Apr. 29th, 2008

Finished The Bourne Ultimatum. God.

My points of pondering are as follows; I think for me, a lot of movie watching is also a screening and interview process with an eye to the future. That being, the end of the world.

So I was thinking when I first ruminated on this that he's just that damn hot. But there's also this, and it hit me abruptly while considering the future Zombie Rebellion. It's not just the god-so-hot, or the guns, the blowing up things, the competence or the edge of barely leashed rage--it's my instincts and my ovaries. They look at him and say this man will be an excellent provider after the apocalypse. There is a very good chance you will survive.

Because I will be honest with you all; the day I have to hunt for my own food is the day you watch me starve to death. Let's make no mistake here; I can probably shoot it. And that is as close as I will get to it after. I have skillsets I think are valuable on the post-apocalyptic market (When I am told to run away so people with carbines can handle the zombies? I do. When someone says, lock yourself inside and don't come out! I will do so. I can get bloodstains out of almost anything (don't even ask), I can in fact hit a target with both gun and arrow (I ask you make the target larger than a peanut, though), and I can ice skate and snow shoe (should the apocalypse come with an ice age), and given materials, I can build things and fix things provided I understand what they are supposed to do (no, seriously. I can. It's not really useful right now; but when the zombies come? I will totally be. Just make sure you have duct tape around, plz).

No, seriously. It's like McGyver, except, well, Matt Damon, but you know, when you are looking for a mate at the end of the world, you really are going to want to go with someone with some kind of vague sociopathic disorder (so they will shoot the scary people for you quickly and efficiently and not worry about all that moral blah blah blah) or you are left to worry you will be someone he considers scary, or that they are really hungry and haven't seen any mutated deer for days. See how that works? You want someone who can get the electricity back on and fix your car and then when you are kidnapped by the zombies, will totally kill all of them to get you back before a nice lunch of canned beef in the special radiation proof fortress he built out of branches and leftover gum.

I'm not sure how you'd place an apocalyptic want-ad for this, though. I mean, I don't know about the rest of you? But I feel like just in case the zombies (Cthulhu, Ori, Lilith, First Evil, Wolfram and Hart) rise up against us, there should be a plan in place.

So now that I have totally made no sense: what would you list in your post-apocalyptic personal ad? (Let's pretend the Zombies don't touch the internet; Zombies need bad porn too. Please God, let the zombies like the internet).
Okay.

Since the beginning of the year, I've been hit and miss on feeling particularly inspired, and Last Men put me in a bad mood. I thought, well. Fine.

..and in two weeks, I started three stories, one of which just hit six thousand words, teh second twenty thousand, the third staring at me, and I reopened Crimes to add I don't even know how much toward the ending (ending! God. It could actually end!)

I'm sorry--what the hell? I am all about whee writing but I replotted six scenes while trying to sleep and the six thousand word one I started outlining a tentative sequel that involves a lot of roadtripping and hiding from authorities (totally didn't see that coming after mainling Jason Bourne, no).

What. The. Hell?

And now I really want an AU where Marie survives and finds a way to systematically hunt down Jason's killers. Or something. Except it's depressing. Yet weirdly entrancing.

My fingers hurt.

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