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Addicted to Westeros (and proud) July 14, 2012

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Game of ThronesAnni fa, quando era uscito in Italia, avevo acchiappato il libro “A Game of Thrones”, perché nel mondo del Fantasy letterario se ne parlava parecchio e come sempre volevo toccare con mano.

Premetto di non amare particolarmente il genere Fantasy epico, a parte ovviamente “The Lord of The Rings“, immenso progenitore di gran parte della produzione successiva. Aggiungo di non amare la narrazione prolissa, le descrizioni eccessivamente lunghe di paesaggi, abbigliamento, insomma, tutta quella ciccia che provoca l’obesità degli attuali tomi fantasy negli scaffali delle librerie.

Così, dopo una lettura mica poi tanto coinvolgente dei primi due, avevo iniziato “A Storm of Swords“, ma presto era rimasto abbandonato nella mia libreria, con il segnalibro a una pagina x, dimenticato. E George R.R. Martin è caduto nel dimenticatoio con esso.

Poi, eoni più tardi, è arrivata HBO e il suo ottimo “Game of Thrones“. Sono rare le occasioni in cui un adattamento televisivo supera il materiale originale, ma questo è senz’altro uno di quei rari casi. Storie forti, personaggi vivi e indimenticabili, location mozzafiato e una trama che ti risucchia dentro come in un vortice di intrighi, sangue, sesso e violenza. E in breve mi sono ritrovata “addicted to Westeros“.

La prima e la seconda stagione sono volate via in un battito di ciglia, troppo in fretta per poter aspettare all’asciutto fino a marzo 2013. A quel punto, in pieno trip, ho fatto una cosa deplorevole: sono andata su Wikipedia e ho letto il riassunto di tutta la storia pubblicata a oggi, fino alla fine di “A Dance with Dragons”. Lo so, me ne vergogno, non ero in me :)

Il senso di sazietà è durato circa mezza giornata. Poi sono tornata all’attacco dei tomi di Martin: per mia fortuna, nel frattempo era arrivato il Kindle e gli e-book di Amazon, 200 grammi di lettore contro un chiletto buono di carta stampata. Comodo da tenere in mano, da portare in giro, e superbamente complementato dal Cloud Reader di Amazon. L’accoppiata malefica di questi due strumenti mi ha permesso di avere tutto e subito, sempre. E ne ho abusato, vergognosamente.

In un mese, nei ritagli di tempo, mi sono succhiata “A Dance with Dragons“, seguito dal fratello gemello “A Feast for Crows” (per chi non lo sapesse, i due libri hanno una cronologia parallela su due gruppi diversi di personaggi, quindi l’ordine non influenza gran che la lettura) e a diversi pick-up da “A Storm of Swords”, quando trovavo dei riferimenti a fatti che non avevo letto. Millanta pagine di storia, via così, a volte leggendo sequenzialmente, a volte seguendo un POV fino alla fine e poi il successivo, a un mondo di distanza. Che trip, ragazzi :)

E ora sono tristemente a secco.
Così, per consolarmi, chiudo il loop riguardandomi la prima stagione della serie con maggiore consapevolezza, gustandola circa 10 volte di più rispetto alla prima volta.

Winter is coming, gente. E speriamo che si dia una mossa :)

Serata Fantasy al Delos Bookclub March 4, 2009

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Tiny GattoDomenica 1 marzo al Delos Bookclub abbiamo inaugurato la nuova serie di incontri e reading dedicati alla narrativa fantasy, che si affiancheranno – con una cadenza ancora da stabilire – ai consueti reading di fantascienza della domenica sera, con Mu e la Guida Galattica.

La serata ha visto un dibattito sulle Fiabe di Beda il Bardo, il libricino di J.K. Rowling, autrice di Harry Potter – pubblicato di recente a scopo benefico. Ospite Marina Lenti, la nostra amica esperta potteriana, redattrice di Fantasy Magazine e autrice dei volumi L’Incantesimo Harry Potter (Delos Books)  e Harry Potter a Test (Alphatest).

La discussione è partita dalla lettura dal vivo della fiaba della Fonte della Buona Sorte, come sempre curata dalla vostra Eliver Delphin, per l’occasione in versione tiny gattina Gryffindor con tanto di bacchettina magica e scopa volante. Sul mio Flickr qualche fotina della serata e su Sleeds il log integrale della discussione.

Un breve servizio sull’incontro andrà in onda oggi alle 23:25 sul canale Sat2000 (in replica giovedì 18:50 e sabato 18:25). Tutti i dettagli sulla notizia pubblicata da Fantasy Magazine.

Váš prohlížeč nepodoporuje Flash stáhnětě jej.

Il bello della diretta February 5, 2009

Posted by eliver in : ClipArt, Eliver, Generale, Racconti, TV , 3comments

Martedì 3 febbraio, io e S* siamo stati ospiti della trasmissione Tempi Dispari, condotta da Francesco Gatti su RaiNews24. Si è parlato di fantascienza, ovviamente, a partire dalla storica rivista Robot – riportata alla vita dalla Delos Books – fino ad arrivare al mio romanzo ClipArt, che sarà ripubblicato ad aprile nella collana Odissea Fantascienza.

Partecipare a una intervista in diretta TV è stato divertente, un’esperienza in realtà non troppo diversa dalla (web)radio. Dopotutto, Gatti era collegato dagli studi RAI di Roma e nello studio al centro di produzione RAI di Milano da cui parlavamo io e S* c’eravamo soltanto noi due, un esercito di pinguini e i tecnici video e audio (mi scuso con quei due gentilissimi ragazzi che ci hanno microfonato e spiegato dove guardare se non conosco l’esatto termine per definire il loro lavoro), quindi la sensazione era quella di parlare live con Gatti attraverso una webcam.

Contrariamente a quello che si vede di solito in TV (ospiti che parlano per 10 secondi in tutto, interrotti continuamente dal conduttore), abbiamo avuto un bel po’ di spazio e siamo riusciti a dare delle risposte un minimo articolate. A voi il giudizio, comunque.

Questa è la prima parte della trasmissione: siate clementi :)

Váš prohlížeč nepodoporuje Flash stáhnětě jej.

E qui c’è il seguito.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf_vw32aZtM

Full immersion vampira II December 28, 2008

Posted by eliver in : Eliver, Generale, TV , 2comments

Complice SciFi su Steel, ho iniziato a guardare la serie Moonlight, in italiano, una puntata a caso, in un pomeriggio di zapping annoiato. A freddo mi sembrava un prodotto un po’ patinato, ma il richiamo del vampiro era comunque abbastanza forte da generare in me la pazienza per arrivare fino in fondo. Qualche ora dopo guardavo la prima puntata in lingua originale, con calma e in tutto relax.

Che dire: carino! Di più: Australiano! ^_^

Váš prohlížeč nepodoporuje Flash stáhnětě jej.

Purtroppo sono solo 16 episodi e la notizia che la serie fosse stata chiusa era già ben nota dall’estate, quindi sono arrivata fino in fondo con il sacro terrore di un finale del cavolo.

Dopo la conclusione VERAMENTE del cactus di Blood Ties (tutte le trame se ne vanno in malora…) ero un po’ preoccupata per la sorte dei protagonisti. Già mi preparavo a Mick che, sputtanato pubblicamente come vampiro, lascia Beth, cambia nome e va a vivere anche lui a Vancouver, aprendo una nuova agenzia di PI con Henry Fitzroy Razz

E invece no: le fans (la s è messa di proposito) hanno avuto il loro momento “shipper” in linea con il tono generale della serie, e le luci si sono spente su Moonlight con un sospiro.

Un’altra serie carina è stata chiusa… cosa mi resta da guardare? Sad
Io inizio Angel, che un vampiro tira l’altro.

Full immersion vampira December 27, 2008

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La passione è riesplosa per colpa di Night Watch e ho ricominciato a leggere di vampiri. Prima tutta la saga di True Blood, con Sookie Stackhouse & company, ancora prima che arrivasse la serie in TV (caruccia). Esaurita la vena della Charlaine Harris, la voglia di andare avanti era ancora molto forte: così, visto che già da qualche mese i libri della serie Blood Books di Tanya Huff mi guardavano dalla libreria di S* con fare minaccioso, ho iniziato Blood Price e in qualche settimana ho fatto fuori anche quelli.

In pieno trip vampiresco, e in mancanza di materia prima con cui nutrirlo, sono passata alle serie TV. Come già dicevo, mi sono succhiata tutta la prima stagione di True Blood e, via di seguito, le “due” stagioni di Blood Ties: niente male, già. Ecco un mio commento dal TenForward (segue):

Parliamo di Blood Ties, dunque.

Avendo iniziato a leggere i libri di Vicki Nelson ben prima di vedere la serie, conoscevo già il tono generale, piacevolmente avventuroso ma leggero, quindi ammetto che non mi aspettavo niente di eclatante. Aggiungete S* che bofonchiava “serie canadese low budget”, non molto entusiasta Smile

Così, per una volta, sono rimasta sorpresa in modo positivo: certo, dei romanzi non resta molto – pilot a parte – ma i personaggi sono molto azzeccati e le dinamiche tra loro funzionano bene. Azzeccata anche l’aggiunta di Coreen come assistente di Vicki, anche se il suo modo di essere goth grida “Abby Sciuto” senza alcuna vergogna Wink

Il punto debole della serie sono, purtroppo, i casi di investigazione. Dopo la prima storia, Vicki diventa una sorta di Dylan Dog, un investigatore dell’incubo. Capisco che la pubblicità “nessun caso è troppo strano” possa avere successo, ma affrontare in ordine sparso TUTTO il campionario dei mostri della cultura popolare:

– demoni
– mutaforma
– zombie
– medusa
– mummia assassina
– il wendigo
– etc.

rende il tutto davvero poco credibile. Abbiate pietà!
Capisco il povero Mike Celluci, quando esce di testa Smile

Il finale di stagione, per quanto cerchi di fare da ponte verso una seconda serie che non si farà, è veramente tristarello. Vicky, marchiata dal demone e mezza cieca, viene mollata da tutti.
E un po’ viene da pensare “Ti sta bene, dopo che hai rotto le palle a quei due poveracci per un’intera stagione con le tue paturnie da superdonna. Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!”

Tra l’altro, non ho proprio idea di come gli autori della serie pensassero di ricollegare la trama televisiva con quella dei libri, visto che soprattutto in “Blood Pact” ci sono dei cambiamenti mica da poco. Forse non ci pensavano affatto. E cmq ora è tardi per pensarci, visto che la serie è stata definitivamente chiusa.

Un altro vampiro che morde la polvere. Sigh.
Ci resterà soltanto quello sfigato di Bill Compton, che proprio NON LO REGGO.

The Doctor wears Valentino July 11, 2007

Posted by eliver in : Doctor Who, Eliver, Generale, Racconti, TV , 9comments

A Doctor Who short story by Elisabetta Vernier

‘Let’s see. Italy-Italy-Italy… Yes! Italy!’ the Doctor declared, fiddling with the levers and switches on the Tardis console. ‘Two thousand and… something.’
TardisWith a satisfied smile, he listened as the Tardis groaned her way through space-and-time to reach her destination. Then, lost in thought, he ran his hands over his battered velvet coat.
‘Time to retire, my old friend’ he muttered with affection, poking a finger through a hole in the fabric inside his right pocket.
Hopefully, he would be in Milan just in time for the beginning of the Winter Sales season.

***

It was an unusually warm winter, even for Italy, and the January sky was clear blue, with thin streaks of white. In Milan, however, nobody seemed to care. The city buzzed with its usual frenetic business activity, and enjoying a beautiful morning was considered a waste of time. And money.
In Palestro Park, no one noticed the blooming trees, just as no one noticed an odd blue cabin materialising beside a large oak tree by the duck pond.

***

‘Oh, my god!’ Elisa whispered to herself, stopping abruptly to stare wide eyed at the life-size Tardis prop someone had built in Palestro Park. ‘I totally love it!’
But what in hell was a Tardis prop doing there?
Maybe the BBC is doing some external shots for the new series! Maybe…
Whatever the reason, Elisa couldn’t help but stare. She had to have a picture of herself with that awesome looking Tardis. So she looked around, in search of someone she could trust with her mobile phone.
At last, she spotted a familiar face. Well, familiar wasn’t the right word. She felt she knew him, but couldn’t place him clearly. He was lean and tall, with short wavy black hair, soft blue eyes and a full mouth in a pale face.
He was wearing a dark coat, and had a long scarf around his neck. A striped scarf.
Ewwww… Where did he get that? She thought, cringing with aesthetic disgust.
But who was he? She knew she was terrible at recognizing people.
Was he a co-worker of hers? Nah. A TV journalist, maybe. No, not a chance.
‘Well, whatever’ she told herself, and joined him on the shore of the duck pond.
He was feeding the ducks with lazy gestures.
‘Hey’ she said. He turned to face her. His eyes were both kind and sharp.‘Could you please take a picture of me with that…’
The word Tardis stuck in her throat like a fish bone.
In her mind, a face and a name had suddenly clicked together. Paul McGann.
That was it! So the BBC was really filming something incognito! But why the Eighth Doctor and not Ten?
She realised she was still staring at him, caught in mid sentence, and blushed.
‘I’m so… so sorry, sir’ she stammered in English. ‘I didn’t mean to bother you, Mr McGann. I didn’t realise it was you. I’ll just be…’
The British actor looked slightly amused.
‘Excuse me, miss. What did you just call me?’ he inquired, very politely.
Oh, god. He was so British she could faint.
‘Mr McGann’ she repeated, in a small voice. ‘You are Paul McGann, the actor, right? I mean, the Eighth Doctor, you know…’
At that, the man looked deeply puzzled.
‘The Doctor?’ he asked, frowning. ‘You know about the Doctor?’
‘Of course I know the Doctor!’ she replied, feeling a little offended.
Ok, Doctor Who fans weren’t that many in Italy, but they knew their Doctors and companions, just like any other fan would. And she was a true fan.
The man gave her a concerned look.
‘Well, miss… What is your name?’
‘Elisa.’
‘Well, Elisa. I’m afraid I’m not who you think I am’ he said, studying her.
‘Yeah, right’ she said, smiling. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell the press.’
He dropped the last breadcrumbs in the water.
‘I see you’re not easily convinced’ he said, crushing the small paper bag in his elegant hand. ‘Follow me, then. Shops open in ten minutes and I wouldn’t want to be late.’
She followed him without thinking. She’d be late for work, but she couldn’t care less.
She was going shopping with the Eighth Doctor!

***

At 9:00 o’clock, Via Montenapoleone was packed with tourists, queuing outside the flagship stores of the most famous Italian fashion brands.
It was a strange thing, fashion. The Doctor had changed his own personal tastes so many times, but he could hardly remember wearing anything else than his beloved velvet coat.
Actually, his beloved velvet coat, retired.
The dark grey coat he was wearing – something he had dug out of the Tardis wardrobe – had belonged to one of his previous selves: elegant, yes, but way too formal. He had been so bored by his own reflection he had grabbed his ancient coloured scarf, to add a touch of personality. The result was puzzling: he looked like some sort of overgrown version of Harry Potter. And apparently, he also looked like someone else, this Paul fellow Elisa had mistaken him for. An actor, she had said.
An actor playing the Doctor. Playing… me! he thought, both amused and offended by the idea of being the star of some TV show.
How did it happen? How come he had never noticed? And, above all, how much did these people really know about him and the Time Lords? He had spent quite some time on Earth, but this TV show matter was absolutely new to him. Could it be dangerous?
The young Italian woman he had met in the park was queuing with him in front of the Valentino shop, too embarrassed to start a conversation. She kept shifting her hazelnut eyes on and off of him, afraid to be caught staring. From time to time, her freckled face blushed slightly.
‘Tell me more about this actor who looks like me. He plays the Doctor, right?’ he asked, to ease her embarrassment. Besides, he was really curious about his fictional self.
Elisa stood silent for a moment, thinking.
‘Yes… and no’ she explained at last, looking uneasy. ‘Well, he used to. Not anymore. He regenerated.’
‘He-did-what?’ barked the Doctor, raising his voice a little more than he meant to.
The young woman went pale. She was probably beginning to realise he wasn’t him, after all, and that she was shopping with a total stranger.
‘The Doctor, he… he regenerated. Twice. He looks different now.’
‘How different?’
‘Very different’ she said. ‘Tall skinny Scottish guy, with freckles. Funny hair. Big teeth.’
‘Teeth?’ he repeated, distractedly running his tongue over his own quite remarkable set of teeth. ‘But it’s impossible! It never happened. It’s all wrong!’
She frowned slightly.
‘Wrong? Why? Are you an Eccleston fan?’

***

One hour later, they had almost reached the top of the queue.
In the meantime, Elisa had updated the guy she stubbornly thought of as “Paul” about the last ten years of Doctor Who. She was puzzled by how little he seemed to know: she knew the actor hadn’t been much into the whole Who thing, but she wasn’t prepared for his abyssal ignorance.
He seemed oddly interested, though, and she liked that.
However, when he asked about the early days of series, she had to give up and admit her own ignorance. As a matter of fact, her knowledge about the Doctor started with the 1996 movie. First to Seventh Doctors were still a complete mystery to her.
No, wait. Seventh was the Bilbo-Baggins-looking guy, McCoy, the one who died in surgery.
‘So, who created the Doctor?’ he asked her again, with an intense look on his face. ‘When did it happen? Where?’
‘I’m really sorry, Paul’ she said, tasting the sound of his first name.‘Can’t help you with that. We could check on Wikipedia, if you like.’
‘Stop calling me that, please?’ he pleaded. ‘Call me John, if you have to. John Smith.’
She couldn’t resist his begging eyes. Besides, the Doctor’s alias fitted him well.
‘Sure’ she replied, with a smug smile. ‘So, what are you planning to buy, John?’ she asked, changing subject.
‘Buy?’ he asked, like he had just landed from another planet. Actors were strange people.
‘Oh, riiiiight! Shopping! Valentino!’ he remembered, at last.
‘Yes, that’s why we’ve been queuing here for the good part of an hour, I suppose’ Elisa said, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind. If she had to lose a day’s work, she wanted it to be for a good cause. Like helping Pau… – no, John – choose some superstylish new Valentino suit.
‘A business suit, maybe?’
John wrinkled his nose, faking disgust.
‘No thanks, not for me’ he replied. ‘I need a new coat. And I like velvet.’
‘Wait a minute. Did you just say velvet?’ she asked, with sincere surprise. ‘But I thought you hated the Eighth Doctor’s costume! You said it yourself, more than a couple of times, in interviews. You hated the costume, as much as you hated the wig!’
‘Wig?’ he pressed her, looking truly horrified now. ‘What wig?’
Then their turn came, and a beautiful waitress helped them inside.

***

The Doctor glanced at his own reflection.
The violet velvet coat suited him perfectly. Waist, shoulders, lapel: everything was absolutely wonderful.
‘Pleeeeeease!’ moaned Elisa, sitting on a small couch near the mirror. ‘You look like… Elton John! And old, as well.’
‘I am old’ he replied, with a tired smile.
‘Oh, stop it!’ she said, waving her hand at him. Then she rose and went straight for the waitress.
Mi scusi’ she addressed her in Italian, not knowing the Doctor could understand her just as well. ‘Could you please bring us something that doesn’t look so… old style? Forget velvet. Bring us something… leather. And bring a sweater. Cachemire. Make it dark green, V-neck.’
The Doctor listened, surprised by that outburst of creative thinking. Maybe he should trust her and see what happened. After all, he still had plenty of time to investigate the whereabouts – and whenabouts – of the man who created his fictional self.
When the waitress came back with an armful of clothes, Elisa welcomed her with a huge smile.
‘Try and see!’ she told him, then she left.

***

When she re-entered the small room, he was standing in front of the mirror, looking…
‘Fantastic!’ she cried, holding her fists against her cheeks. ‘Totally, absolutely fantastic!’
He turned to face her, looking amused.
‘Not bad’ he admitted. ‘Quite different from my usual style, but not bad at all.’
She made an “I told you so” face.
‘It’s Valentino.’
So much for the striped scarf and the violet velvet coat, she thought, chuckling. Now we’re talking!
‘Shall we go, now?’ he said, taking out his credit card. ‘Wikipedia calls!’

***

‘There, you see?’ Elisa said, pointing at the screen of her notebook PC. It was lunch time and her office was empty and silent. ‘Wikipedia says Doctor Who was created in 1963 by three guys at the BBC named Sydney Newman, C. E. Webber and Donald Wilson. The show went on from 1963 to 1989, for 26 seasons, then it was cancelled. It was brought back in 1996 by Philip Segal, for the American movie… That’s where you came in.’ She paused, blushing. ‘I mean, that’s when Paul came in.’
‘The actor who looks like me.’
‘Yep’ she answered, clicking on the actor’s name to bring up a photo. When it loaded, the Doctor felt like looking in a mirror. He and Paul could have been twin brothers. It was too much to be a coincidence. Something must have happened in the past. Someone must have seen him and his Tardis, first in the Sixties -as an older self – and then again in the early Nineties, in his present body.
‘1996, you said?’ he repeated, thoughtful. ‘Where? London?’
‘Let me check’ she replied, scrolling the webpage. ‘It says Segal tried to bring the show back around 1994. He was British but worked at Columbia Pictures, in the US. Hollywood, I’d guess.’
‘Hollywood, 1994’ mumbled the Doctor, trying to recall that period in Earth’s history. ‘Ah, yes! Schindler’s List won the Oscar for best movie, and the Lion King opened… What a year! I love the Lion King!’
‘Oh, me too!’ she replied, her face lighting up with excitement. But not for long.
All of a sudden, the Doctor stood up as if a bell had just rung in his mind.
‘Forgive me, but I’ve got to go now.’ He picked up his new jacket, ready to leave. ‘Business calls.’
‘Oh, I see.’ she replied, giving him a sad look. ‘Time to leave. Where to, if I may ask?’
‘Hollywood, 1994!’ he answered, with a mysterious smile. ‘Then, of course, London, 1963. Again.’
He took a step, then turned back and held out his hand to her.
‘How about some real space-time travelling with the Doctor in his new fantastic Valentino jacket?’
Elisa’s jaw hit the floor with a loud thump.

***

Some time later, the Tardis rematerialised under the oak tree in the park.
‘Here we are, back to where we came from’ the Doctor said, stepping out of his blue cabin.
‘Except for the fact that you erased Doctor Who from history!’ she complained, sulking. ‘It’s my favourite TV show, and now it’s like it never existed!’
‘It was never meant to exist. It’s for the best! Those guys at the BBC knew too much about me: it was dangerous. I had to do it. To protect me, but most of all, to protect you. You humans, I mean.’
‘I’ll be your n.1 fan, now’ she said, looking both happy and sad. ‘The only one, actually…’
‘Oh, come on! Why the sad face?’ he said, trying to cheer her up. ‘This world doesn’t know the Doctor, but you still do! And you’re not the only one. Who cares about a fictional hero, when you’ve seen the real thing?’
He flashed her one of his best, dashing grins.
‘C’mon, let’s take that picture and make sure you won’t forget about me’ he added, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the Tardis. ‘Give me your mobile phone, quick!’
She took out her small phone from her purse, hesitated for a moment, then handed it to the Doctor.
He fidgeted on it with his sonic screwdriver and positioned it onto a bench, a few metres from the Tardis.
Then he ran back to her, wrapping quickly one arm around her shoulder.
‘Say cheeeese’ he teased her, then pressed a button on his screwdriver.
The camera phone, now remote-controlled, clicked softly, recording the scene for posterity.

***

Later that day, Elisa stared at the screen of her phone.
The Doctor, in his Valentino jacket, looked dashing. He was gone, now, but he was real.
And she knew there were still a few fans out there, waiting for him to come back.
– I’ll find them, Doctor. You bet I will.
She put down the phone and opened Google.

Smith & Jones: il Dottore è tornato! April 1, 2007

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Smith and JonesGià, il Dottore è tornato.
Nuova compagna, Martha Jones, ma “same old life” per il caro mr. Smith.
Pazzo come sempre, schizzato e farneticante.
E con i capelli dritti in testa, un po’ a caso.

Se penso a quanti altri Doctor poteva essere David Tennant, almeno un po’ simili al mio amato Ninth (o anche Eighth, non mi sarei lamentata), mi sento male.

Datemi una macchina del tempo: voglio dimenticare questa rigenerazione! :(

Marzo, il mese della cuccagna :) February 25, 2007

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Come altro descrivere questa pioggia di serie che escono miracolosamente dal lungo hiatus festivo?

Battlestar Galactica, Lost, Jericho, Heroes e poi la nuova stagione di Life on Mars, e ancora NCIS… A marzo, poi, prima di Pasqua, si vocifera che inizierà la terza stagione del nuovo Doctor Who.

Ma è bellissimo! Datemi un pizzicotto! Sto sognando? :)

Torna “Life on Mars”, finalmente! February 8, 2007

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Dopo un lungo anno di attesa, arriva finalmente la seconda stagione di Life on Mars!
Era ora, accidenti.

E il trailer con i pupazzi Sam e Gene è davvero esilarante :)

Váš prohlížeč nepodoporuje Flash stáhnětě jej.

Oh, no! 1000 partecipanti! February 3, 2007

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Dal sito della Big Finish:

01.02.07: The Short Trips short story competition has now closed.Thank you to all of the 1,073 entrants! A winner will be announced soon and will have their work published later this year.

Ma porca miseria, mille e rotti racconti su The Doctor…
Se prima avevo una pallidissima speranza – ma molto molto molto pallida – che il mio racconto potesse essere almeno apprezzato, ora mi viene da ridere.
Ma quanti cavolo sono i fan di Doctor Who nel mondo anglosassone?

Che dire? Whatever… 😛

Quindi preparatevi a leggere presto online il mio nuovo racconto su The Doctor. Datemi giusto il tempo per tradurlo in italiano.