I CAN'T WATCH!

It's the gold medal match of the men's wheelchair basketball and I might actually die of nervousness. I think it's finished in the real world, but I can't stop watching the replay to find out.

Canada has Patrick Anderson, the best player in the world. Australia have several very good players, including Troy Sachs, a man who I interviewed in 1999 and who is as tall in his sports chair as I am standing up. When he's standing on his prosthesis, it's just embarrassing. Nothing worse than talking to strange men's bellies.

It is SUCH A CLOSE GAME, with the lead seesawing and excellent play on both sides. There are seven minutes left and I am finding it hard to breathe. Of course, that's mostly because I still have gunk in my lungs, but the tension is NOT HELPING.

To distract myself, let me give you an update of other essential Paralympic news. In rugby, Australia goes up against the US for the gold after an amazing win against Canada, with Canada and Great Britain playing for the bronze. If you have any opportunity to watch either game, I recommend it highly. To describe the play, it's like polo crossed with rollerderby, crossed with football. And a bit of rugby. Played by very fast lunatics.

Oh good grief, one minute ten to go, five points in it. ARGH!

OMG! Australia won! 72:60! And the commentators have gone completely mad! And I cannot blame them in the least. I think Troy Sachs might be having a little cry, and I can't blame him, either, he's been wanting that medal since 1999 at least.

Oh god, now David Weir and Kurt Fearnley are racing the 1500m ... ARGH! Fearnley crashed! It's like watching the Monza Grand Prix all over again as the chairs skid on the wet track! David's taken it, and Fearnley's pushed back from a wipeout to the bronze! Oh I hope Kurt can win the gold in the marathon tomorrow, if anyone deserves it, it's him.

Thank goodness there are only a few hours of coverage a day, I have things that need to be done! At least my Darkfest fic now has a beginning, and an end, and a yawning gap between the two. But it's a step up from just the end!

I CAN'T WATCH!

It's the gold medal match of the men's wheelchair basketball and I might actually die of nervousness. I think it's finished in the real world, but I can't stop watching the replay to find out.

Canada has Patrick Anderson, the best player in the world. Australia have several very good players, including Troy Sachs, a man who I interviewed in 1999 and who is as tall in his sports chair as I am standing up. When he's standing on his prosthesis, it's just embarrassing. Nothing worse than talking to strange men's bellies.

It is SUCH A CLOSE GAME, with the lead seesawing and excellent play on both sides. There are seven minutes left and I am finding it hard to breathe. Of course, that's mostly because I still have gunk in my lungs, but the tension is NOT HELPING.

To distract myself, let me give you an update of other essential Paralympic news. In rugby, Australia goes up against the US for the gold after an amazing win against Canada, with Canada and Great Britain playing for the bronze. If you have any opportunity to watch either game, I recommend it highly. To describe the play, it's like polo crossed with rollerderby, crossed with football. And a bit of rugby. Played by very fast lunatics.

Oh good grief, one minute ten to go, five points in it. ARGH!

OMG! Australia won! 72:60! And the commentators have gone completely mad! And I cannot blame them in the least. I think Troy Sachs might be having a little cry, and I can't blame him, either, he's been wanting that medal since 1999 at least.

Oh god, now David Weir and Kurt Fearnley are racing the 1500m ... ARGH! Fearnley crashed! It's like watching the Monza Grand Prix all over again as the chairs skid on the wet track! David's taken it, and Fearnley's pushed back from a wipeout to the bronze! Oh I hope Kurt can win the gold in the marathon tomorrow, if anyone deserves it, it's him.

Thank goodness there are only a few hours of coverage a day, I have things that need to be done! At least my Darkfest fic now has a beginning, and an end, and a yawning gap between the two. But it's a step up from just the end!

Pilgrims gave me flu!

No, seriously! Months after their orange backpacks left the Emerald City, Sydney is still feeling the impact of the WYD pilgrims' sharing natures. THEY LEFT US THIS FLU! Bastards! And look, even the Catholic News says it's true! Well, likely at any rate.  Apparently the three-week-plus flu that turns to bronchitis is knocking people out across the city, and has been since July, so I am not alone in my feebleness.

Honestly, it was bad enough when it was just nuns trying to plough me to the ground.
 
Bryoney opined that I have been talking too much sport and not enough fandom lately, so three links to make her feel loved. The first is to a very interesting question posed by bewarethesmirk  in her post here. She asks what it is about some styles of writing that immediately succeeds in drawing the reader in. I've blathered on at length in a comment, as have several others, and I think that we're edging towards the total picture, but I am sure that more brains, particularly brains as big as you lot have, will get to the actual answer. Alas, it's flocked, but if you're not on her flist, feel free to chat here.

My dear jadzialove  wrote a story recently in which Weasley brothers engaged in activities of an adult nature only suitable for readers over 18. With each other. We both squealed in a frightened fashion, she even while writing. However, that was nothing compared to this story from The Times. To quote their head and standfirst:

I had sex with my brother but I don't feel guilty

A woman slept with her sibling for years and has good memories. Not many people understand their relationship, she says

I can't say I'm surprised to hear that.

For maximum bemusement, you have to read the comments.

Thirdly, Maya has posted the last chapter of Quality of Mercy, and 

( spoiler alert ... )

Pilgrims gave me flu!

No, seriously! Months after their orange backpacks left the Emerald City, Sydney is still feeling the impact of the WYD pilgrims' sharing natures. THEY LEFT US THIS FLU! Bastards! And look, even the Catholic News says it's true! Well, likely at any rate.  Apparently the three-week-plus flu that turns to bronchitis is knocking people out across the city, and has been since July, so I am not alone in my feebleness.

Honestly, it was bad enough when it was just nuns trying to plough me to the ground.
 
Bryoney opined that I have been talking too much sport and not enough fandom lately, so three links to make her feel loved. The first is to a very interesting question posed by bewarethesmirk  in her post here. She asks what it is about some styles of writing that immediately succeeds in drawing the reader in. I've blathered on at length in a comment, as have several others, and I think that we're edging towards the total picture, but I am sure that more brains, particularly brains as big as you lot have, will get to the actual answer. Alas, it's flocked, but if you're not on her flist, feel free to chat here.

My dear jadzialove  wrote a story recently in which Weasley brothers engaged in activities of an adult nature only suitable for readers over 18. With each other. We both squealed in a frightened fashion, she even while writing. However, that was nothing compared to this story from The Times. To quote their head and standfirst:

I had sex with my brother but I don't feel guilty

A woman slept with her sibling for years and has good memories. Not many people understand their relationship, she says

I can't say I'm surprised to hear that.

For maximum bemusement, you have to read the comments.

Thirdly, Maya has posted the last chapter of Quality of Mercy, and 

( spoiler alert ... )