Patience.
Scroll further down for links to transcripts from: Alias, Andromeda, Battlestar Galactica, Bones, Castle, Doctor Who, Farscape, Firefly, Sanctuary, Stargate and Torchwood.
Patience - and yes, some of what I say is nonsense and I know it, but I say it cos I got something in me and I want to try express it, so if you don't like it, just ignore it. Got it?
Discipline is a small green frog on a stalk of grass/ enables you to hold on to the slippery/ and hang on despite screaming muscles.
Discipline also stands for 'do ingest some constant intelligent plan lacking ignorant, nutty errands'.
Discipline is like when a person gets up every morning to study maths before going to work, just because they couldn't understand the topic.
Discipline is being able to eat healthy when everyone else eats donuts, chips and pizzas, even if your only motivating factor is to keep up the pretense that you are on a diet and have been exercising.
Patience.
There are lots of things that can be done with discipline, but I want to tell you all something else... where to find transcripts for certain TV shows. I can't write transcripts. I've tried and it both takes an atrocious amount of time, but also I'm awful at it. So these are the ones I have discovered so far:
0- Alias (all)
- http://twiztv.com
0- Andromeda
- http://home.neo.rr.com/nikojen/transcript/transcripts.htm
(unsure if all episodes are here - I don't follow this show)
0- Battlestar Galactica
- http://twiztv.com
(unsure if all episodes are here - I don't follow this show)
0- Bones
- http://bonesfansonline.com/transcripts/index.htm
(up to Season 4, Episode 9 The Twisted Bones in the Melted Truck only)
0- Castle
- http://dustjackets.wetpaint.com/page/Transcripts
(up to Season 4 and continuing - transcriber usually updates by end of week)
0- Doctor Who - these are relatively easy to find around the internet and there are a few places you can go. The best place for Doctor Who related information is at: www.combom.co.uk
o- Classic Doctor Who
--- http://dwtpscripts.tripod.com/
(ie up to the 8th Doctor - some episodes missing, lost in the halls of history)
o- 2005 onwards
--- who-transcripts.atspace.com/
--- http://jpgr.livejournal.com/
--- http://www.combom.co.uk/2011/06/doctor-who-series-5-and-6-transcripts.html
... There are some here too, for the 10th Doctor (if they haven't been removed): www.bbc.co.uk/writersroom/insight/script_archive.shtml
0- Farscape
- www.johnskeedvabbq.com/Transcripts/transcripts.html
- http://www.twiztv.com/scripts/farscape
- http://www.farscapefantasy.com/bad.news.html
- http://www.geocities.com/psycholly/farscape/trans_eps.html
- http://xenajules2.homestead.com/S3Episodes.html
0- Firefly
- http://www.twiztv.com
0- NCIS
- http://ncis.hypnoweb.net/episodes/saison-1.25.3/
(French website with transcripts up until near end season 4)
- http://ncisreferencelibrary.wetpaint.com/page/NCIS+subtitles
(Subtitles only from S4Ep21 to S7Ep14)
0- Sanctuary
-- http://www.jackfic.net/emeraldcity/transcriptslist.html
(Does not include webisodes transcripts. This transcriber usually updates by the end of the next week after the episode has aired.)
o- Webisodes: http://sanctuary.wikia.com/wiki/Webisode_Guide
0- Stargate
- www.gateworld.net
(SG1, SGA, SGU and the movies - if anything is missing, please contact the web masters at gateworld.net)
0- Torchwood
- http://community.livejournal.com/tw_transcripts
(alternatively search or ask Combom at www.combom.co.uk)
Those are mostly all I have at present. I haven't been able to check all the links as my internet is being spotty today. So if something is not working, please contact me (by leaving a comment). Apologies if links do not work - this is the first time I've ever embedded links in this blog. If you can't find a certain transcript(s), let me know. Some of my records are a bit old (ie, I found the transcripts a while ago and some sites may no longer exist - however it is as up to date as my internet will allow).
Mountains and pillows fluff far away,
where iron and buckler meet evergreen.
Tellers of mosses speak in caraway
and messengers of morris work the seam.
Hush when whistling wings breeze by
and hold your breath when willows sigh,
for then will shadows upon you creep,
hoping to wrap you in their keep.
Light and twilight wrapped in misty grey,
mantled slider in something fey,
but on the sheep stead in horizon,
will you find help for the bison.
Fear not in sparkling crystals,
lest melted glasses trip you,
but look to yon hidden gospels
for the aid by rocky leanto.
Stay safe.
12 January, 2012
12 December, 2011
Thirty minutes
A lot can happen in half an hour. A lot can happen in one minute. From car accidents to giant sand sculptures, you can get a lot done within that measure of time. For example, you will take on average 360-540 breaths per minute and probably have itched at least 20 irritable places within the past half an hour. You can walk 2.35km or yawn 5 times.
But that's not all.
and this post may have to be continued another day. My half hour has run out...
But that's not all.
and this post may have to be continued another day. My half hour has run out...
29 November, 2011
some days
Some days, you just want to shoot somebody.
Normally it starts with something small. Falling out of bed and forgetting which way is up, your hair won't stay down no matter what, your clothes get stuck to that little sharp bit on the kitchen chair and some how or other, your favourite shirt gets vegemite stains or your pants rip in the crotch. Then tripping over the cat and spraining your ankle, you run out the door into traffic so abnormally heavy that you get to work an hour late and the meeting's started without you.
But that's just life right?
Well. All those things happened today, but there's one more.
After more clumsy and disastrous happenings in the office, I landed in a stranger's lap after the train jerked to an harder stop than normal. The man was a parliamentarian - a lowly back bencher, barely ever noticed until the shocking statement he had delivered yesterday. I apologised and he gave me his seat, only for him to fall onto my lips and lap two stops later. Maybe there'd been a cow on the tracks and the train driver slammed on the brakes to let it pass. Maybe a duck flew into the window. Or maybe the train driver was just driving way too fast. The train could have literally rattled apart.
In any case, there were paparazzi.
Now there are headlines and I am infamous.
I've even been given a few uniforms to make sure that the media don't stampede and trample on me in the rush to dig up every minutiae of my boring history.
From invisible PA to terribly lime-lighted mistress of a man growing in power. A man (handsome as he is), who instead of denying all allegations, encourages them in their lies, but refuses to talk to me. A man revelling in all the attention.
A few hours later, I'm no longer a PA. No one will ever employ me or listen to learn the truth and all because of an accident. Chance and one man's thirst for power. Oh. And the fact that after I'd fallen into the man's lap; unknown to me, my skirt had split at the back and I'd been walking around in public with a corner of the skirt stuck in my underpants.
Don't tell me that's just life.
I will shoot.
(please note, this is a short work of fiction and has no bearing on any person in real life in any shape or form).
Normally it starts with something small. Falling out of bed and forgetting which way is up, your hair won't stay down no matter what, your clothes get stuck to that little sharp bit on the kitchen chair and some how or other, your favourite shirt gets vegemite stains or your pants rip in the crotch. Then tripping over the cat and spraining your ankle, you run out the door into traffic so abnormally heavy that you get to work an hour late and the meeting's started without you.
But that's just life right?
Well. All those things happened today, but there's one more.
After more clumsy and disastrous happenings in the office, I landed in a stranger's lap after the train jerked to an harder stop than normal. The man was a parliamentarian - a lowly back bencher, barely ever noticed until the shocking statement he had delivered yesterday. I apologised and he gave me his seat, only for him to fall onto my lips and lap two stops later. Maybe there'd been a cow on the tracks and the train driver slammed on the brakes to let it pass. Maybe a duck flew into the window. Or maybe the train driver was just driving way too fast. The train could have literally rattled apart.
In any case, there were paparazzi.
Now there are headlines and I am infamous.
I've even been given a few uniforms to make sure that the media don't stampede and trample on me in the rush to dig up every minutiae of my boring history.
From invisible PA to terribly lime-lighted mistress of a man growing in power. A man (handsome as he is), who instead of denying all allegations, encourages them in their lies, but refuses to talk to me. A man revelling in all the attention.
A few hours later, I'm no longer a PA. No one will ever employ me or listen to learn the truth and all because of an accident. Chance and one man's thirst for power. Oh. And the fact that after I'd fallen into the man's lap; unknown to me, my skirt had split at the back and I'd been walking around in public with a corner of the skirt stuck in my underpants.
Don't tell me that's just life.
I will shoot.
(please note, this is a short work of fiction and has no bearing on any person in real life in any shape or form).
28 October, 2011
puddles
A middle
a muddle
and the little puddles.
The room was full of puddles. Some big, some small, but all larger than the size of a child's plastic chair. They had been irregularly spaced in such a way that they seemed to be a jigsaw of puddles. Each puddle shone a different colour, depending on the light reflected in them from the stained glass roof.
I had no idea where I was or what this place was for. How did I get here? Through a maze of doors I was not sure I wanted to negotiate again. It had been like trying to find a way out of a mirror maze.
a muddle
and the little puddles.
The room was full of puddles. Some big, some small, but all larger than the size of a child's plastic chair. They had been irregularly spaced in such a way that they seemed to be a jigsaw of puddles. Each puddle shone a different colour, depending on the light reflected in them from the stained glass roof.
I had no idea where I was or what this place was for. How did I get here? Through a maze of doors I was not sure I wanted to negotiate again. It had been like trying to find a way out of a mirror maze.
24 October, 2011
city chick
Sweltering hot car.
Early summer days that cook a body before they've even put a key in the ignition.
Burning, stinking days where you want to live in a cold shower - if the rain water tank held an infinite supply of cold water.
And you know what?
I've run out of water.
There's only that old, yellowed bottle of water that has been rolling around on the car floor. And nobody's going to want to drink that. I mean, there's no way in the world I would want to drink that...
But I'm stuck in the middle of the Outback with no phone (battery's dead - anyway, the sun had baked the screen before I realised that it had been sitting in the open sun for hours. Smart phone. Huh.) No one coming. It's cooler outside the car than in and even then, the only shade is one scraggly shrub that don't even reach my knee.
I'm as red as a lobster, will have peeling skin for days, as well as freckles for months to come and I'm sure I'm going to catch cancer from drinking old water steeped in carcinogens that have leached out from the plastic into the near boiling water. Which is worse? Being roasted like a lizard on the baking red sand now or slowly dying while being attacked from within by my own body?
I really can't decide.
Dave had better notice I'm missing and come find me soon before all that is left of me is either charred flesh or a cancerous mass. I've been out here for 3 minutes already. I can see the gate from where I am, so it should only take him about 10 minutes to come rescue me - if he walks. If he drives, it won't take a moment and I don't want to spend 10 minutes out here in the sun if he can come and pick me up in his dad's air-conditioned ute.
I daren't leave my car. What if a snake attacks me? What if I run out of water before I reach the house? Anyway, my authentic Dolce Garbana sandals would never survive the 500m distance on this stupid red cracked road. How can they call this rutted stretch of dust a road anyway?
Better to wait here for him.
Five minutes now and I'm dying. That bottle of water is starting to look good.
Early summer days that cook a body before they've even put a key in the ignition.
Burning, stinking days where you want to live in a cold shower - if the rain water tank held an infinite supply of cold water.
And you know what?
I've run out of water.
There's only that old, yellowed bottle of water that has been rolling around on the car floor. And nobody's going to want to drink that. I mean, there's no way in the world I would want to drink that...
But I'm stuck in the middle of the Outback with no phone (battery's dead - anyway, the sun had baked the screen before I realised that it had been sitting in the open sun for hours. Smart phone. Huh.) No one coming. It's cooler outside the car than in and even then, the only shade is one scraggly shrub that don't even reach my knee.
I'm as red as a lobster, will have peeling skin for days, as well as freckles for months to come and I'm sure I'm going to catch cancer from drinking old water steeped in carcinogens that have leached out from the plastic into the near boiling water. Which is worse? Being roasted like a lizard on the baking red sand now or slowly dying while being attacked from within by my own body?
I really can't decide.
Dave had better notice I'm missing and come find me soon before all that is left of me is either charred flesh or a cancerous mass. I've been out here for 3 minutes already. I can see the gate from where I am, so it should only take him about 10 minutes to come rescue me - if he walks. If he drives, it won't take a moment and I don't want to spend 10 minutes out here in the sun if he can come and pick me up in his dad's air-conditioned ute.
I daren't leave my car. What if a snake attacks me? What if I run out of water before I reach the house? Anyway, my authentic Dolce Garbana sandals would never survive the 500m distance on this stupid red cracked road. How can they call this rutted stretch of dust a road anyway?
Better to wait here for him.
Five minutes now and I'm dying. That bottle of water is starting to look good.
21 October, 2011
the heights
Round the craggy corner, she turned. Shuffling feet, cautiously kicking off loose stones that might make her foot slip. A centimetre at a time. Don't look down. Don't look around. Don't even look up to see how far there is to go.
Shuffle, step.
Shuffle, step.
Wind whistling by ear, pulling at clothes.
Defy gravity a bit longer, she told her muscles. Just a bit more.
Muscles were screaming. Aching with that sour feeling, as if lemon juice had gotten into her muscles and was sapping all her strength.
Just a bit more.
Eyes examined rocks. Cracks, depth, finger holds, foot holds.
Shuffle, shuffle, step.
Finally. A ledge.
With bated breath, she reached out a foot to test the ledge, holding onto the rock at shoulder height with shaking, white finger tips. It held. Carefully, she edged more weight onto the slab of rock until her tired, shaking legs bore all her weight. Once before, she had made the mistake of not testing a ledge and almost fallen back down the mountain cliff. It had been a good thing she'd managed to quickly find foot holds and that the cracks in which her fingers had been wedged had not crumbled beneath her weight.
On the ledge, she collapsed and took a few deep breaths of cold air.
Relief.
Looking around at the breath-taking sight of mountains upon mountains as far the eye could see, purpling into the horizon, she wondered for the millionth time what she was doing here.
Shuffle, step.
Shuffle, step.
Wind whistling by ear, pulling at clothes.
Defy gravity a bit longer, she told her muscles. Just a bit more.
Muscles were screaming. Aching with that sour feeling, as if lemon juice had gotten into her muscles and was sapping all her strength.
Just a bit more.
Eyes examined rocks. Cracks, depth, finger holds, foot holds.
Shuffle, shuffle, step.
Finally. A ledge.
With bated breath, she reached out a foot to test the ledge, holding onto the rock at shoulder height with shaking, white finger tips. It held. Carefully, she edged more weight onto the slab of rock until her tired, shaking legs bore all her weight. Once before, she had made the mistake of not testing a ledge and almost fallen back down the mountain cliff. It had been a good thing she'd managed to quickly find foot holds and that the cracks in which her fingers had been wedged had not crumbled beneath her weight.
On the ledge, she collapsed and took a few deep breaths of cold air.
Relief.
Looking around at the breath-taking sight of mountains upon mountains as far the eye could see, purpling into the horizon, she wondered for the millionth time what she was doing here.
07 October, 2011
in the time of things
I haven't been to the Tunnels of the Guard, I've lived there almost all my life. Anonymous. The Guards know me and just think I'm another one of them. I'm even on the rosters for the various duties and do everything they do. What they don't know is that there is no record of me ever joining the Guard. There are no files on my history or family - not even I know anything about my history. No one knows how old I am; and just because I've always been around, I just happened to slip onto the rosters. It was a natural progression.
At first, I was an exceptionally stupid probie. I could do drill, tie knots, keep up all day and night, but things like the Line Creed, the Oath and the Stance were things that some of my 'comrades' had to drum into me so that I did not get everyone else into trouble. Especially during inspection time. During those times, when everyone's files were scrutinised with a white microscope, I 'disappeared'. I had the reputation of being part of the Secret Services without needing to have said anything.
In the dark, I walk sure. Like the 'tunnel rats' that the Guard try to eradicate, I am sly. The 'tunnel rats' are my friends though. We always have been, because I was one of them before I managed to integrate myself into the Tunnels. Nobody likes the 'rats'. We were the thieves in the dark, the vicious packs that took down supply vehicles at night and set fires to the creeping Lines. The Lines didn't think we knew. They thought we, like the rest of the brainwashed citizens Above, were stupid. But we knew what the Lines were really up to and what the Lines true goal was and we weren't going to let our city turn itself over to them so easily.
We are the unsung heroes. The secret fighters of a rebellion nobody knows about. Everyone tries to squish us, but we fight to protect and survive. Nobody wants to live in a slowly shrinking cage. Most people don't notice a thing. They're too busy listening to the Lines, going to work, eating and sleeping. Our first rule is survival. The second is to prevent the Lines from taking over and enslaving the people Above. Hence I joined the Guard.
Yes, we are proud brats. Yes, we are an ignorant little peoples. But who was it who banned children from the cities? Who was it who sent us away to be beaten into submissive broken spirits in strict white institutions? Who was it who condemned the rest of the citizens Above to a slow death from age? Why shouldn't we have escaped en masse?
They say that with the Lines, all will be ageless. There will no longer be a need for children. We disagree. We have been watching and the 'ageless' are aging still. Soon, they will be so old that it will be a mercy to take their breath and lay them in the earth. Their minds are corroding.
Time cannot be stopped. Age cannot be forced to remain within a chosen decade. They may continue to look young, but their forgetfulness and useless, endless sticky notes are telling. All the time, their laws become more and more stupid.
People may only emerge from their houses at night if they have Night Duties.
People may only own 1 pair of glasses.
People must always carry remiders with them.
A male and female may not touch each other.
Marriage has been abolished.
What sort of world is this?
And what of the Lines?
The Lines know what they are doing. The Lines are the Enemy and if only the people Above would look into the history of the Lines more carefully, they will know that the very people they have been fighting all their lives are now the people they welcome with open arms.
Time cannot be stopped. And now only the 'tunnel rats' are the ones with real functioning brains. This is why we must emerge from our banishment and whether danger or safety, fight for our dying families that never loved us. If the Lines complete their mission, they will flush the tunnels. All that we are, all we have left will be lost and forgotten and the Enemy will have won.
Time cannot be stopped.
And children only grow wiser with time.
At first, I was an exceptionally stupid probie. I could do drill, tie knots, keep up all day and night, but things like the Line Creed, the Oath and the Stance were things that some of my 'comrades' had to drum into me so that I did not get everyone else into trouble. Especially during inspection time. During those times, when everyone's files were scrutinised with a white microscope, I 'disappeared'. I had the reputation of being part of the Secret Services without needing to have said anything.
In the dark, I walk sure. Like the 'tunnel rats' that the Guard try to eradicate, I am sly. The 'tunnel rats' are my friends though. We always have been, because I was one of them before I managed to integrate myself into the Tunnels. Nobody likes the 'rats'. We were the thieves in the dark, the vicious packs that took down supply vehicles at night and set fires to the creeping Lines. The Lines didn't think we knew. They thought we, like the rest of the brainwashed citizens Above, were stupid. But we knew what the Lines were really up to and what the Lines true goal was and we weren't going to let our city turn itself over to them so easily.
We are the unsung heroes. The secret fighters of a rebellion nobody knows about. Everyone tries to squish us, but we fight to protect and survive. Nobody wants to live in a slowly shrinking cage. Most people don't notice a thing. They're too busy listening to the Lines, going to work, eating and sleeping. Our first rule is survival. The second is to prevent the Lines from taking over and enslaving the people Above. Hence I joined the Guard.
Yes, we are proud brats. Yes, we are an ignorant little peoples. But who was it who banned children from the cities? Who was it who sent us away to be beaten into submissive broken spirits in strict white institutions? Who was it who condemned the rest of the citizens Above to a slow death from age? Why shouldn't we have escaped en masse?
They say that with the Lines, all will be ageless. There will no longer be a need for children. We disagree. We have been watching and the 'ageless' are aging still. Soon, they will be so old that it will be a mercy to take their breath and lay them in the earth. Their minds are corroding.
Time cannot be stopped. Age cannot be forced to remain within a chosen decade. They may continue to look young, but their forgetfulness and useless, endless sticky notes are telling. All the time, their laws become more and more stupid.
People may only emerge from their houses at night if they have Night Duties.
People may only own 1 pair of glasses.
People must always carry remiders with them.
A male and female may not touch each other.
Marriage has been abolished.
What sort of world is this?
And what of the Lines?
The Lines know what they are doing. The Lines are the Enemy and if only the people Above would look into the history of the Lines more carefully, they will know that the very people they have been fighting all their lives are now the people they welcome with open arms.
Time cannot be stopped. And now only the 'tunnel rats' are the ones with real functioning brains. This is why we must emerge from our banishment and whether danger or safety, fight for our dying families that never loved us. If the Lines complete their mission, they will flush the tunnels. All that we are, all we have left will be lost and forgotten and the Enemy will have won.
Time cannot be stopped.
And children only grow wiser with time.
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