The (brief) biography of Kastrelloberiathacon
Joker is busy
In my early roleplaying days, I created a Time Lord called Kastrell (his full name above). I didn't have much of an idea of him at the time, except that he was rather Pertwee-esque, wore an outfit similar to Colin Baker's except in blue (now that's been done in an online audio story), and had a TARDIS whose door opened and closed like that of an elevator car. I think I used him in one adventure and that was it. I've fleshed him out a bit since then, and I'd like to share his first four incarnations with you, along with some brief information.

Kastrell is a Time Lord of House Patrexes, who graduated the Academy if not with honours, then with a moderately impressive showing anyway. He began his career working in the Time Control Centre, monitoring comings and goings of Time Lords. He developed a knack for detecting unauthorised entries and departures, and more often than not was able to nip them in the bud. This brought him to the attention of Castellan Spandrell, who took him under his wing, hoping he'd win him over to the undercover branch of the Chancellery Guard. Instead, much to Spandrell's distaste, he was assigned to the Celestial Intervention Agency, and now does pretty much the same thing the Doctor does, only on a much smaller scale. He's not quite as brave as his more famous analogue, and would rather retreat when face with insurmountable odds, but he means well and is fairly successful at his endeavours.

He joined the CIA in his first incarnation, and was assigned a Type 50 TARDIS with an optional cloaking circuit, which he found more useful than the standard chameleon circuit that was also available. He doffed his heliotrope Gallifreyan robes in favour of a severe black Victorian ensemble. He had a mane of medium-length wavy white hair by this time, and a sharp lined face. His attitude was fairly serious, but a dry sense of humour would occasionally show through, and he was personable, if aloof. During this time, he met Kella, a warrior maiden of Toril who fought for the city of Waterdeep. She became his travelling companion for a time.

Initially, Kastrell found life outside the Citadel quite repugnant, as your average Time Lord would. His training required excursions designed to acclimating him to less antiseptic environments. The first Kastrell was known to denigrate "the base earth" he was forced to walk on and interact with. Rather ironic, then, that he should soon find himself growing quite fond of a planet named after dirt.

Through as-yet-unrelated circumstances, he regenerated into his second incarnation, a jolly, self-effacing country gentleman with a Yorkshire accent. He dressed according to his personality, mainly in earth-toned tweeds and knits of a 1940s English style. It was during this incarnation that he got particularly keen on dill pickles. During this time he met and married a woman from 1940s Ireland, Dally Forthwright. He ended up adopting her surname and she travelled with him for a time, until his next regeneration, when she found him too disagreeable. Although they both realised they were no longer suited to live together, they parted on good terms and remained great friends.

Kastrell's third incarnation went off the deep end. He had become a flashy 1980s fashion plate with a platinum-blond quiff and an appetite for very little other than that decade and its many diversions. He was very reluctant to embark on any journey or mission that took him away from Eighties-era Earth. He started well, but became increasingly unreliable and unstable, to the point that he was released from official service. He ignored his recall, and eventually overdosed on cocaine in a hotel room in Miami, FL on Dec 31, 1989, while watching all he adored come to an end at midnight.

Fortunately, his fourth incarnation was a complete turnaround. Immediately looking back at his most recent self, he made a decision then and there to repent. He set his TARDIS for a remote planet known for its peaceful wisdom-seeking culture and materialised it in the form of a humble temple on a plain. In this incarnation he wore his dark hair longer and donned simple woven robes and tunics. He vowed to use his time to atone for his past wanton nature and find his new self, until the Time Lords see fit to reveal his fate.

I'd just like to go on record as saying that it is UNCONSCIONABLE for our lawmakers to continue to take a paycheck while threatening a government shutdown that would deny our soldiers their pay, which they earned at considerable risk to life and limb.  Yet, if said shutdown occurs, they will indeed keep getting paid.


Joker is busy
It occurs to me that in writing that last piece, "Wine-coloured Thoughts", I didn't say nearly enough about fear of death, which is one of my own personal demons and part of what drove me to write it in the first place.   To get through a story without saying what I came to say is undeniably failtastic.

So I've revised it, and I encourage everyone who read it to do so again.    I think it will flow much better now.

"Wine-coloured Thoughts"---Doctor Who, PG-13, (angst, Four/Romana)
Hungry doc
So why was Four all somber in season 18?

The Doctor's dreams are dark of late, and he decides he needs a change.

"Why the change?"Collapse )

Roger Waters: The Wall--October 10, 2010
I have had the most amazing musical theatre experience of my life. 

What I have to say here may make no sense if you're not a fan of Pink Floyd, or its de facto ex-leader, Roger Waters.   He is currently touring his best known and, IMHO, most profound work,  The Wall,  and I was there, along with my very good friend  enemyfrigate, to witness something I've waited 21 years to see.

The Wall is all about what happens when people stop communicating; when we choose to close ourselves off and stop relating to each other as human beings.  Waters' story was originally a very personal one, albeit with broad themes, and he has chosen to explore those broader themes more explicitly in his new production.  The new tour points out, in sharp scathing detail, the trappings of modern life that serve to become bricks in our walls: consumerism, politics, propaganda, religion.  As with all of Waters' work, it pulls no punches, spares no feelings.  Here, as best as I can remember, is a play-by-play of what I experienced.   Whenever possible, I'll draw comparisons between the original work and the new.

Here be spoilers.  
When pigs fly...Collapse )

Which Supervillain am I?
Bright keyboard
Your results:
You are Riddler

The Joker
Dark Phoenix
Poison Ivy
Dr. Doom
Mr. Freeze
Lex Luthor
Green Goblin
Riddle me that, riddle me this, who is obsessed with having a battle of wits??

Click here to take the Supervillain Personality Quiz

The Diary of "Revo Duran, Eighties Man!" #1
Dear Diary,

Slow day today...slept in till ten and then fixed a light breakfast. Running out of Pac-Man cereal. I'll have to put that on my "to-do" list.

On the phone all morning booking dates for the club. No one's available! They're all busy with something called "Live Aid" this weekend. Had to settle for some Philly kid who calls himself the "Fresh Prince". (Probably never amount to anything with a name like that.) Hip-hop will do, I suppose, but, was really hoping to get Madonna in here. Or at least The Power Station. Could still get Robert Palmer, I suppose, if he's not too busy with his new solo project.

Got a call from Limahl this afternoon. I asked him whether he was finally ready for me to think up a new name for his group. Sadly, no...he was just having a bad hair day and the mousse wasn't cutting it. Got him to stop crying long enough to tell him I'd be over. The DeLorean was in the shop, so had to moonwalk. Whipped out the Sassoon-o-magic comb and everything was fine.

Was going to stay up late and catch MTV's Top 20 Video Countdown, but am out of Jolt too. Bummer.

Question meme
from enemyfrigate :

Leave me a comment saying "Resistance is futile."

• I'll respond by asking you five questions so I can satisfy my curiosity
• Update your journal with the answers to the questions
• Include this explanation in the post and offer to ask other people questions

1) What is your impossible dream?

To not die until I was ready, if ever.

2) What one skill do you wish you had (that you do not now have)?

Effective emotional management.

3) Worse enemy: Darth Vader or the Master?

Overall, I would have to say the Master. Both are formidable in their own way, but the Master's area of influence is far greater, given access to a TARDIS. Furthermore, while Vader's fall was certainly more tragic, it was a choice made from an immature standpoint, as a refusal to accept that which he could not change. OTOH, the Master fully accepts that it is within his dominion to change/reorder the universe as he sees fit, and makes this choice in full possession of the fact and conscious of its permutations.

4)If you could "live" one movie or book or TV show, which would you choose?

Strictly in terms of inhabiting the environment, I would live in Middle-earth, but I'm torn. I'd aspire to be an elf, possessed of longevity, nobility, beauty and fabulous clothing, but the truth is I was born a hobbit, and would probably end up in the Shire and be perfectly happy. So let's say, ideally, an elf, but practically, a hobbit.

5) What's your ideal road trip?

Getting into a car and driving, with no destination in mind, taking as long as I wished and discovering new places and new beauty, staying in one spot for a time or continuing on as I chose, and returning home when I was homesick.

New fic!
Joker is busy
So! I had a plot bunny just jump in my head. This could be either Torchwood or Doctor Who, I suppose. It's a perspective on Jack Harkness' immortality. And the price the universe could pay for it. Rated PG-13, I suppose, for angst n' horror. Worksafe.
Rich text seems to be giving me some issues, so no cut.

Ghost in the Shell

He had wondered what would happen if he lived a million years. Now he knew. He had changed beyond his wildest imaginings.

He knew that eventually, they would find him, the man who couldn't die. Over years they had probed, tested, drugged, mutilated, mutated. They had threaded his nerves through circuit and fiber optic wire, grafted his flesh to metal and plastic.

They were endlessly patient. After his body they'd set to work on his mind. It took centuries; he had an incredibly resilient psyche for a human. But in the end, they'd worn him down. When his hope was finally spent, the indoctrinations took.

A tiny part of his mind wept at what they'd made of him. It screamed soundlessly to be let out of this nightmare.

He was beyond articulating these thoughts. They were drowned now, subsumed beyond hope of rescue, by a single overpowering command.




"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."
Bright keyboard

OK, so it's actually a cloudy warm and humid day in July, and the clocks are reading 6:15 am.  But today is my birthday, and I have reached the age of George Orwell's protagonist in 1984, Winston Smith.  (No, I'm not telling you my age.  Read the book.  Clever way to maintain anonymity on the net and encourage reading, eh?)

The above quote is the opening line of 1984, and it's probably my favourite opening line ever to a book.   Right from the get-go you know something's not quite right.  Unless you live on an Army base, clocks don't normally strike thirteen.

Birthdays, at least proper ones, are all about freedom anyway.  I normally don't make a fuss about my birthday, cos it's just another day as far as I'm concerned.  When they find out, people normally say, "why didn't you say?" and I reply that I don't care to boast about it.  I've always considered it fishing for compliments you don't normally get any other time of year and people wouldn't have given you anyway.   I feel a little different today, though.  Partly because much as I may WANT to consume the entire cake my mother made, it wouldn't be good for me.  So I brought it in to work to share around.   And when you come in with a delicious cake, you don't really have to explain it, I guess; it'll get eaten.  But I figure why not, this year?  Cos it's my birthday, that's why.  Celebrate with me.  Not enough reasons to celebrate lately, so you might as well get them in while you can.  Cos I'm alive, dammit, and I can.

And my official reason for anything I do today that strikes people as odd or lunatic is, "Cos it's my birthday, that's why."

Take time to celebrate today.   For whatever you feel like celebrating.  Life's too short not to.  That's my birthday wish.


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