too tired for subject lines

PoI folks, if you haven't heard the (hour-long) 2012 interview with Michael Emerson on nerdist.com, it is very much worth listening to, even if not much is said about PoI (because the interviewers are Lost-obsessed and didn't bother watching the show their interviewee is in now, just saying). He talks a lot about acting technique, which is fascinating, and about his employment background and his marriage, and what it's like to work on the various shows, and what growing old does for you as a person and an actor, and all in that lovely voice. <3

(My husband is a big Nerdist fan; I have probably heard too many episodes of The Thrilling Adventure Hour at this point (though it is fun, and has Nathan Fillion in it, and Joshua Malina, and other cool people) but if you search around there are lots of interesting interviews. And the interviewers are in fact more intelligent than the average. If still annoying.)

I'm still wiped out from yesterday: I did drug the migraine into submission and then I had to drive across the county in the evening (probably not safely) and do a presentation, and didn't get home till 10, and couldn't go to sleep for hours and a gin rickey. (Which is apparently what you drink on the first day of spring. Which is what my talk was about, basically (spring, not gin), so it was appropriate.) And the cat woke me up very early this morning. I really do kind of like public speaking but not when I am high on painkillers and keep having these weird disassociated moments of "oh, I didn't intend to say that. How do I carry this off now?" in the middle of words pouring unhindered out of my mouth. I wonder why it is that I can write with facility and charm and wit and usually a lack of apparent idiocy, and then I think, oh yes, it's called editing. But I guess they liked it.

I have to talk again Saturday at the DC Home and Garden Show, but not for nearly as long at a time, so that's good; I may survive.

obviously not enough sleep

[SECRET HIATUS EPISODES FILE: 2X18.5 GROUNDHOG OF INTEREST]

"I've checked into the bed and breakfast, Finch. Very charming. What do you have for me on our new number?"

"He doesn't have a number, Mr. Reese. All the Machine gave me was a geographic location. But I've been doing some research, and I believe I can now give you more information."

"No social, hm? An illegal immigrant?"

"No, he's American born and bred. A national institution, you might say. Not everyone has a whole day named in his honor, after all."

"Wait a minute--"

"Yes, Mr. Reese. You'll need to move quickly; I've been able to trace multiple threats. The open and legal ones are the least of your worries. One of Elias's mob bosses died of a heart attack shoveling snow; his children are seeking revenge. There's a rogue weatherman, and several landscaping investors--"

"I am not throwing myself in front of a groundhog, Finch."

"One bad prediction should not invite a death sentence. Everybody deserves a second chance, no matter what he's done. Though I have to say I was rather peeved myself when that last unexpected snow shower ruined the shine--"

"Your shoes, Finch? I lost an entire suit to slush damage. I say Phil takes his chances."

"Oh. Well, then."

"...Damn it."

"I thought you'd see it my way, Mr. Reese. I think you'll find our friend in the town park."

"You could have sent Bear, you know."

"He has an unreasonable prejudice against rodents, and he's so far failed to acquire a driver's license. I'm afraid it's up to you."

"All right. I'll do some surveillance tonight, and in the morning..."

[6:00 AM. CLOCK RADIO PLAYS. They say our love won't pay the rent...]