I always find my way by circling in on things, sometimes even when I know where I'm going, so usually I know to leave extra time for driving until the way has settled in so deeply that my conscious mind can't fuck it up. So, yeah, House of Flying Daggers today, and maybe if I leave at 10 am for a 1 o'clock show? That might work.
I'da caught a later show yesterday, but I was overwhelmed with the need to reread all of Anna S.'s Spike/Xander fic, and I may or may not have gotten a little TrickC idea of my own, I'm not sure yet. So far I have about 14 disjointed words and a seething brain full of possibilities, a brain full of seething porn. That's one of the proofs of God, you know. Seething. It is of the good.
Movie! Yes! Getting out of the house! Not staying in and rereading Anna S.'s Xfiles stuff, and maybe Sylvia's, too. No. No! Jeez.
Do people really think JC reads? Popslash, maybe. No, if anyone reads, it's Justin. He reads bestsellers, has a bookmark firmly stuck about a third of the way through The DaVinci Code, and loves Laurel K. Hamilton and books on fashion, although he thought Kyan Douglas's book was sort of useless.
Chris never was much of a reader, even back in college. Too much else going on. Lance can read, but why? He'd rather have people tell him things. And Joey... :)
I'd love to read a story where Joey is this desperate intellectual, trying to plow his way through Ficciones or The Death of the Author on the bus, while Justin pores over over a moisturizer quiz in Glamour, hunching over the little formica table and chewing his bottom lip, and Lance texts somebody on his Sidekick, even though they weren't around then, and JC and Chris throw Crunch n' Munch at each other, screeching and climbing over Joey's back and rumpling the pages of his book, until he gives up and drags out the bottle of tequila, because it's the only way to distract them.