Let's not have an S

Warning: Maudlinity ahead

2007-10-31T04:54:26Z

First off, thanks so much to all of you guys for the warm welcome back! Now for the sap.

There was a victory parade in Boston today for the Red Sox. It didn't pack the emotional punch of the 2004 celebration, but it was still quite a spectacle.

As some of you might know, my mother died six years ago, around this date. She was a huge Red Sox fan, but sadly never got to see them win it all. So for me, and many, many other people, 2004 was all about the ones who weren't there to celebrate.

Cut to 2007, and here we are again. As I said, the series and the win didn't have the same effect on me as 2004. Until I was on the T yesterday and saw this headline:

I got all choked up, remembering my mother and realizing how lucky we are as sports fans here in Boston to see a repeat of something many of us never thought we'd see once.

So here's to the Red Sox. And to my mother and father. And to Caroline (who did at least get to see them win it once).

Anyone out there???

2007-10-30T04:10:26Z

So, it's been ages since I've posted on my LJ. I've been stuck on Brokeback Mountain. Most of my f-list are not Brokebackers, so this diatribe will be meaningless to you. Feel free to ignore or tell me to get a life. But man, I need to get this out.

I've spent most of my online time over the past year and a half on the Dave Cullen forums, a place where BBM fans and Jake/Heath fans gather to gush and overanalyze the movie/short story and track Jake's every move through the scary amount of pap photos of him that are available. I kid - we didn't really track him. Ahem, moving on...

The main Jake-worshiping thread, called Eyelashes, was a place where speculation about Jake's sexuality was allowed, and where people posted pics to drool over. You were supposed to be able to talk about Jake and any object of his or your desire.

So now Jake is in a public relationship with, gasp, a woman*! And he gave a recent interview in which he is quoted as saying, essentially, that he's not gay and never has been.

The delicate flowers on the DC forum who don't like to think of Jake touching any icky girl parts have somehow conned the mods into actually creating a whole separate thread where pics of Reese and talk about Reese is confined. Now on Eyelashes, you can talk about and post pics of Jake and anyone else. Except Reese.

Funnily enough, on the new thread, you can also post pics of and talk about Jake and anyone else. So it's an ideal world for the fragile flowers - on Lashes, Reese is persona non posta. And on the new thread, you can drown out any talk about or pictures of Reese with talk about and pictures of all the other people you can also talk about and post pictures of on Lashes.

And if that isn't enough sustenance for your Reese-ripping soul, you can take a hop over to the photo-captioning thread, where a flood of hateful, misogynistic anti-Reese posts and bitter "Jake's a lying, bearding fool" posts will keep you busy.

After giving us a heart-breaking portrayal of a gay man in BBM, over the past two years, Jake has unfailingly praised the story and film, his fellow actors, the production team and BBM fans. He just recently described the phenomenon this way: "'It's been extraordinary,'' Gyllenhaal says of life post-Brokeback. ''It has taken me to a different place in my career. Nothing but wonderful, positive things have come out of that experience.''

Unlike Heath, Jake has not tried to distance himself from BBM. He received an HRC award, for which he taped a moving acceptance speech. He alone attended the MTV Awards and put up with all the smirking and sneering "jokes" in order to accept the "Best Kiss" trophy, which he characterized as a "big deal." He attended the GLAAD awards in LA to present an award to Jennifer Aniston.

Should he get extra credit for doing things that are right? I'm not saying that. It's not like he's devoted his life to the good deed of advancing the gay cause. But does Jake really deserve the scorn, the contempt, the derision, the suspicion, the condemnation that people are heaping upon him just because he decided to out himself as a hetero? I'm not talking about the idiots on the net who can't distinguish Jake from the character he played or who live to scream "GAY!" whenever his name is mentioned.

I'm talking about Jake's alleged fans. Was the message of BBM that tolerance goes only one way? Is misogyny suddenly cool? Is it okay to subject Jake to this pressure and this level of scrutiny because gay people have suffered the same for so long? If he really is gay, is it his obligation to come out and fulfill the requirements other people impose on him? He played a role in a film that affected a lot of people. But can't we let him move on?

I don't know why so many people are so invested in Jake's sexuality. All I know is that a place I used to love, my Jake home on the internet, is a cold, unwelcoming place now.

And despite all that, I miss it :(

So now that I have to leave that behind me, you'll see me here, posting Jake tidbits most of you won't care about. But I promise to try to remember how to discuss other topics!

*For the record, Reese Witherspoon is not anyone I pictured as Jake's paramour. I do believe that their relationship is real, and I like to see pics of Jake in love. But this is not my Jake-couple dream come true.

Fun with food, part two

2006-06-13T21:13:57Z

It's been a while since I've posted an embarrassing food incident. This one is not as amusing, or humiliating, as the The Purloined Lunch. But I know a few folks on my f-list are feeling down or having a tough time. And what better medicine than to laugh at a fellow LJer?

So, last week, my boss left. Sad for our department, and especially for another colleague (Z) and me. The three of us have worked at the company almost from its inception; Z was employee number 5. My boss and I started the same week and argued over who was 6 and who was 7.

Almost six years later, we have become a pretty good team. My boss isn't leaving the company, but she is moving away, so we will get a new head of our department. And we'll miss the boss - she was cool and caring and mostly laissez-faire. Despite our bitterness that she's leaving us vulnerable to a NewBadBoss, Z and I thought the old team should go out for one last lunch.

So off we go to a Mexican restaurant. Back when our company had 10 people and not 60, we'd go to this place. Except it was a Chinese restaurant then. Now it's cuisine de Mexique, but it's all good. I order a yummy shrimp dish, and when it arrives, it comes with tortillas.

I wasn't expecting tortillas. there was no mention of them in the menu description of my meal. But hey, who am I to turn them down. The problem was that I kept saying, "Ooh, pancakes," knowing that wasn't the right word. It was as if I thought I'd ordered Moo Shi/Shu shrimp.

All through the meal, everytime I mentioned the tortillas, I said pancakes. And it was driving me crazy that I couldn't think of the right word. But I didn't just say, "You know what I mean..." and have one of my learned colleagues supply the noun for me.

Then, like a bright light out of nowhere (i.e., my brain), I remembered the word. And apropos of nothing that was being said, as we were waiting for the check, I blurted out "TORTILLAS!"

My boss looked a little happier to be leaving and Z, a little sadder to be staying. I was just mortified that it had taken me over an hour to think of the most basic Mexican/Spanish foodstuff. And, oh, yeah, that I had then shouted it out in the middle of the restaurant.

But hey, at least I didn't steal anything from anyone!

Back later with weeks' worth of pet peeves and pointless observations. Hope all is well out there. I have been reading, even if I've been a bad responder/ent.

Happy Easter/Passover/Spring Festivus!

2006-04-16T08:51:54Z

I've been out of commission for a few weeks. No, I didn't get arrested for trafficking in illegal BBM DVDs. I was felled by something I usually savor - bile! That's right, folks, I may no longer have the wherewithal to snark.

Three weeks ago, I was awoken at 5AM by a severe, stabbing, sickening pain in my abdomen. My sister told me it was probably my gall bladder. After suffering for a few hours and finally puking, I went to the emergency room. After a not-so-horrible wait, I was told that it was, indeed, my gall bladder and that I would, in due course, have to have it removed. But they insisted they did not want to do it "emergently." (Due to a desire not to antagonize people who might hold my life, or gall bladder, in their hands, I refrained from screaming that they weren't using that word properly.)

They sent me home with instructions to see my PCP, see a surgeon and see them in about six weeks or so. And with a prescription for Percocet! I felt pretty confident. Despite a few snafus in the ER, I had been treated at the second-best hospital in this medical capital - and the Number 12 hospital in the country!

After being home for not more than five minutes, I got a call from one of the "Emergent" Room doctors, telling me to immediately return to the hospital to be admitted. Turns out that they didn't bother reading one of my tests until after I left, and my lipase level was "off the charts," indicating acute pancreatitis, something I associated with excessive alcohol consumption. After hours of telling doctors that I hardly ever drink, I was convinced they'd think I was a lying lush! Turns out that gall stones are one of the two most common causes of pancreatitis. And the treatment is hospital admission, and no eating or drinking - anything - until order is restored. Without treatment, it could have been curtains!

So I had no choice but to go back to the hospital, where I remained for four and a half days while they went back and forth on what procedures to perform and when. Ironically, I experienced no pain and no symptoms in my entire hospital stay. My vital signs were all perfect, my blood work all came down to normal very quickly. But because of the severity of the attack, they kept insisting they wanted to do something. But they never actually did anything.

Finally, after what my sister called "a week at a very Spartan spa," I was released, with the name of the hospital's best surgeon for what I needed (laparoscopic gall bladder removal). Finally, on Tuesday, I underwent the surgery. Since then, I've been recuperating. I'm still sore and a bit dizzy, but I stopped taking the painkillers. I have no idea how anyone could get hooked on Percocet. Without increasing the TMI factor of this post, let's just say the side effects are not worth the narcotic bliss.

Despite some alarming mistakes, I have to applaud the staff of the Brigham, especially the nurses and aides. They were all incredibly kind and gentle, reassuring and skillful. As were most of the doctors...

Anyway, I'm slowly getting back to normal life, but I can't seem to stop sleeping. (I know it's 4:30AM as I type this, but I slept all afternoon. I did at least get to take a long walk on this beautiful day.)

So, that is the very long, very boring story of "How I spent my early spring." I will try to achieve the same levels of snark and sarcasm I managed before the removal of all that gall! I'll trust my f-list to provide the requisite support.

I hope you are all enjoying better times. I'll try not to be such a stranger : )

ps Thanks to Stark for spreading the word for me. And hello to all the SZ newcomers on my f-list.

New Stabler Community

2006-02-28T15:51:15Z

Things have been just too rocky around here...

But seriously, rileyc and mav4oz have created tietuckluv, a community ~~to worship~~ for discussion of and fanfic about Elliot Stabler. So whether you want to slash Elliot or set him straight (hee), if you're a Stabler fan, go here to join the party.

Blasts from the past

2006-01-21T01:29:51Z

Secret message to lostingeekdom: I just got your e-mail and I'm on it, babe.

Public message to maverick4oz: Happy Birthday to the most valuable player in Oz fandom. Thanks for everything you do for us and the boys! Hope all your wishes come true.

I'm just posting a couple of old General Hospital fics I wrote for a challenge a while back. You were supposed to take a character and write about how his/her life would have been different by altering the events of his/her life at five different points.

Lucky Spencer - played by the original actor - is one of my favorite fictional characters ever, so I chose him. But I punked out and did only two points. Someone on another board asked about them, and since I don't have them posted anywhere, I figured I'd post them here. Now that I'm back, I'll try to stick around : )

1996
Port Charles
Spencer Household

Lucky Spencer grabs hold of his brother Nikolas Cassadine, dragging him out of their sister's bedroom. He wasn't supposed to be here. There was no way his father would have allowed it, and Lucky sure didn't invite a Cassadine into the house.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, man?"

"Let go of me."

"Are you crazy? Huh?" Lucky pushes him, pumped up with adrenaline, his resentment growing. "Are you crazy?"

"Will you relax," Nikolas sneers. "I'm leaving."

He turns to go, but Lucky grabs his jacket again. He can't let Nikolas think he can just come and go as he pleases, like he owns the place. All he proved was that he could sneak in like a coward when Lucky's back was turned.

"You come here when my parents are gone. What - did you come through the window? Huh - did you come through the window?"

Nikolas' only answer is a haughty stare.

Lucky can tell he's pushing the royal buttons now. "Come on, tell me. I want an answer. Tell me."

Nikolas clenches his fists but doesn't reply. He turns to walk away, but Lucky doesn't let him go - he pulls him back. He wags his finger at Nikolas, as Luke and Laura return home, unaware of what is going on upstairs. Nikolas finally asserts his advantage, pushing the younger, smaller Lucky up against the wall.

"I'm so sick of you and your squeaky threats and your mindless paranoia," he seethes.

Lucky glares back, surprised but enraged. His reaction is instinctive - and irreversible.

He pushes Nikolas off of him.

Nikolas loses his balance, lurching back and gripping at the banister, but he can't hold on.

Lucky watches as if it's all happening in slow motion. Nikolas tumbles down the stairs, his body crumpling and landing at the bottom just as Luke and Laura enter the house.

It's his mother's horrified gaze that finally draws Lucky out of his trance.

Laura looks up at an obviously unhinged Lucky, then looks back down to her injured son. Lucky remains frozen in place.

And then Stefan is suddenly there - phoning for an ambulance.

The nightmare is becoming all too real. A frightened, teary-eyed Lucky stares down upon the scene - still unable to move. He's further chilled by his father's reaction. Luke looks up at him with an almost gloating look in his eyes - an expression that seems to shout "Way to go, Cowboy!"

Lucky is even more sickened and confused by what has happened - what he's done.

Joining the scene downstairs as the EMTs take Nikolas out, Lucky swears to his mother that it was an accident. She pulls him into her arms, trying to offer some reassurance. She says she knows, that it will be okay, but then she is out the door, eager to get to the hospital to reassure herself as well.

After Laura leaves, Stefan remains in the doorway, his back to the living room.

"Aren't you going?" Luke goads as Lucky turns away, trying to disengage himself from the continuing battle.

"Do you pray, Mr. Spencer?" Stefan asks, calmly. "If not, now would be a good time to start."

"Pray for your nephew?" Luke sneers.

The tone in his father's voice grates on Lucky and he wonders how his father can be so callous.

"For your son."

Lucky snaps to as Stefan finally turns to face him.

Luke jumps to his son's defense, countering Stefan's threat with his own. "You get out of here before I kill you where you stand," he demands.

Stefan doesn't flinch, his gaze still on Lucky as he vows, "If he dies, there will be no corner of hell for you to hide in."

The warning is ominous, and Lucky is too numbed to respond. Stefan exits and Lucky finally takes a breath. Luke walks over, embracing his son. Lucky wonders if it's comfort or praise his father is offering, unwilling to accept either one.

A week later
An island in Greece

Getting here had been easier than he thought. He'd been in one place for so long, he was afraid he might have lost his touch. But it had all come back. At 14, he'd already traveled the globe, often on his own. Though always with his parents' knowledge, if not their permission. They didn’t approve his cross-country adventure with Emily. But he wanted them to follow him then. He knew they would. And they had.

Everything was different now, of course. His mother and father undoubtedly knew he was gone, but he'd bet good money that they wouldn't guess where he was. And he knew they weren't right behind him this time. He couldn't even be sure they were together.

Not after what he'd done.

He tried to shake off the memory, inching his way across the Cassadine family island, relieved that he'd successfully completed this solo journey. Well, almost completed - he had one last thing to do before he could leave this all behind him. He was careful not to leave a trail on the meticulously landscaped grounds as he moved toward the compound - a gleaming white fortress rising above the lush green lawn and the sparkling blue Aegean.

A solid wall of stone. Unshakable, unyielding. Unforgiving.

But he wasn't here for mercy. He would never ask for it, and it wouldn't be offered. He was here for one reason only. For his sister. And the brother who had saved her life.

Lucky surveyed the compound, quickly determining the servants' quarters from the main house. He tried not to, but couldn't help wondering which room his mother had been held in all that time. Or what floor Nikolas' room was on. Where he slept, where he studied, where he played. If he played.

Don't think about that, Lucky told himself, checking his pocket, for probably the hundredth time, encouraged as his fingers brushed over the concealed object. It strengthened his resolve and his mission.

He had to make his move quickly, after the services but before the crypt was sealed. The whole island felt like a mausoleum, but Lucky was sure they marked some sort of separation between the crypts of the living and the dead. He smirked for just a second - his father would have liked that joke.

Then he remembered why he was here. And his smile faded.

Finally, he found the building where Nikolas was being laid to rest. He kept his distance, but through the open door he caught glimpses of the guests as they sat in what appeared to be the Cassadine family chapel. The mood was somber, serious, sad. But not grief-stricken. He heard nothing like the agonized wails of his mother as she cried over the lifeless body of her firstborn - killed on his very first visit to his mother's home.

Perhaps the same fate awaited Lucky on this, his first visit to the place Nikolas called home. He wondered if the wooden frame and homey decor of the Spencer house seemed as strange and unwelcoming to Nikolas as the compound's white walls and ornate columns felt to him.

He listened as the unfamiliar invocations and blessings filled the chapel, as the assembled participated in foreign rituals. He felt like a stranger - an interloper.

Then he waited as the last of the dry-eyed mourners left the service, watched as Stefan accompanied the procession of dignitaries and clerics back to the main house. There was no sign of Helena, the mad matriarch who perpetuated this bitter war and who would no doubt reinforce her efforts now. But Lucky assumed there were other family members and friends among the mourners. He sensed little, if any warmth, however. There were no children present - no young people at all, really. No cousins, no friends, no one Nikolas' own age.

He remembered BJ's funeral, and Stone's memorial service, both full of love and loss, shared laughter and tears. From what he could see, Nikolas' service was marked by formality and tradition, but not emotion. Everything felt very controlled and contained. Lucky knew the slightest spark could change that, and he had no desire to find out just how fast it could happen. He had to move quickly, in and out, without being noticed.

Cursing his complete lack of familiarity with Greek, Lucky waited as the servants cleared the chapel. Finally, they left, and when he was sure no one else was present, he went in.

Lucky hesitated, unsure of the customs or traditions of Nikolas' religion. His mere presence was crime enough - he had no wish to commit any sacrilege. In fact, he realized, he had no idea what religion Nikolas had practiced, if he had been a believer or a doubter. One of the many things about Nikolas that Lucky didn't know, that now he would never know.

Lucky tried to refocus on his goal of delivering Lulu's gift for her brother. He forced himself to ignore the names lining the walls of the ornate crypt. Nikolas would lie here, for eternity, with Mikkos and Stavros, in a place of honor with the other fallen Cassadine princes. But Lucky was determined that Nikolas would keep a part of his maternal heritage, as well.

He had assumed that Nikolas' coffin was hidden from view by the altar, but as Lucky approached, all he could see was a silver urn. He drew a deep breath, realizing that the vessel contained all that was left of his brother. He faltered a bit, thrown by the stark simplicity of the urn. He would have expected something intricate, ornate - fit for a prince.

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

"You surprise me, Lucky. I didn't realize you were a student of poetry. Of course, that was a rather prosaic choice, but any evidence of culture or civility in you is a revelation."

Lucky's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't realized he'd uttered those words out loud. Or that Stefan had entered the chapel behind him.

"I don't know why that came into my head."

"It's the finale of Keats' most famous poem - Ode on a Grecian Urn."

Lucky detected the resonance of mockery in Stefan's tone as he remembered the passage. "You're right - that was a predictable choice. My father would be disappointed in me." Lucky took another deep breath - he didn't know why he'd said that. He sure as hell didn't want to think about the underlying truth - what Luke would think once he learned of Lucky's covert mission. He couldn't think about any of that now. He had to keep it together - he hadn't come this far to lose it all in front of Stefan Cassadine.

"I can't imagine there is anything you could do now that would truly disappoint your father, Lucky. You proved your complete loyalty and devotion to him the moment you murdered your brother."

"You never called him that before," Lucky noted.

"You object to my using the term 'brother,' but not 'murder?'" Stefan eyed Lucky, studying him in that typically cool, infuriating way.

"I don't object - I just found it interesting," Lucky observed, regaining some of his footing. Upon closer inspection, Stefan seemed just as nervous as he was.

"It is an incontrovertible fact, Lucky. You were Nikolas' brother. And you are his killer - that truth is also unassailable. May I ask in which inglorious capacity you are here?"

"I'm here as Lulu's brother," he explained, reaching into his jacket.

"Do not move," Stefan commanded.

Lucky looked up to see Stefan holding a gun - with an unsteady grip, but still, it was aimed right at Lucky's heart.

"I'm not here to hurt you..." Lucky stammered, causing Stefan to move closer.

"You cannot hurt me anymore than you already have."

"I know, I know, I'm..." Lucky trailed off, unable to confess his remorse. "I'm not here to do anyone any harm, or to disrespect your family."

"Really? And you show your respect by breaking into our family chapel, sacred ground, moments after Nikolas' memorial service. You'll pardon me if I am a little more than suspicious of your intentions."

"You have every right not to trust me, but I swear, I'm telling the truth." Stefan's incredulous glare didn't deter Lucky. "I didn't come here for myself or my father. Or even for my mother. I'm here for my sister. For Nikolas' sister," Lucky breathed, his voice shaky. "I wanted him to have something of hers, something to keep with him forever, the way that she..."

"Will always carry a part of him?" Stefan whispered, his voice cracking as he lowered the gun. "Tell me, was it jealousy that sent him down that flight of stairs - or was it just that he had already served his purpose?"

Lucky paled at the accusation, unable to answer when he couldn't be sure himself. He stepped aside as Stefan reached out to steady himself, holding onto the altar.

Stefan gazed at the urn, then startled Lucky by lifting the cover. Lucky watched silently as Stefan reached in, removing some of the ashes. He ran his fingers over the particles lovingly, reverently.

"This is all that is left of Nikolas now - his brief, bright, shining light snuffed out by your foolish, reckless temper. You might think that these ashes are light, insubstantial, but there is weight and substance here. As with Nikolas himself," Stefan whispered. "I can actually feel tiny pieces of his bones…"

Lucky was rattled by Stefan's dark mood - he seemed to be talking to himself, as if he'd forgotten Lucky was even there. He cleared his throat, and Stefan caught Lucky's expression, misreading his apprehension as horror.

"Does this bother you?" Stefan goaded, his voice intensifying with anger and grief. "To be so close to the remains of the flesh and bone that saved your sister's life? To know that if I had never allowed Nikolas' assistance in saving your sister, that you would be the one who buried your loved one. That you would be the one in mourning. And that I would still have the only thing on this earth that was ever precious to me!"

Lucky stepped back, chilled as Stefan's emotional outburst receded into steely calm.

"Do not think for a minute that I will ever believe that it was an even trade. Or a fair one. You may leave your offering. I will see to it that it is kept with him. Then take your own leave, and do not ever darken this island with your presence again."

Lucky nodded, then turned to face the altar.

"Nikolas," he began in a hushed voice. "I... I don't know what to say. I don't think you and I ever had a real conversation, and now.... Well, now I need to say a few things, even if you can't hear me. But I hope you can, somehow. I never thanked you for saving Lulu's life. The truth is that I was jealous of you for taking my place. I was supposed to be the firstborn. I was supposed to be the hero. I hated you for taking that away from me. So I never gave you a chance.

"But Lulu would have. She would have loved you - she will love you. I promise you that. She will know that her big brother protected her and saved her and loved her."

Lucky cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, removing a small booklet. He opened it and ran his finger over the pages.

"My mom and I… Mom and I made this for Lulu when she was born. It's sort of a memory book. It has her birth date, and weight and length, her first footprints, a little lock of her hair. There's a picture, too - her first official portrait. She looks so cute, so much like you." Lucky lost the battle with his tears as he closed the book and placed it on the altar. "You missed out on so much of her life. This was the only thing I could think of to give you, so that she will always be with you. As you will always be with her."

Lucky started to leave, but turned back one last time.

"I'm sorry, Nikolas. I will be sorry until the day I die. Good-bye."

With that, Lucky left the chapel, brushing past Stefan and running, as hard and as fast as he could, past the approaching guards, away from the compound, from the unbearable reality of what he'd done.

"Do you want us to follow him, Sir?"

Stefan shook his head and smiled that inscrutable smile. "Master Spencer can run, but he cannot escape what he's done. There is no corner of hell for him to hide in."

1996
Port Charles
Spencer Household

It's the day before Laura Spencer's funeral. Emily Quartermaine has come to visit her best friend, to try to commiserate over the awful pain of losing your mother. She recalls the anger, the emptiness, and the loneliness that can quickly overshadow everything else. Lucky was one of the few people who had seen her through all of that. Emily had tried to comfort Lucky earlier, on the phone, but he sounded distracted and detached. She was hopeful that, in person, she could help him, somehow.

Lucky walks down the stairs slowly. He dreads having to face Emily. He feels like a fraud, like a traitor. Like he's betraying something sacred.

"Emily - you want something to eat?" he asks in an attempt to disguise his unease.

Emily responds with a simple, heartfelt, "Lucky," then moves to hug him. He reluctantly accepts her embrace but quickly pulls away, unable to keep eye contact.

"I'm really sorry about your mom."

"Thanks. You know, I'm really okay."

"You know, I said that, too..."

"Yeah, but this is different, Emily," he insists. "Listen, can..." he hesitates, clearly torn. "Can you please just not worry about me."

Emily is a little taken aback by Lucky's demeanor. She's confused, and maybe more than a little hurt. But empathetic. "Okay, I just wanted to say that... You probably want to be alone."

"All I'm doing right now is packing," Lucky mutters. "You can help me figure out what to take if you want. After today, I'm not living here."

"In this house?" Emily asks innocently.

"In Port Charles," he reveals. He looks remorseful, almost ashamed.

"Oh," Emily is totally at a loss, stunned by this piece of news. She puts her hand to her mouth, as if she might cry, but composes herself. "Okay... well… bye then," she manages, then leaves, her heart in her throat.

Lucky just stands there, wallowing in self-disgust, hating himself for running her off without reason or explanation. Luke comes down the stairs and asks about Emily.

"Dad, this is wrong," Lucky declares.

Luke agrees, but it doesn't seem to faze him. He tells Lucky to hang on just a little bit longer, that it will all be over soon, then he reaches out to console his unpersuaded son.

Later that night
Quartermaine Mansion

Emily tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Or to stop thinking about Lucky. She felt so selfish - his mother had died, and all she could think about was how much she was going to miss him. And how it didn't even seem to matter - he just announced it.

I'm not going to be living here anymore.

No "I'll miss you," or "I don't really want to go." He didn't seem like he even wanted Emily there at all.

She let out an impatient sigh. She tried to tell herself to remember what it was like when her mother died. She didn't want anyone trying to help her, trying to comfort her.

But she wasn't just anyone. At least, she didn't used to be. Before the Cassadines came to town - before Lucky got wrapped up in family intrigue. And forgot about friendly company.

Everybody leaves, Emily silently reminded herself. What's it going to take to get that through your thick skull?

The sudden sound of pebbles against her bedroom window jolted her from bed. She rushed over and opened the blinds, revealing a shivering, disheveled Lucky.

Emily was momentarily thrown - it had been forever since Lucky had visited her like this. She had a flash of their adventures in Arizona, and for a brief, crazy moment, wondered if he was there to ask her to go away with him.

Lucky's insistent rap on the pane broke her from that particular reverie, and she rushed to open the window.

"Hey," Lucky tried to sound casual as he climbed in.

"Hey," she answered back, attempting to be equally blasé.

Lucky averted his eyes, refusing to look at her, the same way he had that afternoon. She tried to get his attention but Lucky continued to examine everything else in her room.

"What are you looking for, Lucky?" she heard herself ask bitterly. "Need something to take with you for the big move?"

"No, I just..."

"What?"

He forced himself to look at her, and for the first time, she noticed the tears in his eyes.

"God, Lucky, I'm so sorry," she soothed, forgetting her anger and reaching out for him.

"No, no, no - don't say that," he snapped, pushing her away.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologizing to me. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Neither did you, Lucky. I was being too sensitive. I know what it's like..."

"Will you please stop saying that!"

His angry outburst stunned Emily, whose eyes welled up.

"God, Emily, I'm so sorry." Lucky cursed himself for lashing out.

"No, Lucky, it's okay. You're right," Emily composed herself. "I don't know what it's like for you. I hated it when people said that to me when my mom died. There I go again - making it all about me. I know it's different for you, and nothing anyone does or says can make it better..."

"She's not dead."

"What?"

"My mom - she's alive."

"Lucky, I know you want to believe that. I did, too," Emily paused. She really had to stop doing that. This was about Lucky, not her. "It's hard to believe it's really happening, but..."

"This isn't denial, Emily. I don't need the five-stages-of-grief lecture. I've heard it too many times."

"I know you don't like to think of yourself as normal, Lucky, but it is something everyone goes through. It's natural."

"There's nothing natural about any of this!" Lucky blasted. "Do you think it's natural to set an explosion to make it look as if your mother and grandmother were killed, and then to tell your own brother that his uncle is the one responsible? To accuse the man who raised him of killing his mother? To do all of that, in order to protect your family from the very thing you've accused them of doing."

Emily gasped, stunned by the ferocity of Lucky's anger and guilt, shaken by the depth of the lie the Spencers were perpetrating on their family and friends. On their own son.

Lucky watched as Emily's expression changed from disbelief to anger to horror. And then to something very close to pity. Now it was Emily who averted her gaze, unable to look at her oldest friend. The room was unbearably quiet, the heavy silence full of accusation and bewilderment.

"I know how this must seem to you, Emily," Lucky finally spoke. "I hated lying to you. That's why I didn't want your sympathy. I felt too guilty. When you came over this afternoon, I wanted more than anything else to tell you. But you left, and then... I… I just couldn't leave, letting you think… "

"That we had anything in common, that we were ever friends, that you are a decent human being?"

The words stung but Lucky knew he deserved them. On some level, he even agreed with her. But she didn't understand the situation. Like everyone, she didn't see the danger lurking on Spoon Island.

"I'm not going to defend myself or my family to you. I know everyone thinks we're paranoid, that the Cassadines are just this kooky clan of eccentrics. But they are much more than that, Emily. They are dangerous. They are killers. And they are after us."

"What about Nikolas?"

"What about him?"

"Is he dangerous? Is he a killer? Because I could have sworn it was Nikolas who saved your sister's life. Or did you forget that?"

"How could I? He reminds me every chance he gets."

"And because of that, because he could do the one thing you couldn't, the one thing you wanted most in the world, you don't feel any remorse for letting him think his mother is dead?"

Lucky tried to shrug it off. "He won't care. He lived his whole life without her. He tells her that over and over again."

"And you believe him?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because he's your brother, Lucky. You said so yourself, just now."

"I did not. Nikolas Cassadine is not my brother. He never will be."

"Certainly not after this. Congratulations, Lucky - you win. You get to keep your family, your mother, your sister. And tear his heart out in the process."

"Better his than mine."

"God - I don't even know you anymore. You know, before you got here, I was trying to figure out how you could just cut me out of your life so easily. But now I know. If you're not family, if you're not a Spencer, then you're no one. You don't matter."

"Yeah," Lucky admitted. "That's what I grew up believing. And what I still believe. I'll do whatever I have to..."

"Whatever your father says, you mean."

"Whatever we have to, to keep our family safe. But it's not true that you don't matter to me, Emily. Why do you think I'm here?"

"I don't really know, Lucky. What do you want me to do with this information? You think I'm going to keep this secret, that I'll be able to see Nikolas and not shout out the truth to him?"

"Emily, you can't tell him," Lucky panicked. What the hell had he been thinking, rushing over here, explaining himself to Emily. Breaking practically every rule in the Spencer handbook. For what? To clear his conscience? It would take more than that. "You just can't," he insisted, less forcefully.

"If you didn't want me to tell him, then why the hell did you tell me?" Emily questioned. Lucky had no answer - he just kept insisting that Nikolas couldn't know. With each utterance, he sounded less and less certain. "Oh my god," Emily blurted. "You want me to tell him. You know this is wrong, but you can't bring yourself to betray Luke. And you knew if you told me, then I would tell him."

"No way," Lucky shook his head vehemently. "You're crazy."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Look at me, Lucky." Emily lifted his chin so she could peer into his eyes. Those beautiful blue pools that she spent way too much time thinking about, that reflected every tortured or joyful emotion he felt. The eyes that she would do anything for.

Except this.

"I won't tell Nikolas," she promised, noting the relief and then the wariness reflected in Lucky's gaze.

"Why not?"

"Because you will."

"I will?"

Emily nodded an unwavering smile of reassurance and support.

"I don't think so, Emily… "

"I do."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you know it's the right thing to do. Because you are a decent human being, Lucky. And you want to be a good brother. And son."

Lucky winced at the implication. "He'll never forgive me."

"Nikolas?"

"My father."

"You're just doing what he taught you, Lucky. You're protecting your family."

"I don't even know what that means anymore. And if I do this," he paused. "When I do this, I'm not even sure I'll have a family."

"Of course you will, Lucky. Your father loves you more than he hates the Cassadines."

"You're sure about that?"

Emily's heart ached at the uncertainty in Lucky's voice. "I'm sure."

"Well, I guess we're about to find out."

"What - where are we going?" Emily let out a little yelp as Lucky reached for her hand, dragging her to the window.

"To find Nikolas. I can't do this on my own, Emily. I'll lose my nerve. Please - come with me."

"Right now? Don't you need like a plan or something?" Suddenly, Emily wasn't so sure Lucky should do this. She knew it was the right thing, but she also knew it would change everything.

"Rule Number One…"

"Do the unexpected," Emily recalled, turning to get her coat. She swallowed her doubts and gave Lucky a reassuring smile.

After tonight, who knew what to expect?

Fun with SVU

2005-12-07T20:50:52Z

I haven't updated in a while, but I posted this on TWoP and thought some of my flist might enjoy it:

Spoof of an upcoming SVU episode in which the SVU Executive Producer says Benson and Stabler "will have a story where they take stock of their seven years together."

They are also supposed to have an episode where it's just B/S in a car, on a stakeout. As soon as I heard about that, I got cringent images of a clipshow, SVU-style. You know, like they did on Friends occasionally, to give the writers and cast a break from their onerous schedules. Can't you just picture it?

SVU Episode 7:17 Stalemate

Scene: A cold, dark Manhattan alleyway. Late model sedan, strewn with coffee cups and takeout bags.

Stabler: Olivia, can you shut your window or move that rainbow flag, please. Aside from the fact that it's drawing attention to us, and we're trying to be inconspicuous, it's blocking my cross and mini-Virgin-Mary statue.

Benson: Even though I'm straight (ignores Elliot's snicker and checks hair and makeup in sideview mirror), I have sympathy for the downtrodden. So I can't just move the flag. It's part of me. That's what makes me so much better than you at... well, just about everything. I'm Everywoman.

Stabler: Well, I'm CATHOLIC! And being Catholic means believing in certain things. Even if they go against everything you've seen, learned and expressed for most of your professional life.

Benson: Yeah, remember back when you used to be not so Catholic. Those were the days. (They both smile and we flash to clips of Elliot from Abomination and Bad Blood, in which he voices concern for and outrage on behalf of gays and clip from Monogamy where he does NOT freak out about abortion. Cut back to them looking bewildered.)

Benson: What the hell happened to you?

Stabler: Pot weasels.

Benson: What? Did you just say pot? Elliot, do you have a drug problem?! Because I'm a certified drug abuse counselor. I talk to people who are confused and helpless and need help and lack of confusion. It's what I do.

Stabler (defensively, fingering joint confiscated from Fakeleen): No. I don't need counseling. And if I did, why would I go to you? When was the last time you spoke to me without seeming annoyed? I manage not to sneer at you, despite having to look at your hair everyday.

Benson: My hair? There's nothing wrong with my hair. (Checks mirror again.) Believe me, I know hair. I've been with a lot of women... at salons! And plus, I'm straight, so I just know. Besides, you're hardly in a position to be making such insults. At least I have all of my hair.

Stabler: Yours and Miss New Jersey's. (Benson harrumphs and checks mirror again.)

Stabler: Let's talk about how much you've changed. You were so young and naive when we first met (cut to baby Olivia clips from S1). And then you grew into a tough, no-nonsense cop. (Montage of S2-4 Butch Benson.) We interrogated and fought and perp-slammed as equals. (Cut to glory year clips from S2-S4). Well, okay, maybe I did most of the perpslamming. But now, you're like a big old girl. You tear up at the drop of a hat, you use more hair product than Fin and you keep talking about kids. I don't know who you are anymore!

Benson: You're just mad because you can't lord your family over me now. You're just another single father, no family, no kids. But I guess I wouldn't understand that! (Cut to montage of Stabler "If you had kids..." comments.)

Stabler: Understand it? You practically took it worse than I did.

Benson: Can you blame me? You ruined the best thing that ever happened to me, I mean, you and left me without a backup family to use when convenient and feel superior to the rest of the time. You ignored my wise and sensitive words and managed to lose your family. Did you even think about how that would affect me? No. You never even told me. And then, months later, you actually consulted another woman professionally. And not just any woman - a woman who was my first lover, er, friend. (Cut to clips of Rebecca Hendrix).

Benson: You didn't even come to me, even though I told you many times you could talk to me and that I would listen and be there for you. (Cut to Monogamy clip of Olivia telling Elliot to talk and then cutting him off). It's not my fault you can't recognize me for the perfect cop and friend and human being everyone else sees. (Cut to clips of S6-7 Benson's constant looks of irritation and continual loop of "You have great kids" in rote response to unStabler.)

Benson: And you're always so mean to me even though I do nothing but support you. (Cut to clips of Stabler supporting Olivia from Abuse and Inheritance and Wrath, contrast with Benson "supporting" him in Hooked (rebound comment), Grief, Haunted.) You have no sensitivity or subtlety. I don't know how you'd manage without me.

(Cut to clips of Stabler with Munch, Fin, Alex or alone - from Pandora, Execution, Rooftop, Resilience, Angels, Parts)

Stabler (snidely): Yeah, I don't know what any of us would do. We'd probably have to just shut down the unit. Thank goodness for your ever-present calm restraint and clear thinking. (Cut to clips from Wrath, Abuse, Escape and Storm)

Stabler: The face of perfection.

(The phrase triggers both Stabler and Benson to think of Alex. Cut to S2-4 Cabot clips. The detectives are lost in dreamy thought then grimace as an ungodly succession of ever-blonder but never-wiser Casey clips flashes at warp speed.)

Benson/Stabler in unison: God, I miss Alex.

(They look at each other and slowly smile. Elliot turns the key in the ignition.)

Stabler: We're not going to get this guy tonight.

Benson: If we leave now...

Stabler: ...we can be there for breakfast.

(Cut to exterior shot of Altoona Days Inn, Room 69 - gardenview, kingsize bed.)

THE END

I've definitely been out here, reading, and I owe some folks posts. I haven't been in the LJ mood lately, but I'm getting back in the swing of things. I missed all you guys!

These lips are made for pouting...

2005-11-23T08:22:05Z

SVU spoiler lines, explaining the scene from the preview - in the continuing melodrama now known as The Canonization of Oliska:

Stabler: You have lost your mind
Benson: So the girls are safe. For now. But what about the rest of the city? There's anthrax out there somewhere. Nicky is the key to finding it.
Stabler: You don't think the Feds questioned her all night.
Benson: Nicky is a traumatized 8-year-old who's been kidnapped and molested after watching her mother die. (Pause) I know how to talk to her. It's what I do.

She exits. A beat. Then Stabler follows her.

Because, you know, Stabler doesn't know anything about how to talk to kids. It's not like he has any. Or has a job where he actually helps kids, too.

I know I haven't updated in a while, and this is probably a bizarre way to step back into the fray, but I had to post these for baby_sis. Another entry in the "Whose lips are poutier?" sweepstakes:

I like to think of the first one as afterglow:

Happy Thanksgiving to anyone out there who's celebrating the big day. Turkey, mmmm.

"I stayed in the city tonight."

2005-09-05T20:46:32Z

The six words that launched a thousand fanfics. Or, at least the beginning of one. I wish it had spawned more.

I had to post my Episode 11 - Monogamy (Elliot opens up; Olivia shuts him down) thoughts in a separate post, because, well, I'm vain that way. Sorry for spamming, but seriously, this was a key episode in the Arc That Went Nowhere, aka Elliot's MidSVULife Crisis. So many wonderful or wincerful moments:

1. The aforementioned "I stayed in the city tonight" line. Such intrigue in such a simple sentence. Where did he stay? Who was he with? Which blond(e) lawyer do you picture him with - Beecher or Cabot?

The Season 6 equivalent of that line is Olivia's, "I called your house, I called your cell, I called the squadroom. You didn't answer so I came to ~~stalk~~ look for you." (Which reminds me, as always, of Caliban's brilliant commentary on said S6 line: I also think that all the stalking is rubbing off on Liv. "I tried you at home, on your cell phone, then I called the station." OMG, where were you? We were supposed to watch Gilmore Girls over the phone. WHY DIDN"T YOU CALL ME?

2. Maureen can't file her own fucking application.
I have to say, after all the Maulivia discussion recently, that brief little O/Moment was jarring.

But seriously, would Olivia really ever be attracted to a girl who can't even complete a fucking college application properly? To a college in the same fucking city!

3. Stabler works his mojo
That scene where Elliot and Olivia go to the junkie's apartment, and he turns on the full Stabler sex smirk is priceless. Elliot/CM is rarely allowed to be so sexual on SVU, and it's such a shame. Because the way he leans in and lowers his voice and tilts his head and ravishes her. Oops, got carried away there. And another great line. "I'm into that - you're friend can watch." Hee.

4. "That's what you do - you shut people out."
Yes, folks, the most egregious and outrageous example of SVU pot/kettle, in which one Olivia Benson chastises her partner for not talking to people, for not letting others in. And when he manages not to scream that she does the same fucking thing, but instead slowly and deliberately tries to explain to her what's wrong, what he's feeling, what does Olivia do?

Apparently, she remembers an important hairwing-trimming appointment she missed or useless scarf buying excursion she booked, because she stands up, tells him CK is right, that he does shut people out and that if he doesn't stop, he'll lose "the best thing he ever had."

Hopefully, bookies will still pay out, since Olivia won that bet, albeit three years later. But it never seems to occur to her at the time that what Elliot is struggling with might just be that his marriage has not, in fact, turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. Or that it was almost physically painful for him to share that with her, so perhaps she should take more than the three minutes she slotted him in order to let him express what it was she badgered him into. And then take an extra, I don't know, five minutes to come up with something better than, "Your chemistry-free wife is right. You're screwed!"

ACK! This is the woman currently being held up by the SVU powers-that-be and the majority of squeeing fandom as a lioness/mother bear/model of caring and compassion.

5. Gravelly-voiced Alex. Yay for the flu!

6. Other great lines
Stabler: "She's coming. If you want to leave, go ahead."
Benson: "Or you could stop being a jerk."

Junkie: "I don't have a boyfriend."
Stabler, with a throaty snark and smirk: "Come on, a girl like you?"

Stabler to Jack Tripper: "Yeah, that's a real bite in the ass, isn't it. Think of all those new labels you'll have to make."

I can't remember the other ones. But damn, I love this episode. Will be back with more, no doubt.

ETA: Just so you know, I did actually leave the marathon, er, house, today. I actually sat at the beach and read something non-fandom-related. An actual book, I tell you! And I didn't even melt.

It's SVU on USA!

2005-09-05T11:49:23Z

Yes, it's a Monday holiday and i'm up earlier than on a working Monday. Well, technically, I still haven't gone to sleep, so that's celebratory, I guess. I'm watching the USA SVU marathon, which is chock-full of episodes from the Glory Days. Season Three goodness - lean, not-always-mean Stabler, unwinged Benson and be-spectacled Cabot.

Speaking of the HToL, I think slammerkinbabe was going to try to organize a ficathon for hurricane relief. So I can finally procure theholyinnocent's services legally. Or, you know, at least for a good cause. There is already a community doing this: fandom_charity, but there aren't any SVU (or Oz) volunteers that I can see. If anyone knows the authors of "Fide et Amour" (unfinished SVU classic) or "Nine Tenths of the Law" (unfinished Oz masterpiece), I'll pay big bucks for those to be done. For the victims, people, for the victims!

Random marathon observations:
Episode 1 - Sacrifice (Saved by the Bell star does gay porn):
What's the deal with that odd moment where Fin goes all T!I!P! on Olivia in the squadroom. Olivia even asks what's up, but no one explains. And then it's just dropped. I hate it when they do shit like that. (I've been up all night, my vocabulary isn't at its best.)

I never noticed before, but when Stabler is offering theories as to why Mark Paul Saved-by-the-Bell was attacked, he says, "Jealous gay co-star, maybe?" while looking at BD Wong/Huang. Hee!

Is it wrong to love the moment when Stabler "frisks" Mark-Paul SBTB and slams him against the wall?

Oh, and though it will never be counted in his favor, I will note that Stabler is exceedingly sensitive to the gay cop at the beginning and never shows any repulsion or disgust for either the gay porn being discussed or the ex-teen-stud doing it.

Episode Two - Repression (Amy Irving's family is fucked):
Ah, those early seeds of St. Oliska. Benson annoyingly and unperceptively snaps when Elliot mentions the daughter has a history of making up stories, then snaps again at the bar when the guys are bemoaning said lying daughter's messing up their case. Thank god Olivia's on the squad, to remind them that the daughter might be a rape/incest victim. The other three just think she's a lying whore!

Despite the nascent martyrdom of Olivia, Arbiter of Victimhood, the Stabler/Benson partnership is running like the smooth, sexy machine it should be. Sigh - the good old days.

Because Amy Irving is so distracting in this episode, I always forget how depressing the denouement is.

The black leather jacket. MH should be forced to wear it in every episode.

Ha - they all look like crap at the end. Cragen, Cabot, Benson and Stabler all look so guilty and shamed. It's very rare for all of them to be deflated. I swear, Alex looked like she was about to let loose some pretty crying.

Episode Three - Inheritance (Olivia T!I!P! but it's done well):
Mobay!

Dr. Obvious is on the case! God, I despise Huang. The whole "I heard you order takeout once" conversation is just bizarre, but I love it because Stabler is completely unmoved by Huang's faux outrage.

Look how sensitive Stabler is, first asking Olivia if she's okay and then trying to draw her out. Yes, later on today we'll be treated to the classic pot/kettle scene where St. Olivia berates Elliot for not opening up to people. Oh, how I'll laugh. If I'm awake.

I love Olivia going behind the counter and pressing a few keys and printing out the pharmacist's delivery schedule. Classic Hollywood computerizing.

I love this gray suit Alex is wearing. Yes, I know you can't see it necessarily, but still. I felt the need to say that. I also love the way she rips the pseudo-science apart. So much more effective than Casey's attempts in whatever that dreadful episode was in S5. Also, I think this is one of Alex's best summations, despite the stagey "eyeglass removal." And one of those scenes that makes me wince/chortle when I picture Casey trying to deliver the lines.

And aww, the only Huang scene I've ever really liked. (Well, besides the Huang!HeadSmash!) "You don't hurt people, Olivia. You protect them." She needed to hear that, and he managed to say it sincerely and effectively.

Wouldn't it be interesting if the PWs had the balls to pursue Olivia's fear of the violence within, now that Stabler is going to be "launched on a new path." (Which is frightening in itself.) But we can't tarnish that GoldenHalo, can we?

Episode Four - Tangled (Surprise party gone awry):
This is the kind of good "ordinary" episode SVU used to do so well. No social issues, no T!I!P! But good cast integration, some great lines ("I doubt he was calling her for urine samples" is one of my all-time favorite Cragen lines) and a plot that has layers but isn't ridiculously labyrinthine. (Though, as I recall, it does have that last-minute trick they are so fond of.)

Also, I'm kind of obsessed with the actress who plays Lara. At least, whenever this episode is on, I have to watch it. Something about her voice gets to me. I think she's on the Gilmore Girls now, but I'm not sure.

Oh, look - Olivia's found a victim she doesn't believe! Poor Mrs. Kleburg, doesn't fit into Olivia's Victim Criteria.

Love the scene where Olivia is going on and on about the happy couple and Elliot's reciting the warrant legalese, then the sad (and foreboding), "Do any marriages last? My god, you've been married for 17 years..." Sigh. Poor E/CK. The writing was on the PW wall, even if it was obscured by marijuana haze for a few years.

"Here, pussy, pussy." Hee! Also, what I now consider Munch's meta comment: "They're freaky little creatures; they lurk!" I often feel that way about TWoP lurkers. Don't get me wrong - I lurked for a long time. But it's creepy when people on other boards or on LJ parrot your TWoP posts back to you.

Oh, good - Counterfeit! Normally, I hate the Stabler-lite episodes, but this means I can go to sleep, er do some errands. (I saw the best parts - Olivia in The Dress and "Naw, baby, Boy Scout. Always prepared!") And I can happily skip Stolen (I don't need a Cragen T!I!P!) and Ridicule. See you on the other side of noon, folks!

Oh, one more thing - how annoying are those CI ads? They make me not want to watch a show even more than I already don't watch it.

Episode Seven - Ridicule (Elliot's character gets fucked by the writers)
I'll stipulate upfront that Elliot is an ass throughout this episode. But I loathe the way Olivia treats him - going to Cabot and Cragen about the open rape without telling him and then giving him that smarmy "So Cabot wants to see us" ultimatum. And of course, the writers gave Olivia and Alex all the proper, self-righteous lines, while making Elliot look like a complete dick. (The little eyeroll between Alex and Olivia is especially galling, as I don't think Olivia and Elliot ever rolled their eyes at Alex, mostly because Olivia never took Elliot's side against Alex. She was always too busy looking panicked. )

Elliot's assholic behavior is similar to the way he acted in Fallacy, another episode in which he was made to look overly reactionary so Olivia could be the crusading champion of the underdog. Now some might say that makes Elliot's behavior in character, but I disagree. While I think it is totally in character for Elliot to be skeptical of the guy's story, I don't think he'd be so openly contemptuous. And I think he'd be smarter about dealing with Olivia.

I've said many times on TWoP that I think it would have been more interesting if they'd allowed either Alex or Olivia to have some doubts about the guy's story. But that would have been too far off the gender-determined highway.

Illustrated Oz/SVU fic

2005-08-26T03:54:49Z

The extremely talented and generous womblyfriend volunteered her comic-making skills as part of an auction to raise money for a bunch of LT fans who are doing the the Race for the cure. I was the lucky winner of her talents, and she made incredible, wonderful illustrated pages like this one, to go along with DNR, the Stabler/Beecher crossover fic I posted here.

Click on the pic and then again to see it in (very big) full size.

	DNR page 1
	DNR page 2
	DNR page 3
	DNR page 4

Big, big thanks to Wombly for the care and imagination and attention she put into the pages. I love the way she used the perfect images from Oz and SVU to convey the moment. There are some wonderful details in there - I've told her my favorites (and no, they aren't ALL on Page 2), but I'd love to see what you guys pick out. Mostly, I am just thrilled to see such a wonderful illustration with my words as part of it.

Also, thanks to fanfromfla and cheights for the screencaps Wombly utilized to create the pages. Edited to add special thanks to maverick4oz for running the auction and to fanfromfla for being the money woman. And to everyone doing the actual Walk.

I guess I have to finish the story now, huh?

Barely breathing muses ahead

2005-08-02T20:28:58Z

There's creativity in the air! Or maybe it's just pollen. Anyway, after reading great new ficlets from cheights and rileyc and a whole new chapter from caliban22170, I decided I needed to jumpstart my long-dormant writing engine. I think there was a meme a while back, where you were supposed to post something from your WIPs. I can't remember how it went, so I'm just going to post stuff that's been sitting on my hard drive forever and wants to go out for a little ride, in the hopes that it gets my Muses off their lazy, bonbon-eating asses! (I know, you're supposed to be nice to the Muses, but that hasn't been working.)

So sit back, relax, read these WIPs and feel free to tell me to continue, beg me to stop in the name of all that is holy or tell me to find myself a hobby that doesn't involve computers, writing and/or fictional characters.

Fandom: Oz/SVU
Title: DNR
Notes: This was begun for the Cuff 'Em Kinks and Cliches challenge, but sadly never made it as far as the kink. It's chock-full of cliches, though, if that helps :) First line shamelessly stolen (and reworked) from Alexa's Covenant, a classic and sadly unfinished Oz fic. It's my favorite fic-opening-line ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tobias Beecher was a good addict.

He hadn't been a good husband. He wasn't a good father. He might have been a good lawyer, if he had tried, if he had kept his mind on the job. But back then, before, he spent most of his energy, and his brain power, thinking about his next drink - where exactly he would go to get it, how long he would have to stay in the office until he could leave without drawing attention, what excuse he'd make up for his secretary, how he could avoid his father on the way out and then his wife once he got home. If he made it home at all.

He could while away whole hours just anticipating how that first slow slide of scotch would taste. Add to that all the time he spent actually feeling it. And then not feeling, which was, after all, the point.

Then, after, he wasn't good for much of anything. Or anybody. The law wouldn't allow him to return to his job. Gen's parents did their best to keep him away from his kids. In their efforts to keep Toby on the straight (so to speak) and narrow, his family prevented him from making any adult decisions.

Worst of all, his own mind - and his memory - obliterated the possibility of anyone else. Toby would never fall in love again, never get married. Never have a family of his own, a place to call home.

So the past became his addiction. He couldn't drown himself in booze, so he wallowed in memories. In longing and regret. And in guilt - his faithful companion.

Now, lying here, in the dark, he still had all those regrets. And all that guilt. But none of it mattered anymore, now that he had this - the one thing he thought he'd lost forever.

Back when he thought he'd never see Chris Keller again, never touch his skin or feel his lips or taste his cock - back then, Tobias Beecher would have done anything, sworn anything, sold anything, for just one glimpse of his lover.

Then the unthinkable happened. And he got more than a glimpse. He got the whole package. Chris Keller. In the flesh. Alive and well and living in New York City.

Okay, so he wasn't really well. Some nights, he was barely breathing. And technically, his name wasn't Chris Keller. But he was alive. He was getting well. And Toby was never going to leave him again.

Toby had traded one addiction for another. Instead of dwelling on the past, he seized the chance to recreate it.

Initially, Toby had told himself he just wanted to make sure Chris was all right. That first news report had almost done him in. He hadn't even been paying attention to the TV blaring in the background, but he couldn't escape it. Every channel the bartender flipped to had a hysterical reporter covering the breaking news. When Toby finally looked up at the screen, it was Oz all over again. Except with more blood. And in the middle of it, that strong body lying on the ground as the life seeped out of him.

But this Chris Keller had the entire NYPD working for him, and Toby sat at the bar, transfixed, as the forces of good massed to prevent a repeat of unbearable history. Watching the frantic ministrations of paramedics and police, Toby felt an eerie calm. Followed by a familiar rush of adrenaline, and then the first flush of hope he'd had since watching Chris fall that awful day.

All thoughts of the business that had brought him to New York vanished, as the heady beginnings of a plan began to take hold in Tobias Beecher's brain. In minutes, even before the broken and bruised body was airlifted to the hospital, Toby was on the phone. By the time that helicopter touched down, Toby knew this Chris's name (Elliot Stabler), rank (Detective First Grade) and badge number (41589). And that this Chris had one wife, four kids and almost 20 years on the force, 13 in the Special Victims Unit.

What he didn't know, of course, was if it was real, if Chris, this Chris, was real. If he'd somehow become Elliot Stabler, courtesy of the fastest reincarnation ever. Or perhaps the most ironic Witness Protection placement in history, in which a sexual predator becomes a sex crimes cop.

Or if, maybe, probably, it was just a coincidence, and Elliot Stabler simply looked exactly like Chris Keller, but had no connection to him. Or to Toby. Or if Toby should probably leave it at that.

But leaving well enough alone had never been an option once Toby saw his face.

Fandom: SVU
Title: Mr. and Mrs. Smith
Notes: This was one of those ideas that I think would be better served if I gave it to sloanesomething and annakovsky for their SVU A/U game. But I'm too selfish and deluded to give it up yet. If I did, the prompt would be: Elliot Stabler and Alex Cabot, paid assassins

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She loved watching him like this, though she rarely got the chance. Elliot didn't sleep. At least, as far as Alex could see, he didn't. He'd lie in bed, but whenever Alex looked over, he was awake, ever alert for any strange noise or sudden movement that might mean danger or discovery. She knew it was his marine training and his cop sense that kept Elliot on guard, but she wondered whether it was really another way to keep the nightmares at bay. The protective instinct was a good escape from the ravages of conscience and memory.

Anything to avoid that, she sighed knowingly. Wide awake, even after a long, strange, miraculous day and evening that had brought them closer together than ever. But as she slowly recovered from the blissful, orgasmic afterglow, Alex couldn't keep her mind from shifting into overdrive. After months of hard, raw, mind-blowing sex, tonight Elliot had made slow, tender love to her. It was so surprising, and so sweet, that she had felt shy, embarrassed. Even now, she flushed at the memory of his soft lips and gentle touch. When she had tried to change the mood, to regain control, to go back to their familiar games, Elliot simply smiled and kissed her reluctance away.

She couldn't remember how long they'd made love or how many times she came or how long she'd slept. When she woke up, it was still dark and Elliot was still asleep. And still in bed, still holding her. As Elliot slumbered peacefully beside her, Alex tried to bask in the relief, and the joy, she felt. She told herself not to question Elliot's sudden sensitivity. She tried not to wonder what had caused this outpouring of emotion. She couldn't examine his words, because he hadn't uttered any. The usual crude demands and exhortations – which Alex gave as well as she got – were missing. Instead of four-letter words and guttural moans, Elliot was mostly silent. That had been almost as unnerving as his reverent gaze.

Alex shuddered, both aroused by the memory and alarmed at the dawning realization that none of it had been meant for her at all. Because while she was the (officially) dead woman he'd been fucking for months, the ghost Elliot had made love to tonight was his wife.

Fandom: Oz
Title: Fate
Notes: Not quite a drabble, not quite a story. Britney would be proud!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fate.

Was there a crueler, fouler, darker four-letter word in all of the fucking English language?

Fate had brought them together. Even though Vern - speaking of four foul letters - liked to take the credit, there was something bigger at work. Chris was a force of nature. Vern couldn't control him anymore than Toby had.

At least, that's what Toby told himself whenever he thought about Chris lying dead on the EmCity concrete. His words hadn't sent Chris over that railing, just as his actions hadn't pushed Cathy Rockwell into the path of his car and his neglect hadn't driven Genevieve into that garage.

Fate had done all that, and more. And you can't fight fate, he reasoned, taking another swig. Not in Oz.

Another CM interview from Dublin

2005-07-31T05:15:58Z

Posting the full text here for the unregistered folks. Will add profound thoughts and pretty bon mots later:

Bridge over troubled water
Christopher Meloni may have found success as the star of hit American crime series Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, but is relieved to swap the grind of television for the Dublin stage, says Mick Heaney

By the time he finishes shooting, says Christopher Meloni, he is beginning to feel the strain. For six years, the New York-based actor has been the star of one of America’s most popular crime dramas, his smouldering presence helping make Law & Order: Special Victims Unit a top 10 ratings hit. But his success, it seems, has not come without a price.

For one thing, there is the relentless grind of the show. Meloni calculates that he spends 14 hours a day on set, five, sometimes six days a week, nine months a year, learning his lines on the hoof while episodes are shot in and around New York. However, the hard work is not the only problem: his role as Detective Elliot Stabler takes the biggest toll.

So involved does Meloni get in his performances as the earnest, committed cop investigating grim sex crimes that by the time the series wraps, he finds himself drained. So when his agent told him about the job on offer at the Gate theatre in Dublin, playing the lead in Arthur Miller’s drama A View from the Bridge, Meloni leapt at it.

“Every time I finish a season, I do something to basically scrub away this character,” Meloni says. “I shaved my head into a mohawk one time. I leave immediately and I go travel. This time I wrapped on Thursday, spent Friday with my children, caught a flight on Saturday night and was here on Sunday. So I’m pretty crispy.

“But you’ve got to get away from this person (Stabler) and this dark, intense place that you are in. And you’ve got to get away from what I call lock-and-load shooting: if your rehearsal takes more than 15 minutes you’re behind schedule. It ain’t deep. You’re trying to cook gourmet food in a fast food restaurant and there’s an inherent pressure to that. When you’re offered a play and you come here, you know you’re going to be able to have an incubation period, really go to a deeper level. It’s a great challenge.”

While he may need to get away from this on-screen character, the intensity Meloni brings to his role in Law & Order: Special Victims Unit seems no accident. In person the 44-year-old actor is far more expressive than his taciturn fictional alter ego — there is much balling of fists and grimacing whenever Meloni makes a point — yet they share a sense of yearning and vaguely suppressed dissatisfaction.

Meloni of course would seem to have little to be unhappy about. He certainly does not want for money or fame: even in a quiet corner in a Dublin hotel he is spotted by two middle-aged American fans, whom he dutifully acknowledges. But as he prepares for his first stage role in six years, he insists success is not what drives him.

“I think I’m healthily ambitious, but I do know others who do things that I would never dream of to forward their ambition,” he says. “As you get older, celebrity for me is like candy. The first bite is awesome, it’s the best chocolate you’ve ever had. So you have a second bite and it’s pretty darn good. Third bite I don’t feel so good. Fourth bite I’m sick to my stomach.

“Then you find yourself doing Arthur Miller, busting your hump; it’s so miserable, you’re hating it. And then you’ve moments of clarity and beauty and majesty, and all of sudden you’re connected. It’s almost like touching God. So to answer your question: it’s the work.”

Meloni’s ambivalence about his career is perhaps unsurprising. For years, he says, he doubted whether it was even the right vocation. The product of a comfortable suburban upbringing in Washington DC, Meloni was taking a history degree when he caught the acting bug. Encouraged to pursue a conventional career, he resisted the lure of the stage.

“The first acting class I took, not only was I bit by it, I also had the sense that I was good at it,” he says. “But I didn’t allow myself to accept that; whether it’s because you’re not allowed to have that type of ego, or you’re not allowed to be an actor. I think it’s like someone having to come to terms with being gay before finally coming out of the closet. It took a while to let the penny drop in my soul and finally commit to it. I don’t commit to things lightly, I guess.”

Meloni’s dedication was tested early on. After moving to New York in the mid-1980s the young actor initially supported himself as a bartender and bouncer, before finding better paid work in commercials and “really horrible” theatre gigs. Even after he got his first real break in 1990 — in the television mini-series The Fanelli Boys — and moved to Los Angeles, he found himself in the doldrums.

“I was in LA five years and met my wife there, but New York was just tugging at my soul, so I had to go back. And I had no prospects, I had nothing. But this is just like Hollywood: it’s like trying to date the popular girl who always blows you out. As soon as you ignore them they come calling. I haven’t been unemployed since I moved out of there.”

His move paid dividends: Meloni’s career took off after he was cast in five episodes of NYPD Blue in 1997. His performances were so striking he soon found himself in the HBO series Oz, the cable channel’s ground-breaking prison drama, which laid the path for The Sopranos with its sex, violence and profanity. Meloni played a bisexual serial killer, a role so outré that other actors may have baulked at it. Meloni, however, revelled in the challenge: “Oz, I loved it: that ability to play the extremes of the human condition.”

Meloni seems less excited by his subsequent — and more profitable — work in Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. Since Dick Wolf, the creator of the original Law & Order series, cast him as the hero of the franchise’s 1999 spin-off, Meloni has constantly been trying to add back notes of moral ambiguity — children conceived out of wedlock, tattoos that hint at a wild past — to a character originally scripted as a strait-laced cop. Odd though it seems, Meloni is not overly concerned about being identified professionally with his character: he seems more anxious about being limited by the confines of American network television drama.

“I have worried about getting pigeon-holed, but now I think I’ve done enough weird, offbeat stuff not to be. And I also know that I do things for the right reasons: I’ve made my money, so I don’t have to say yes to anything. I think just to have a worthwhile show on network television is very difficult because of the natural constraints that the advertisers put on you. It is what it is: those are the waters you’re swimming in. But I just find it more interesting outside that box.”

While he talks of his desire to pursue a career on the big screen — “I’ve always wanted to do film, but for whatever reason, I’ve yet to pop that” — Meloni seems happier doing his own thing rather throwing himself further into the mainstream. Not because he is a rebel, one suspects, but because he is more of a self-absorbed outsider. Discussing politics, for instance, Meloni is scornful about George W Bush’s dismissal of the “basic science of global warming” yet the actor has resisted joining broader liberal pressure groups.

“The creative coalition has asked me to jump in, which is a bunch of concerned artists getting together. But it’s tough to be part of a group, because if I’m not on with the whole agenda I don’t feel right about lending my name,” he says.

Similarly, having conquered the small screen, Meloni is considering his future with Law & Order. “Contractually, I’ve got a year and a half left,” he says about the prospect of returning to the grind. “This will be a unique situation: we’ll see on this one. I’ve never worked so hard, having come in already pretty banged up, and there’s also an accumulative effect of doing it for over six years. You’re limping a little bit. It’ s hard to say that but it’s the truth. You get mentally and emotionally beat up.”

As he treads the boards at the Gate, Meloni may be getting ready to leave his small-screen alter ego for good and move to the next stage of his career. “Twenty million people see you on television,” he says. “They’re paying you very good wages to do this and you’ve got all the perks in the world. I’m the luckiest guy in the world and I say a prayer to Dick Wolf every night. But you know, what keeps you going is . . . the stuff. To be able to dig deep.”

A View from the Bridge, Gate theatre, Dublin, previews from Thursday, opens Aug 2

7/24/05
The Times Online

Also, if you haven't already seen them, the CM board has a couple of great reports from the first night of previews for CM's play. And ack! I'm so sad about the CM forum closing. I hope Brian changes his mind!

Some CM press

2005-07-25T06:46:03Z

There were a couple of CM interviews in Irish papers over the weekend. I posted links on TWoP but one of the sites is paid, and BugMeNot.com apparently doesn't have logins, so for those who weren't able to see them, I'm cutting and pasting them here. CM's in fine form - funny and passionate and talkative. And I love how each interviewer, one male and one female, is smitten with him. Can you blame them?

Crossing another bridge

Christopher Meloni has put aside his TV cop hat to star in A View from the Bridge at the Gate Theatre, but even he's not sure why, he tells Arminta Wallace

Christopher Meloni prowls into the foyer of the Gresham Hotel, plonks his tightly rolled copy of the script of A View from the Bridge on a table, pounces on a menu and orders a sandwich and a sparkling mineral water. "It won't make me any smarter, that's for sure," he says. "But it might perk me up a bit . . ." It's almost seven in the evening, which means he has been rehearsing for the best part of nine hours - minus a half-hour for lunch - in the Gate Theatre's new production of Arthur Miller's play. "Boy, is it hard work," he says. "I mean, it's such a tightly-woven, specific, layered . . ."

I hear him talking, saying all the right things about the artistry of the piece, the intensity of the role, and so on and so forth. But - and I'm sorry to have to admit this - I'm not really listening. I'm too busy looking. Boy, am I looking. For years I've been watching Meloni on my television screen every Monday night in the TV cop show Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. And now here is Detective Elliot Stabler, good-guy TV cop extraordinaire, sitting right here, on a couch in the foyer of the Gresham Hotel. A total stranger; yet the voice, the facial expressions, the way he moves his head - all these gestures are, somehow, incredibly familiar. I blink and try to concentrate. "I haven't been on stage in a while," he is saying.

Now this I know about, because I've studied Meloni's biog - and it runs to a lot more pages than just seven seasons of Law and Order SVU. He has done a lot of telly and a fair few movies. He has played a fair few guys with names like Johnnie Marzzone and Bennetto Torello; he was in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Twelve Monkeys and Runaway Bride. In recent years he has been dipping a toe into the indie comedy area. He was, for instance, highly praised for his portrayal of a temperamental chef in Wet Hot American Summer, which was indie enough to be screened at the Sundance Film Festival.

But he doesn't get to do much theatre, does he? "No," he says. "After nine months of the SVU season - 15-hour days, every day - you're just . . ." He is silent for a moment. "You are," he says, after a pause, "more liquid than solid. You're done. They really have to pour you into a wheelbarrow and take you home and say, 'See you in three months'. And I had one day off; and now I'm here." He grins Elliot Stabler's boyish grin. "It feels like I'm in boot camp. I mean, it has been this" - he pauses just long enough to create another tense silence, then smiles Stabler's enigmatic smile - "this beautifully hellish experience."

OK. This Stabler thing has to stop. Concentrate. Arthur Miller. Tragedy set amid the working-class Italian-American community. A rough play, is it not? "Yeah - in every sense. Physically, mentally and emotionally. I've been waking up at night and reciting lines and stuff." So why is he doing it? "A mysterious man phoned my agent and said, 'we want to offer Christopher Meloni the role of Eddie Carbone in The Bridge in Dublin'." Another pause. "I thought it would be kind of interesting. No . . ." The pauses are getting longer. "I actually just had this conversation with my wife. I think it's gonna take me a year to give a truthful answer to that question - for now, I just know that it has something to do with a challenge. What kept going round in my head is that" - he quotes - "you have to suffer for your art". Is he serious? He certainly seems serious. In fact, he's coiled as tight as a spring, full of restless energy. I press on.

Now that he is back on stage, does he love it or hate it? "The reason why I hate working in theatre is the tedium of memorisation," he says. "But once that is done, then you feast on this never-ending meal. If you play it correctly, every night is fraught with very high stakes that are very difficult to find in everyday life. Then, what I hate - and love - about theatre is that the performance can be perfect one night and then miserable the next. The elusiveness of it."

SO HOW DOES Meloni see Eddie Carbone, a man who claims to be protecting the innocence of his niece while secretly harbouring what are, shall we say, not strictly avuncular intentions towards her?

"How do I see him? In a word?" He laughs an unnervingly mirthless laugh, then lapses into a silence so long I begin to worry I've seriously offended him. "OK, I'll say this," he finally says. "He's a man who lives in a world of honours and codes. Everybody goes through life believing they follow a structure, or strictures - and then all it takes is a deep passion beyond reason to cause you to break all these time-honoured, death-before-dishonour type codes. So then you wonder, is it just part of the human condition to be living a life of denial. Not expressing fully what you are, what you feel."

Denial, repression, then an explosion of passion. Much of the drama of A View from the Bridge hinges on the cultural conflict between the American branch of the Carbone family and the pair of Italian cousins who arrive as illegal immigrants - a conflict Meloni understands very well. He was born in Washington DC, but his ancestors hail from Genoa. "My parents grew up in that atmosphere," he says. "That you did things a certain way - and nobody ever stopped to question why, until the new generation comes along. See, I have kids, and the first thing that comes out of their mouth is, 'why?' Why?" Before I know it he has gone into character as Eddie, acting one of the central scenes in the play right at me. Which is beyond weird - Eddie on the sofa now, already?

The message, however, emerges loud and clear: this is a play with enormous contemporary resonance. "Oh, absolutely," says Meloni. "It's very much an 'us versus them' thing. And it has a lot to do with what's going on now with Muslim communities. You know, they come over and they stay with their own kind. Well, every generation of immigrants has done that. But then there's a question of how many of their customs are they allowed to bring with them - which calls into question who's right, or what's right. A question of the balance between 'us' and 'them'."

HIS SANDWICH ARRIVES. What is it, I ask. It looks like Thai curry-flavoured scrambled egg. "It's chicken," says Meloni, in a slightly miffed tone. "Do you want some?" I decline. Bad enough to be invading his snack space; I can't very well steal his food into the bargain. In any case, he has already eaten almost half of it and is busy making appreciative mmmm-ing noises. "This is so good," he says. "I'm impressed. Though with how I feel, it could have been a block of cement." With the effect it has on him, it might have been a plate of magic mushrooms. He puts his napkin down and sighs happily. He has visibly uncoiled. Right. Time to talk Elliot Stabler - not a man, I observe, that Eddie Carbone would go out to dinner with.

"Elliot?" Meloni laughs again, but now he sounds much more relaxed. "Nope. But I think Elliot Stabler would be familiar with these guys. He was brought up in Queens. He'd be familiar with this cast of characters. Elliot has a clear compass - his psychological problems are just different from Eddie's, that's all." But isn't Elliot the ultimate good guy? "Well, you know, he has this need for justice, so that he'll sometimes just" - Meloni pushes at a thread on the leg of his jeans, a tiny, obsessive-compulsive movement - "just to get the conviction, you know? If he can tip the scale a little bit he'll tip the scale."

But that's good - isn't it? "But then, you know," argues Meloni, "when is it bad? Where's the judgment about when it's fair to cross the line, and when it isn't? OK, if he hadn't crossed the line that 10-year-old would have been raped. But he did violate the guy's civil rights. It's the balance again, between the rights of the community and the rights of the criminal."

MELONI HAS JUST finished shooting the seventh season of Law and Order: SVU, which will be shown in the US this autumn. Has the character of Elliot changed as the seasons have passed? "Oh, yeah," says Meloni, nodding Elliot's sage nod. "Yeah. We got some fireworks for ya. Stay tuned. Actually," he adds, "and I can say this without trying to sell the show, this past season - the sixth - was our best, but the shows that we've just shot for season seven are better than that."

And how do they all get on - himself, Mariska Hargitay, Richard Belzer, Ice-T and the rest of the SVU cast? "Magnificently," he says. "For opening night I think Richard will be there. Mariska was going to be, but she has to go back to the States and do publicity. She still might fly back. And both producers are flying from LA. And two writers. It's really respectful, fun, professional - and what I mean by that is that everybody's always digging for the common good of the show, for ways to do it correctly; it's a great place to go to work."

Oh, good. So he's going to keep doing it, then? "Well, my contract is about up," he says. "Hmm. You know, I've been doing it a long time." Now this is not the ending I wanted for this particular scene. It's all very well for A View from the Bridge to end in tragedy, but SVU without Elliot? Eeek. Change the subject.

There is a somewhat intriguing item on Meloni's filmography. In fact, it's the first item on his filmography. Pretty Persuasion, it says. 2005. And then, "scenes deleted". What's that about? He's nodding vigorously. "Yeah," he says. "Those sons of bitches. I say that with love, naturally. I took off all last summer to do that. I read the script, loved the script, they wanted me for a role - and I couldn't do it because of a conflict. So I said, 'Give me this other role'. One scene. I loved it because it was a real skeezy guy, you know? And it was fun. Bad hair, bad moustache; the description was, I was 'a little troll'. I had 'em lift my desk up so it came to here" - he indicates chest level - "and I was, like, shining my shoes, size six shoes, real tiny.

"But they called and said - and, you know, I understood it - they said it 'broke the rhythm of the storyline'." He sniffs. "So that's the long version of what happened. The short version is, they cut me out. I'm still pissed off. And I understood it, the reason they gave. Well, either that, or I sucked." He leans back and grins broadly. "What did I tell ya? You have to suffer for your art."

A View from the Bridge opens at the Gate Theatre, Dublin, on August 1, with previews from July 28

From The Irish Times

A view from the hunk
N recent years, it has become all the rage amongst American TV stars to make a career detour onto the London stage. The likes of David Schwimmer and Brooke Shields have lead the stampede and helped the West End out of a lean period, while at the same time gaining for themselves a credibility that no amount of canned laughter could provide.

Sadly, Ireland seemed to enjoy no overspill of superstar invaders - but this summer, a Dublin theatre has finally lured one of the gods of the small screen to these shores. Christopher Meloni - the alpha-hunk from Law and Order SVU and Oz - will appear in Arthur Miller's A View From the Bridge at the Gate.

Clearly, the addition of a recognisable name to the cast was aboon for Michael Colgan and co, but what was in it for Meloni?Cash incentive?

"Are you kidding me?" Meloni splutters between mouthfuls of the chicken sandwich he's wolfing down during a break in rehearsals. "Trust me, buddy, it wasn't the money. You know, no matter what I say, the motivation is going to sound hokey, a little holier-than-thou even - but I did it for the love of the exploration.

"I was as exhausted as a motherf**ker. I got one day off after filming nine months of SVU [Luddites note, it stands for Special Victims Unit]. But you just don't turn your back on Arthur Miller and an opportunity like this. It's going to be painful - a huge challenge for me," he adds.

Painful, perhaps, because the stage brings up a welter of old memories for Meloni. That was where he started out 15 years ago, an impoverished actor in New York. "I was working part-time as a bouncer, performing in these stupid f**kin' plays with eight people on the stage and four people in the audience. I went hungry sometimes. It wasn't a whole lot of fun."

Weary of less-than-lucrative art house theatre, and just as tired of cracking heads together for $40 a night, Meloni found a more natural setting for his big muscles and megawatt smile in TV adverts.

"You name it, bro, I advertised it," he sighs. "Some of it was totally cheesy. I did this commercial in Germany for a washing machine repair guy. When the housewife takes the clothes out of the machine she goes: 'Aii, Schmutzraender!' [Oh no, stains!] And I look at her and repeat: 'Aii, Schmutzraender!' I went around Hamburg, trying to pick up chicks with this one lame phrase. Needless to say, I never got laid in Hamburg."

Even with a language barrier slowing him down, it's difficult to believe that Meloni would have trouble getting laid anywhere, anytime, and with anyone. Several female friends of mine swooned at the mere mention of his name, and one even considered asking me to bring along a photo of her in the hope of getting a date.

Get in line, I told her. If anyone was going to show this chiselled, gentle-yet-tough American around Dublin, it was me.

Thanks to his role as Keller - the bisexual murderer in Oz, the deeply homoerotic HBO drama - Meloni has developed into something of a sex symbol for gay men. Attitude magazine, the popular gay glossy mag, has featured him a few times; and in a knowing wink to his new fan base, he once staged a red carpet man-on-man snog with Oz co-star Lee Tergesen.

"It was the whole 'Tom of Finland' fantasy for gay men," he concedes. "But girls, guys . . . whatever. It's just nice that people are watching," he tells me. "Oz got me the gay guys and the fat girls [Keller married a 'well-built' lady in the series], and then on Law and Order I got the other girls."

Sadly, neither the girls nor the guys are really in with a shout. While he's bemused at the female attention and he'll laughingly concede that Tergesen was "an amazing kisser", Meloni has been happily married for 11 years - to Sherman Williams, a dead ringer for Sharon Stone.

The couple live in New York City and have two children, Sophia and Dante ("we wanted something Italian and cultured sounding"), both born to them by a surrogate mother. "We couldn't have kids the normal way. We both knew from day one that these were the steps we were going to take. We just didn't know with whom.

"We went online to surrogacy agencies. We interviewed lots of people - and I have to say, with all due respect, some of them were freaks. I was very leery of the process the whole way through."

But just as Chris and Sherman were getting frustrated with the search, fate intervened.

"There was a friend of ours who worked with a girl who had said she would consider being a surrogate. We met her and right away she was awesome. We were looking for someone who could take care of themselves and it was pretty clear she could.

"It still took over a year after we met her, because we failed to conceive on a couple of attempts. She hung in there for us. I was in the hospital for the births and it was the most amazing experience. Having kids has shown me that there is something more important in life than acting."

His family won't be joining him in Dublin until just before the play opens, and Meloni has been amusing himself between rehearsals in the meantime.

"My first thought when I came here was that I understood why there are so many great Irish writers - because there is something mystical in the air. There's always this cloudy, moody sky and it's challenging. I used to live in LA and it was the opposite of that- always so sunny, so saccharine, so bland."

In what might be a nod to Meloni's background, he tells me the Gate's emissaries put him up in "the Italian Quarter" on the banks of the Liffey. "So they knew that if I was going to steal, I'd be stealing from my own kind," he wryly reasons. (I didn't want to shatter his illusions of multi-ethnic Dublin by telling him the frescoes date back only as far as the Celtic Tiger.)

In A View From The Bridge, Meloni will play Eddie Carbone, an Italian-American, and he admits he will be drawing on his own childhood for the role. "I'm third-generation Italian, but I still have a strong sense of my heritage. There are certain Italianisms that ring very true in this play - the place of the man in the household, the idea of respect . . . of omerta.

"My grandfather was a doctor. If he went to make a house call, he commanded respect - even with the street toughs. I saw how his high-standing in the neighbourhood affected how we were all treated. Even now, I see my old grandmother - who is so frail she's practically pulling herself from appliance to appliance - is still cooking for him, because it's considered that's her job.

"In my parents' house it was more or less the same. It was the woman's job to take care of the kids. In my house, forget it! It's totally different. We eat out a few times a day."

As if to emphasise his Italian origin, Meloni's hands flail and eyes dance as he makes a point. There are long pauses between questions as he considers his response -but quite refreshingly, there is no carefully monitored PR gloss to his statements.

He will riff on any subject - from George Bush ("f**kin idiot") and Kyoto, to his own occasional inability to keep an erection at bay when in a sex scene with an actress. ("Some get offended," he hoots, as he recalls it. "They should consider it a compliment!")

He jokingly - and diplomatically - distances himself from the other American TV stars who are making a name for themselves on the stage. "This is Dublin, not London, goddammit. I'm a step ahead of 'em all. No, seriously, I had great faith in Irish actors, that they'd be hip to the whole theatre thing, and they are. I had no illusions of coming over here as some kind of big shot. It's been a learning experience for me too."

It seems there is more learning to do this sweltering afternoon as it's time for Meloni to return to the Gate for photos and yet more rehearsals.

We leave together and he gives me an arm wrestle of a handshake that like his TV alter egos seems manly, tough and ever so slightly erotic. As if reading my mind - and with the Dictaphone safely switched off - he turns to me with one last thought: "Tell the chick with the photo I said 'hi'."

Christopher Meloni will star as Eddie Carbone in 'A View From the Bridge' with John Kavanagh, Cathy Belton and Laura Murphy. It previews on Thursday, July 28 and opens on Tuesday, August 2. Tickets available from the Gate box office at (01) 8744045

Donal Lynch
Sunday Independent

The Love Train: Special pass for homophobes

2005-07-19T17:22:01Z

What is the deal with the MH board? Normally, I just lurk there. But today's "Don't hate the homophobe - hate the homophobia" post just left me speechless. (Scroll down to the last post on the page, by KatRose, one of the mods.) Well, almost speechless. I had to chime in, of course. There's just no way they'd tell people to be nice to a racist. I know they are trying to avoid ugliness, but it's just not okay to call being gay abnormal. And expecting people not to react to it is just... abnormal! And disingenuous. And fucking irritating.

GIP

2005-07-17T21:14:36Z

I've always wanted to do a gratuitous icon post, and here it is! Yay, me. And yay, lostingeekdom for making this kickass (hee) "I don't need a fucking Emmy" icon for CM. I can't even tell you how bitter the Emmy nominations made me, but I'm pretty sure most of you can imagine. So instead of whining, I'll just giggle at my new icon and stare at pretty pictures like these. (Someone posted them last week on the SVUFiction boards, and I'd never seen them before, even though they are not new.) Enjoy the pretty!