new fandom issues
Sep. 29th, 2023 10:52 pmThis post brought to you by my having spent a chunk of my free time during the last few days getting caught up in a new series! Er, a new-to-me series, as it's anything but new. I have you to thank, ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sovay, for my now being a fan of Sapphire And Steel. And, well. You'll see.
So, I was out on a walk earlier, and was passing by a large local park that's almost always full of people of all ages, between the soccer field, the tennis courts, and loads of open green space. And as I got closer... At first I thought someone had unfortunate timing with a child's musical toy, which got a mutter of "It's flipping September, come on," but once I was more in range, I realized what I was hearing was an ice cream truck with a playlist that, for a warm day in fairly early autumn, was downright eerie. I counted at least three Christmas songs, including some of a more religious variety, before the tunes shifted to old-fashioned, vaguely western standards and nursery rhymes, back again to carols and then away a second time.
And forgive me, but all I could think was, this is music out of time! An incursion? I absolutely said, "Oh, this is creepy!" at least once aloud. ... Er. I may have also murmured, "Upstairs and downstairs, upstairs and downstairs," in the suitable rhythm a time or two before I stopped myself. Yes, I was on a public sidewalk and yes, I'm of an age where that sort of thing is generally frowned upon. Boo hoo. The adult Anne Shirley would have done it too, even after 1918, and there have been shades of Anne Shirley in me for ages. I've had that pointed out to me before, by a trustworthy source I know wasn't being either cruel or snide when he said it.
The darn truck continued to mess with my head until I was out of its range, which, given my hearing and local wind action, meant until I was nearly home. Not that it was actively malevolent or any kind of threat, because I can still tell local reality from a particular fictional universe, thanks, but the oddity, the touch of the surreal, that was Christmas music on a warm afternoon in late September, plus the nursery rhymes (darn you assignment 1) and the twinkly mechanism overall definitely put me in a fannish headspace. Er, more of one is probably a better description. Heh.
All the way down the first block, and then the next one, I was daydreaming. I've long since gotten home, but my brain's been... elaborating. And then I admitted I was shelling thirst-scribbling again, because aces can do that too. By way of a self-insert elemental persona, no less. Ugh! I'm embarrassed. And I'm proud of what I've written, of the imagery, but also... shells, Chanter. I was going to post it, but now I hesitate.
Dammit.
sovay, for my now being a fan of Sapphire And Steel. And, well. You'll see. So, I was out on a walk earlier, and was passing by a large local park that's almost always full of people of all ages, between the soccer field, the tennis courts, and loads of open green space. And as I got closer... At first I thought someone had unfortunate timing with a child's musical toy, which got a mutter of "It's flipping September, come on," but once I was more in range, I realized what I was hearing was an ice cream truck with a playlist that, for a warm day in fairly early autumn, was downright eerie. I counted at least three Christmas songs, including some of a more religious variety, before the tunes shifted to old-fashioned, vaguely western standards and nursery rhymes, back again to carols and then away a second time.
And forgive me, but all I could think was, this is music out of time! An incursion? I absolutely said, "Oh, this is creepy!" at least once aloud. ... Er. I may have also murmured, "Upstairs and downstairs, upstairs and downstairs," in the suitable rhythm a time or two before I stopped myself. Yes, I was on a public sidewalk and yes, I'm of an age where that sort of thing is generally frowned upon. Boo hoo. The adult Anne Shirley would have done it too, even after 1918, and there have been shades of Anne Shirley in me for ages. I've had that pointed out to me before, by a trustworthy source I know wasn't being either cruel or snide when he said it.
The darn truck continued to mess with my head until I was out of its range, which, given my hearing and local wind action, meant until I was nearly home. Not that it was actively malevolent or any kind of threat, because I can still tell local reality from a particular fictional universe, thanks, but the oddity, the touch of the surreal, that was Christmas music on a warm afternoon in late September, plus the nursery rhymes (darn you assignment 1) and the twinkly mechanism overall definitely put me in a fannish headspace. Er, more of one is probably a better description. Heh.
All the way down the first block, and then the next one, I was daydreaming. I've long since gotten home, but my brain's been... elaborating. And then I admitted I was shelling thirst-scribbling again, because aces can do that too. By way of a self-insert elemental persona, no less. Ugh! I'm embarrassed. And I'm proud of what I've written, of the imagery, but also... shells, Chanter. I was going to post it, but now I hesitate.
Dammit.
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