what inspired Ryan Murphy to make Glee, though that may be more guesswork than cold hard facts.
Wilson specifically lived through some rough times (including the early death of her mother), but she got out of showbiz with relatively less trauma than other child actors, but it's still only other child actors who could understand what it was like to grow up in that environment and have so much of your personality and looks dissected by people who don't know you. Also, to have creepers think it's fun to ask a child questions about mature topics they haven't yet grappled with. Toxic and sadly familiar.
Current Mood:hot
Current Music:Luciano Pavarotti - La donna è mobile
Grace Helbig is returning to YouTube. She made a video about it, and said something that resonated with me: we start out doing something because it is fun, and we keep doing it because we enjoy how fun it is. If we’re lucky, the thing we are doing for fun also helps us earn a living.
And then, when we aren’t paying attention, the thing that was fun is now work, and we are stressed as fuck about views and likes and reshares and oh my god this isn’t fun at all. Now, we are burned out.
Go watch Grace talk about this, if what I just told you seems interesting to you; she says a lot of insightful things that are worth hearing. I’m inspired, and want to make videos just like she does, if I can figure out some linux video editing software tools. But even if I can’t do video, I just want to get back to what it felt like when it was only fun, and I didn’t let all the other stuff get in the way.
I mention this because I only write in my blog for fun, and when I make it more important than just having fun, I really get in my own way. Yeah, I announcethe cool things that I get to do, the cons I’m attending, I share my work and my podcast, and things that are work-adjacent, but if it isn’t fun to sit here and write about something, I just don’t do it. I won’t even go into how frustrating it is when I feel like I have to force it.
And I forget, every single time, how much I enjoy posting in my blog, how much I enjoy interacting with anyone who reads it in comments, how good it feels to make the human connections that, ironically, don’t seem to happen on social media, on account of all the bots and trolls and endless efforts to disrupt our peace.
So, hi. I’m glad you’re here. I hope we can interact in the comments and feel a sense of shared humanity and community.
If you’d like to get these posts in your email, you can sign up here:
And now, a few things that have been on my mind, but not enough to fill up their own posts. I’m putting it behind a jump, because this got kind of long.
Since we are thinking about community …
LAist did a story about friendly local game shops. They talked to Donna Ricci, my friend who owns Geeky Teas & Games in Burbank, which happens to be both my favorite and my local game shop, and Jeff Eyeser, from Revenge Of in Eagle Rock (or maybe it’s Glassell Park, or Atwater Village. I’m unsure how the neighborhood boundaries work over there, but I’m sure someone will correct me). They both talked about not just building community, but nurturing and protecting it.
“We honor everyone who walks through our doors — except mean people,” Ricci said. “They can f**k off.”
I love this energy. Everyone should have this energy. Imagine how great it would be if every business (if every human) adopted this policy.
If you follow me on Bluesky, you know that something happened to me yesterday or maybe overnight while I was asleep, that seems to have flipped a switch inside of me that I have wanted to flip for literal decades: Some part of my brain insisted that I listen to the original cast recording of Cabaret. This is really weird. All I know about Cabaret is that Joel Gray and Liza Minelli are in it, and it’s painfully relevant to current events. That’s it. I have heard the “Welcome to the Cabaret” song a few times, but nothing else from the show.
I’ve never seen Cabaret, but from the moment I woke up, my brain DEMANDED that I listen to the original cast recording. I don’t even like musicals; I’ve lamented that I don’t have the gene, but holy shit this is so wonderful and I think maybe I got a mutation somehow and I get musicals?— Wil Wheaton (@wilwheaton.net) October 13, 2025 at 11:34 AM
You need this context to understand why this is a Thing for me: my whole life, I’ve wanted to like musical theater. So many of my friends have done musicals, are doing musicals, love to sing songs from musicals. And I just don’t get it. It’s like I don’t have the gene, or something? Everyone I knew growing up loved Grease. I just can’t stand it. Same with Phantom of the Opera and Cats. Oh my god do I hate Cats.
There were notable exceptions: Chicago, Les Miserables, Moulin Rouge. Rocky Horror Picture Show (which I didn’t even think of as a musical until yesterday, having categorized it as a cultural touchstone that is so much more than the sum of its parts) and Hamilton, of course.
But the classics? The ones that my elders adore? They’ve always left me cold. South Pacific and Oklahoma make my teeth itch.
Until yesterday. Yesterday morning, I listened to Cabaret three times in a row. Then I listened to The Music Man (oh my god Robert Preston where have you been all my life?), then I had to turn it off and listen to Joy Division so I could work without being distracted.
I don’t know if it’s a phase, but something is different in me today than it has been for my whole life. I still don’t like the musicals I don’t like, but I’m extremely open to discovering everything I’ve missed. I got tons of recommendations in my Bluesky mentions yesterday, but I’d love to hear yours, if you have any.
Let’s stay with music for a moment. I am late to the party, having only recently discovered The Warning, but better late than never. Three sisters from Monterrey, Mexico, who fell in love with music when they were kids, playing Guitar Hero and Rock Band. They formed a band that rocks so fucking hard, they will melt your face off. Listening to their albums put some of their contemporaries into my suggestions, and I am loving all the Mexican metal, largely driven by women, that is currently rocking my world. Start with Keep Me Fed, and you’ll know before the end of the first song if they are your jam. What are you listening to right now? Any new punk, metal, or hard rock you care to share?
I found this in my unpublished drafts folder with a note that says “this is overwrought and you should delete it” … but I didn’t. I feel VERY vulnerable sharing it, because it’s not my usual style, but this is now the third or fourth time I’ve thought about posting it, so clearly part of me feels it’s worth sharing.
This was drafted about five years ago:
Felt sad.
Felt scared.
Walked my dogs.
Went for a run.
Felt despair.
Had dinner with my family.
Held off a panic attack.
Took a walk with my wife.
Felt cynical.
Watched a movie.
Got through a day.
Cleaned my kitchen.
Did some work.
Felt hopeless.
Did some more work.
Had some meetings.
Felt angry.
Felt depressed.
Felt angry again.
Tried to sleep.
Did not sleep.
Finally slept.
Cleaned my office.
Felt numb.
Read a book.
Read some comics.
Felt okay.
Played some video games.
Got knocked down.
Got the fuck back up again.
To be able to create and share your creations without fear must be really wonderful. I have recently noticed that I’m not struggling with that the way I once did. Or, at least, not as intensely.
For almost ten years — Jesus Christ that’s a long time — I struggled like hell to understand why I never booked auditions. I asked trusted friends who I have worked with to please tell me what was wrong with me. Surely they must know, and surely they would be honest with me about why I stink, how they are able to wash the stink off when I work for them. Why does everyone tell me that I’m not just a good actor, but one of the better ones, and still I never book auditions? If I get feedback at all (and before I hung it up, I hadn’t gotten feedback for so long I don’t remember when the last time casting made the effort) it’s always positive. “You were great, but blah blah was cast.”
As the adult version of a child who was constantly told he had to earn his father’s attention and affection, but never told how to do that (ps – no child should have to earn love and attention), every audition was triggering. That’s why I quit. As much as I love being in a cast, as much as I love how good it feels to nail a performance, the industry has been loud and clear: Hollywood is not interested in me, hasn’t been for a long time, and if I keep chasing, that’s on me. I thought, “It’s weird that I can do this thing, and do it well, when I’m on the set, but never in auditions. What’s that all about?” Well, it turns out to have a lot of parts, but the bottom line is that actors who book jobs roll into the room with this confidence and commitment to the character that silently and instantly communicates to the room “Listen, you can cast me or not, but this is the best take on the character you’re going to see.” Because I was forced into acting by my mother, and then kept in it through her manipulation and exploitation of my desperate need to feel accepted in my home and family, I rolled in there with an underlying desperation: “please choose me so I have a chance at being loved by my parents. This is everything to me and I will do whatever it takes to make you happy.” I mean, it doesn’t matter how solid the performance is, how technically brilliant I am, whatever you want to call it, when there is a desperation that I’m not even aware of, underneath it all.
I’m genuinely and sincerely envious of actors who love the art, who come alive when they are performing, who don’t care if casting likes them or not, who get to feel in their souls what it means to be part of the community of performing artists. I have been close to that, I have felt it on occasion, but until this year, I didn’t realize that there was so much trauma and pain in between all of it, and me. I have wondered if I could try to do … something, probably theater, to find out if all of my trauma recovery work, which has been so intensely helpful in so many ways, has created space for me to love it the way I wish I could.
Earlier this year, I was given a Lifetime Achievement Award by AMDA. I didn’t say anything about it in public because I felt a little embarrassed. I’m only 53, so lifetime anything feels premature, but also … like … how can you give an acting and performance award to someone who can’t book an audition? Who, when you really get down to it, was just lucky to be in a few really, really good and memorable pieces of art? Sure, sure, I showed up and did the work, but it wasn’t just me. It was everyone involved in production. Nobody gets anything done on their own; everyone needs help to do any of this, and singling out one of us always feels weird.
I wanted to decline the award, but a couple of people who are close to me encouraged me to accept it, if only because it would give me an opportunity to speak to some kids about making great art.
I can’t find a local copy of the remarks I wrote for the event, so here’s a video of the entire talk (if you have time and interest, and a love of the arts, you may get something out of it). If you want to skip to my prepared remarks, they start right around 51 minutes.
Before I go, I need to clarify that the title of this post comes from The Dead Boys, not Paramore, and not Guns and Roses. Okay, I think that’s all for today. I’m glad you’re here. Take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.
I picked up The Epic of Bidasari (and other tales) during a book fair ages ago in trying to support a local publisher, Silverfish Books, though sadly since then said publisher has gone under, apparently due to business troubles during lockdown. The book is a 2012 republishing of a 1901 publication by The Colonial Press (actual name!) which was a translation work from Malay to English of the older text, though it's unclear if they also did the Malay transcription from the oral form.
I adore the 1964 black-and-white film Bidasari starring Sarimah and Jins Shamsudin. (Shockingly, I can't find an upload of the full film on youtube to share here!) It's because of that I picked up this book, and I really enjoyed reading the full English-translated poem, which makes up the meat of this book, though I do wish I had a Malay original as well because you can just SEE glimpses between the words of what the original was, plus as with all translations the vibes would just be different. Also, the dialogue of the Bidasari film is almost entirely in verse, and I would've loved to see if they'd ported anything over from the poem.
Bidasari is a folktale/fairytale about a princess, Bidasari, who is abandoned as a baby by her royal parents when they (the parents) are chased by a garuda and have to flee into the desert. Bidasari is rescued by a merchant of another kingdom, who prospers as he raises her. Bidasari grows up beautiful and kind and flawless (etc etc) which puts her in the radar of the queen, who is beautiful but not that beautiful, and fears that her husband the king will take Bidasari as his second wife if he sees her. So the queen has Bidasari brought to her and locks her up to abuse in the hopes of ruining her beauty, eventually seemingly killing her, but due to certain magical shenanigans Bidasari isn't dead dead, but only partly dead. Bidasari's body is returned to her merchant father, who puts her in a secret house-tomb in the woods that the king eventually stumbles upon while hunting.
Obviously there's some similarity to Snow White, and the filmmakers of the movie saw that, too, and made the queen a witch of sorts who has a magic mirror that she uses pretty much the same way as the Snow White queen does. But the biggest change, which surprised me, too, is that instead of Bidasari being the queen's stepdaughter, she's the queen's rival for the king's love, and that just makes so much sense! Of course that only works in a folktale setting where polygyny is a thing, and vanity is a good enough sin for these kinds of stories regardless, but the queen's intense, preemptive jealousy just feels more organic this way, which I thought was neat. Like, the queen created her own problems by targeting Bidasari, more or less. (The Bidasari movie has the love interest prince be the evil queen's stepson instead.)
One of the privileges I enjoy in my life is the opportunity to speak openly and honestly about my mental health struggles, challenges, and successes. I get to be the person I need in the world, and I get to pay forward the kindness and support so many people gave me while I was in the early years of recovery and scared to death that I would suffer night terrors, panic attacks, and uncontrollable anxiety for the rest of my life.
A combination of medication, EMDR and IFS therapy, and the love and support of my close friends and family all came together to save my life (literally) and help me find a way into a life that is fulfilling and joyful more often than it is not.
I am not suggesting that there’s nothing tricky about it, it’s just a little trick1. What I am saying is, access to medical care — physical and mental — is a human right, and in the richest country in the world, it should be freely accessible to everyone.
Until then, I am honored and grateful to lend my voice and my support to the organizations who work tirelessly to provide that care at low or no cost, organizations that are so important and always underfunded.
One of those organizations is right here in my backyard, and on October 23, I am speaking at the San Fernando Valley Community Mental Health Center’s 55th Anniversary Gala. We hope to raise some money to help them help our neighbors, and I’m going to share my story, which I hope inspires someone to take the first step on their own recovery journey.
We’re doing this at the magnificent Valley Relics Museum, and the event is open to the public. If you’re able to come to Van Nuys later this month, I hope you’ll join us.
That would be the Brad Jacobs … something or other. ︎
Description:characters20in20 is a 20in20 community dedicated to making icons of characters from movies and tv shows. You have 20 days to make 20 icons about a character of your choice, based on a set of themes for the round.
Schedule: Round 19 sign ups are open NOW. Icons are due October 27, 2025.
I'm watching the fourth case of Crime Scene Zero, and is it just me, or is someone in the crew/costuming department a fan of Sweeney Todd? Park Ji-yoon's look is a riff on Mrs. Lovett, right? I would've been more sure but the case has absolutely nothing to do with pies or any other foodstuff of dubious origin.
I picked up John Man's Genghis Khan: Life, Death and Resurrection so long ago that the bookstore chain I got it from is no longer doing business in this country. So, years ago! And I got it for reasons I no longer remember either, because I think I've been subconsciously avoiding John Man's works the same way I've been avoiding Tom Holland (the historian, not the actor!)'s because they're so everywhere and easy to find.
As a biography it's fine? I'm not familiar with Mongolian history beyond where it briefly touches other areas that are familiar to me, so this was nice as a primer, and Man's prose is solid and has a lot of passion for the topic. That said, there's an undertone that didn't work for me, I hesitate to call it paternalistic but maybe it is, in the way that Man describes certain beliefs and people. Man is very thoughtful and sympathetic to the struggles of modern Mongolia, and of the ways that the memory of Genghis is complicated by Mongolia-China's history as interpreted by modern day, but at the same time... To use specific examples, he describes some Buddhist-influenced ceremonies that honour Genghis as "strange", and he calls certain enemies of Genghis as "arrogant" and despicable without really giving further detail or giving said figures the same grace he gives Genghis, whom he fully acknowledges caused tremendous amounts of death and destruction in his conquests yet also speaks admiringly of. There's a line, I guess, in acknowledging the man's tremendous wartime skill and strategy and adaptability, without being breathlessly excited about the carnage he exacted.
Also, for a book that goes on a lot at times about the tactical moves Genghis made, I don't feel like I got a good grasp of how Genghis was so effective for so long and over such a large area. Yes, horses; yes, ruthlessness; yes, trusted generals -- but the logistics elude me somewhat, especially as for a great deal of it, the main moves made by Genghis's armies were to strike, grab, and then leave, with only some portions of the China side including any sort of effort to hold land and implement taxes, for a culture that valued the nomadic wilderness over the uselessness of farming. I think I need more comparisons of scale to better understand.
Anyway, the book is not just a history of Genghis Khan, but it's also about the cultural impact Genghis had as a figure of influence, memory and national identity. Those parts are absolutely fascinating but they by necessity come hand in hand with the partial memoir sections of Man's exploration of Mongolia in trying to follow Genghis' footsteps, to the place of his supposed birth to the place(s) of his supposed death and/or memorialization, with all of Man's misadventures of hiking in the wilderness, getting lost while climbing a mountain, stumbling upon helpful people in unexpected places, and so on. Makes for good stories, and it does bring the modern Mongolia of 2002 and 2009 to vivid detail, but it's there particularly that Man's idiosyncrasies come out in the telling, and my eyes glaze over.
Hey, I'm wondering if anyone can help me. I'm looking for two AU stories which I think are by the same author but I'm not 100% sure. The first one is called Playing for Keeps. If I remember correctly Jack is a casino owner and I think John is a rival casino owner. Lisa and Ianto are together. Lisa works for Jack but I think she is spying for John. I think Ianto goes to see Jack looking for Lisa and Jack refuses to let him leave as he becomes attracted to him. The second story is called Yearning. Lisa is Jack's younger sister and she's in a relationship with Ianto. I don't remember much more. I now one of the stories includes Ianto's mother living in a hospital facility. Any help would be appreciated. Thanks xxx
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