One of my favourite filkers played a drinking game with himself while watching the Democratic debate last night, and then live blogged it. He was pretty smashed by the time he stopped, and his wife was carefully hydrating him at last report. It was pretty funny.

Still no plan or commitment to end police violence.  Bernie is using all the right words, but they don’t add up to “We will take the following steps to end deaths during custody and confinement”. This is the standard that the black activists I follow on twitter are politely asking for, and it is not adding up to a plan.

When they point it out to white people (or wypipo, as it sometimes appears on twitter much to my amusement) the mostly male Berniestans LOSE THEIR CHEESE.  The stuff they say to people like Imani Gandy @AngryBlackLady (lawyer, feminist and CHRIST can she throw shade) and Elon James White (who is straight up one of the funniest, kindest, nerdiest and clearest thinking humans I’ve ever run across, while still being uncompromisingly stern with racist assholes) and Ta-Nehisi Coates (‘ta na hezzy) who is an awesome prose stylist and an atheist, and you try being an atheist in black culture, Abiyomi Kofi, the Gullah-Indigenous intersectionalist, and I dare you to say that when you’ve been drinking, and Wagatwe Wanjuki, activist against gendered violence — is absolutely disgusting.  All these people get shit from white people on the internet, in an ever flowing stream of bile, bad spelling, shitty science, gendered slurs, racial slurs, and yet they rise every day and try to hack through the thickets of law, media and custom to get to a place where anything but equality is unthinkable.

The Zika virus is unlikely to be causing the microcephaly cluster.  It is much more likely to be a previously unknown teratogenic effect of a Monsanto larvicide which started being added to the water in large swathes of the affected areas in 2014.

So I am looking at this horror show and thinking, wow.  Monsanto sells MORE LARVICIDE to get rid of the mosquitoes. The various government health bodies pay out money for larvicide and reap the hellish bounty twice: Once when the larvicides quit working and forever when microcephalic children are born.

The governments involved may say it’s a fair price to pay to keep the working population healthy enough to you know, work.  Screw the kids, they’re all poor anyway.

As for Zika virus being found in sufferers, it’s present in 75% of the population in that state anyway.  Not a clear signpost.


This ol’ world sucks a mop.  But it’s the only one we got, and I need to help make it better.


Dawww Buster

Sweet little nose kiss for Margot when he came home this morning, it was adorable.  Margot is acting off colour, but she just misses Jeff’s keyboard as a perch I think, and she did eat this morning so she can’t be that bad.

Played with Buster downstairs for a while.

No writing progress, but I finished the bridge for Blues for an Orange Sky.



Laughed SO HARD.

Buster likes to hide behind the shower curtain and attack my backscratcher through it. This morning Miss Margot joined the partay, and Buster’s response was to jump up and shove Miss Margot off the edge of the bath. She slid to the floor, looking hard done by, and then he leaped over her head and fled the bathroom in as hilarious a display of athletics as I’ve ever seen.

Then Margot followed him and slapped the end of Buster’s tail for spite, (the only part of him still visible from inside the bathroom and a completely pointless effort, since she’s about as effective in that regard as a plushtoy) which made him run down the stairs at about 30 k. Margot is sitting at the top of the stairs quacking to herself in a very self-satisfied sort of way.


It was lovely to see Alex, he was in great shape. Katie is well but always clinging to the underside of exhaustion. Her SO is working and I am sure he’s happy to be working, I know I would be.

Blues for an orange sky

I don’t want to die here
not if I have a choice
took almost three months for NASA to know
I still had a voice
First day was bad, got inside
half urine and half blood
Then I set myself on fire
to make a little mud

I got blues for an orange sky x2

You think you know alone?
I’ll give you alone
standing at sunset under two moons
upon this barren stone
Captain o my captain come back and make it right
get a steely eyed missile man to calculate your flight

I got blues for an orange sky x2


Biscotti will be distributed in Victoria to the Richly Deserving, and my mOm has already made a good start on it. pOp too I do suspect.

Hey that was HUMOUR YESTERDAY.  More than two gerunds in a sentence is a clue. Of course I’m angry about drivers in Vancouver, it’s impossible to live here in any capacity and not be.  But not head for the gunracks mad, that’s too difficult.

Katie and Alex are due here later this morning.  I’ll try to get her to send some pics while she’s here.



35891 – Vancouver driving rant

Vancouver drivers are really random. Something like forty thousand people turn up here every year and they’ve never driven in these conditions, you know, the special hell that is Vancouver conditions, which can change, with Vancouver bicyclists, who are all masochists, and Vancouver pedestrians, who are all on their cell phones and wearing clothing that indicates the citizenry is participating in some particularly aggressive act of mass mourning, or possibly a wish to be killed by a car and thus miss the rest of the Vancouver winter, or perhaps these newcomers to Vancouver don’t drive at all, or have never driven in any country where human life has more meaning than the ten bucks they need to give you a decent funeral including a reading from a dude in a dress. So in addition to the fucking assholes who know what they are doing and are only too happy to demonstrate it in their noisy, whining chariots of penis worship, we have a broad assortment of clueless wimps with baloney skins for tires.

Vancouver drivers are the kind of people who will weld their brakes stopping for a squirrel and then clip a granny at a crosswalk at seventy k without blinking.

Vancouver drivers have such pretty cars! Such expensive cars! none of which seem to have functioning turn signals.

Vancouver drivers treat the distracted driving laws passed in 2010 as “goidloins”. Everybody knows you should not text and drive, and virtually everybody I know with the exception of my son, my brother, my ex and me does it (we had a family member killed by distracted driving so we’re REAL crabby on the subject.)

I’ve asked cabbies to pull over to finish their conversation and had them argue with me! I’ve had cabbies try to find out where they are going on a cell phone GPS while driving dangerously and arguing with me about whether they should pull over or not.  The guy was so fierce he threw me out of the cab, and the licensing commission never returned my call, so they go on the list of Vancouver drivers I fucking hate. I didn’t have to pay for the ride though, so I guess I won that round. And I’ve lost track of how many cabbies drive away before my belt is on and ignore me when I tell them to pull over when I’m done.  Is it misogyny or stupidity? Why not both?

I hate people who don’t know what fucking lane they are supposed to be in. ON A BRIDGE.  How can you not know what fucking lane you’re supposed to be in when you’re crossing one of the lower mainland’s fine death traps, like the Patullo Bridge, which has such narrow lanes that I’m constantly getting other people’s side mirrors stuck in my teeth, and where some fucker in a truck from Alberta did actually try to kill me last year. Jeff toooo.

I hate the fucking fuckers who fucking completely fucked the fucking intersection at Willingdon and Deer Lake Parkway. Those ratfondlers should be dipped in boiling recycled cooking oil and have their interfered-with corpses left for the crows.

I hate with the force of a gamma ray burst all those festering hemorrhoidal pustules on Satan’s ass who designed the signage for the roads coming back from the Tsawwassen Ferry.

Sessile B de Me

Day 491 of being a grandparent.  It certainly makes more kinds of fun possible.

Not really feeling much like moving. There are leftovers to be et.  I made a regular size batch of biscotti and am hoping I will be able to forward a few to Victoria.  I need to send at least six to Juliana and her krewe and Editrix should get at least two although I suspect she’ll want at least four for comparison and so she and her esposo can reasonably discuss them.

They did not rise properly but they are still quite airy and crunchy.  It’s always something…



Conflikt was lovely.  Cindy got out her books, pointed meaningfully at Lady of Komarr, and we sang in a circle which had GONE VERY VORKOSIGAN if you know what I mean.  I wanted to sing Ivan You Idiot but Cindy and I drew a blank on the tune and I didn’t feel like fleeing to the reg area to listen to it.

Roberta and Juliana fed Cindy and I a LOVERLY Thai dinner and attendant earflapping and I asked Cindy to crash in my room (I always get two doubles, just in case) since she wanted to stay another night but had already checked out and man those 32 db attenuation foam earplugs are amazing.  I couldn’t sleep because of JT’s Coffee Cordial (the cocoa cordial was simply phenomenal) but after a while I did and then I let Cindy’s phone alarm go for half an hour while I composed a tune to go along with it.  Then I wrote another song and still she did not awaken.  That lassie is a sound sleeper.  But I was watching her sleep with her cpap on and thinking my god what a good night of sleep she’s having.

Trip north with Jackie Mitchell blasting from the con cd (and Vixy and Tony’s fall about with amusement Santa Baby and Kathleen Sloan’s exCRUCiating filk of Do you want to build a snowman? – Do you want to build an Iron Man? which had me squeeing from word one and TJ’s version of Lullaby for a Weary World I kept having to skip because I’d get all weepy, like that never happens these days.)

HARMONIC MAYHEM performed TAPIOCA with six voices and it was freaking awesome. Tom and Peggy and Jeri Lynn and Jeff and Cindy and Callie were AMAZING as Harmonic Mayhem, and when you’re an international filk group practicing be hard.  Callie was part of the filk supergroup Echo’s Children as was Cat Faber who was sadly not at con but lots of people sang her tunes so she was kind of there anyway.

No writing progress, but a nice long walk yesterday with Paul and then the boys came over for The Adventure of English and Paul stayed for chinese food.

Now a great wave of desire for coffee comes over me.


At the convention, having a lovely time.  Missed Cade’s concert but caught the deliciously English Jacquie Mitchell’s do, and she did this operatic Star Trek song that had all of us on the floor. ALSO Jeri-Lynn and Shawna singing harmonies for the long song about fairy tale lies and I GOT ARM CHILLS LISTENING TO THEM.

Then Jacquie sang a song about Mills and Boon and GOD mOm I wish you’d been there, it was wizard.

Lem was in a state of bliss after this concert. He was scarcely intelligible he was so happy.

I sang in songbook circle last night just the once (Invective) and said, “This is a song about my ex’s girlfriend, and about how she’s the worst person on earth and how badly I hate her guts, even though she’s not a bad sort really” which got a big laugh. The song made it into the Conflikt songbook thanks to Cindy, and hey she asked for it even though I’m not particularly proud of that song anymore, so I sang it with all the music hall gusto (pace Jacquie) I could muster and got a kindly response.

I had a nice long sit in the con suite yesterday.  I showed up just before lunch which allowed SaladofDoom to make a soda run, and I cleaned up after an elderly fan who left SO MUCH FOOD DEBRIS ON THE FLOOR That I, Even I, felt compelled to clean up after (them). But that was okay because I got the full story on the Death Of Forry Ackerman, which is about as sad and internet messy as things get. Then Frank showed up.

I have to admit that I would listen to Frank Hayes back up to a microphone and fart. I might even pay for it. He played a hilarious song about reincarnation last night in the big room in open circle and yes, he pretended to forget the lyrics.  Yesterday he held forth on the n dash and the m dash, the Oxford comma, one or two spaces after a period, and provided me with some insight as to why things are the way they are in editing land.

I defended my punctuation choices by stating that I come to prose through poetry and give punctuation points not because of ‘the rules’ which are arbitrary place markers of contemporary taste and the laziness of typesetters and the ongoing rear guard of bitching assholes about how English must be defended against all comers at all costs, at which point someone, I think Lem, said, “Which English, there are rather a lot of them…”

I’ve shown a lot of people the cover mockup for Hair Sinister.

Tom and Peggy came from a funeral.  Tom lost a best friend and I feel for him so. His friend was a sailing partner and now that part of life (including the shrimp traps NOM) is much truncated for him. LIFE SUCKS YO.

Got the front pew scoop on the polyamory shitstorm at the Newton church in Maine. VERY INTERESTING STORY and I kept thinking, as I listened, Oh this would never happen at Beacon and then realized that it already had when John S. shut me and Peggy down from putting polyamory on the table for our Welcoming Congregation efforts back in the day. I was ecstatic when he and his wife quit the church over not getting their way about the minister.  Which is sort of what I did, so I’ve got a big crunchy cud of reflection on that when I have the strength. But really I was tired of people who are demented asking me if I have a job yet.  You’re not allowed to yell at demented old ladies, it’s not nice, and since I can no longer guarantee that I’ll keep my temper or not cry (probably more to the point) under those circumstances I’m going to stay home.  Oh, and I had a long time church member tell me WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT HAPPY HERE WE LET YOU BE ON THE BOARD AND WE KNEW YOU WERE POLY.

Helluva thing to say to someone WHO WAS ACCLAIMED. I’ll just let you sit with that two seconds. And they begged me to be Treasurer, so it’s all a bit much really. When your welcome is contingent on a positive answer for “what have you done for us lately” it’s no welcome, it’s a fucking scam. Which is not to say I wouldn’t recommend the church to a young family or an older seeker, but in many ways it’s become a closed religious club for those who still survive of the founders.

But the really big news from yesterday is that one of my all time fave coworkers – Sandy P – with whom I never got to actually work since she mostly worked from home in WA while I was in BC, drove to see me at the hotel and we had beers and LAUGHED OUR ASSES OFF.  She is a total mensch and I loves her.  It was a great day, and I was in bed by midnight, so I’ve essentially missed all the good filking for YET ANOTHER CONFLIKT.  Ha. Time to get some brekky – I may walk up the street to Denny’s.



Lovely day of writing yesterday, plus a walk in the rain with Paul, (walked to beer store, but it’s good to have goals, right, RIGHT??), plus Paul came over to watch some New Tricks with us.  He was very complimentary about the chili, which made me happy, as it’s hard for just Jeff and I to work our way through it by ourselves.

All in all a very satisfactory day.

Check out the man who does not shovel.


OMG the grind I need a change of scene. OH WHAT’S THIS I’m going to Conflikt at the end of the week for the weekend! so don’t expect that word count to move much until next week. I’ll be gone Friday and back sometime on Monday.

No word on whether Mike is joining me yet. Paul plans on day trips but staying with Janice to dodge hotel feels, I mean fees. I’ve rented a car for Friday just in case.

I haven’t been practicing much but I’m so looking forward to just being there and listening.  I’ve been very tense with waiting for my turn to play in the past but if I go this time with no expectation except The Traditional Steak Dinner with Blind Lemming Chiffon (which he may dodge this year, he says he’s dieting) and the Filkenchantment Orchestra that is the luncheon, so more food than singing. And I get to see bunches of people I don’t normally get to see.  Happy sigh.

cazart doldrums

But the kitchen floor is swept and the rugs washed.  Every time I put down fresh rugs Buster puts a footlong skidmark on the one closest to the fridge, and I hate looking at them.  Clean your bum, duDE!

Word count is now 33260 but I feel like I’m gonna be Penelope on everything I’ve written the last three days so I’m not going to count em up until later.

I want to lie in the sun for a week; I feel like contentment is purring next door and I can’t leave the house (not literally true – went for a walk yesterday with Paul which was very pleasant and yes mOm he got the family history books.) Not hearing back from the job interview doesn’t lift my mood. Every time I go for an interview I’m knocked off course for a while as I panic and think I’ll never finish this novel if I get a job and start thinking very very Marvin-ish thoughts.

So PM me if you want me to keep writing.  I’m a little shrivelled at the moment.