Боже, мой Боже, ласковый мой Боже, научи меня летать, если ты все можешь
It's in English because... well, it's about british men of a kind.

Oh, you can't imagine!
I'm so crazy in love it's almost visible (feasible) - it vibrates through my system like a sweet head-lightening first dose of alcohol after a year of abstination. I am smiling like a madman all day long and almost levitating a few inches above the surface of the sinful earth, not restricted by the gravity and mundanity of my day-to-day life.

And I am blessed with this sentation the second time in two years, mind you.

First was Gregory House MD and his eternal inquisitive dare - so daring that it was almost spiritual fight, almost divine and utterly humane. This character is very dear to me, is represents one of the main symbols that mark my inner space along with some poetry and myths. Actually, he is a part of my personal myth library. A culture hero, a noble prometheus mixed with trickstery and sin (and not without his eagle) - the core of what the humanity is as i see it.

And outstanding as he is, House is not alone, he has a quintessention of human relations - The Friendship (and by this upper case F-concept, which triggers one of my another greatest cravings, I mean all the existing connections - love, frienship, fraternity, a sense of belonging).
So, we have Gregory the genius and Wilson the friend. (Oh, like comical Don Quixote and Sancho Panza). That pair in all its possible variations in different times and cultures is what drives me crazy and makes me happy. It is the way people function, I presume, It is our coordinate system. The challenging vertical line is oriented toward knowlege, mastery, art, there our ideas and ideals are marked. The supporting horizontal line is about relations and progress of our everyday life - quiet work of love, compassion and endurance, this line is marked with moral rules. We need both of coordinate lines. (And often we lack both). But there are a few pure types... And I personally love those vertical ones, real and imaginary characters alike.
An interesting notice: in myths when such daring heroes are all by
themselves they are more prone to faliure - Doctor Faustus for example.
If there is no Friend there will be a devil in his stead.

Aaaand, guess who are my second set of Genius-and-Friend?
(I would never ever have guessed it myself before now - because I just cringed in disdain while looking the show on my parents' telly this winter weekend - "Oh, how dull! Oh, utterly tasteless! And the starring actor - sorry, but with this strange and ugly face of his, how could anyone be possibly fancing the protagonist!)
Well it was "The Hounds of Baskervill" - not the very representative episode as i think now, and with tons of advertisements, and distractions, and on top of it in Russian... Boring!
It's funny that I've never seen this coming - the next-in-a-row gen
ius and his devoted friend. I even managed to watch "Doctor Strange" first (oh, I have the doctor thing, all right) - the least impressive of his roles.

As for now - Benedict's photo as Sherlock is on my screen and I am in love and happy.

As happy and in love as I can in my today's
crippled conditions. Unfortunately I am beyond poerty here in my private hell (my very own soul-cell) and even further from true love... but, well, beggars can't be choosers. I am still grateful for having this little joy of mine. Radiating meager light of a candle in the darkness - no, not even that, the darkness a is blessing compared to the vast vaccuum I am now living in. I really don't know how to cope. Visit a therapist, perhaps. Obviously.
Well, at least, it is not a lie about how thinking in a foreing language (oh, call it a try) helps to clear youf mind a bit.

Speaking of clear minds...
Isn't Sherlock of the same bright and noble breed as House? Yes, he is. Taking into consideration that "House MD" in general is more realistic than "Sherlock" (and i still think that in the second case they ruined otherwise a great plot by adding too many psychotic characters in it - so that sometimes it looks like a pitiful comic book scenario, doesn't it? It has the dynamics, though, and thrills you all right), one may tell that protagonists are very alike in their main character traits.They both have the same pure blazing core made for dare and search of the truth. House is a little bit more mature, better socially adopted and thus more acceptable variation of Sherlock. If House is rude and insulting and pushing people away - he is doing this on purpose, out of spite, out of the agony of his physical and probably existantial pain (it might be his protest against society and its rules of "normality" or his argument with father/god figure), while Sherlock's silly mistakes in communication are often made just because he lacks some human experiences, though sometimes he has this fits of juvenile bitter stubborness just like House. One calls himself a misanthrope, other - a sociopath, and the best thing about it - neither of them is what he claims he is.
Sherlock is more emotionally broken, almost beyond repair, and thus more awkward in social interactions, unrequited - but still functioning brilliantly on an intellectual level. His hidden vulnerability wrapped in razor steel strenth makes him infinitely beautiful.

I wonder if Watson is able to percive this fragile beauty? He admires the strong and genius traits of his friend and is concerned about his well-being in general, but does he see what every girl sees in Sherlock (me now included)?
Damn him, he is probably blind. Or a desperate coward. I would like to read an in character fanfic, John's POV, not about sex or trust/intimacy issues, or romantic sops (eek, all that fluffy dating-mailing buisness in relation to Sherlock utterly disgusts me), but about lucent beauty of his mate. This stolen moments, fragments of observation, act of pure admiration... there might be hundred ways to approach the consulting detective (the only in the world!) to get his attention or reciprocation, but simple and genuine confession: "You are beautiful" - might do the trick. Of course, Sherlock just as well might miss easily all the sidelong admiring glances, dimwit, or might not he?.. And John obviosly fears to make an open-hearted vocal admission of such subtle matter. Yep, real men don't call each other beautiful or something else. Well, there is a workable way to make John a more prodigal writer: let's say, he writes about Sherlock something more personal, but not for the blog, of course, it is someting like a personal anonimus diary and one day - whoops! - oblivious doctor forgots to clean cookies and here they are: Sherlock "accidentaly" reads John's affectionate observations of him. Aaand... Well, there is a huge probability that Sherlock are absolutly deaf to literature, but may be it is still possible to shift the story in a right way. Or go without writings at all, let's it all will be presented as John's thoughts, tons of italic desperate and unnoticed tenderness... With nice descriptions of London, mmm...

Or is it better to give up the idea? Leave them alone as it is. (At least It all turned well with Irene Adler in the end, she likes him and all).

Hell, what am I doing here at almost 4 am writing in foreign language? Probabaly training for future... scribbles? Don't know. Anyway that was good. Thanks, Sherlock. You've made my - month, at least )))

@темы: In English