punch a nazi today

Did not know this.  I’ve been able to confirm the existence of the group but not that they helped 300000 people make safe landfall or aliyah. That seems a little on the high side (that’s 300 people a day almost for the three years before the establishment of the state of Israel… but I will do more research and confirm numbers unless an MOT can confirm that.)

I also learned about the Nokmim who were avengers of the shoah, who hunted Nazis right into Canada after the war. They told a former camp SS officer in Winnipeg they could kill him or he could look after it himself, and apparently he hanged himself rather than be killed by Jews, although he had just been outed by the Soviets, so who really knows. (Aleksander Laak)

As upsetting as the path to get here was, my point is that the time to punch Nazis is right now. Punching them after they’ve separated their idea of subhumans out and killed them all is too late. Nazis exist in an eternal present of punchability.

words sent

Shipped off 1500 words of HotM to mOm yesterday, always a good feeling.  Know what I am working on next, a better feeling yet. I’m at the Eyrie, and it’s darkness studded with sodium vapour lights out the window.

Went to a new schnitzel place last night and they had run out of schnitzel. Mike and I laughed and laughed, and ordered something else. The beef dip was home roasted beef – his lasagne looked like like death by cheese.

Still trying to reconcile writing supergay fanfic with the notion that this culture doesn’t treat men who are civil and affectionate to each other (whether or not they are gay) with anything like respect.

so I am cruising through the internet

and I note a Russian fan has said the following about a scene in a show

Бляяяяяять

This is pronounced Blyayayayayayatʹ and means something. Yup, if you put in in the translator on Google you get ‘shivering’. This makes total sense in context.

Out of curiosity, which seems to constitute a large portion of whatever I’m made of, I took out one of those ya’s (you can see this coming I’m sure) and it changed the meaning of the word to Shouting. So Бляяяяяять means shouting. It’s actually quite delightfully onomatopoeic.

I decided to press on through my unscheduled Russian lesson, and carefully removed another я. This still means shouting, but obviously not quite as loud and angsty.  I carefully removed another я.  You have to remove four яs before you get to the next change in meaning.

Бляяять means blaze.

Бляять means shave.

Блять means fuck.

If there’s an English word that is this magically delicious I’m all ears. AND YES I NEARLY GOT ALL THE YAYA’S OUT. (Get yer Ya-Yas out is the name of a live Stones record.)

In other news, Jeff turned on the furnace yesterday and one of my toes is gouty.

 

lovely walk in Oakalla

At the end of the walk Paul says we really should be going I am late for getting the car back to Katie to pick up Alex and I just hate stared him and leaped out of the car at Deer Lake Parkway so he could go straight home and I took the bus because if there’s one thing I KNOW about being a mom it’s the blank terror of knowing you’re going to be late to pick up your child and you’re going to get charged and they’ll hate you, which may get transferred to your kid.

So, Jeff that’s why I didn’t pick up any treats.

I have an appointment to have my test results interpreted for me at 2 on Monday. If I was dying they would have called me in faster, so I have to assume that I’m just ‘porely.’ I got about four days of relief from the gut pain but it came back in spades the day before yesterday. She’s going to bitch at me about not quitting wheat like she told me to but I’m going to fix her with my bloodshot stare (lots of staring, so much staring) and say “Did you know that a lot of selfcare is the art of the fucking possible and given that I have not consumed so much as a drop of alcohol since you told me not to with the exception of two drops of vanilla flavouring, let’s work on what I can manage thanks.”

 

Oldfud edition: don’t bother reading the rest of this

It was national coming out day yesterday. I find it entertaining that with each passing year I find myself less interested in identifying as bisexual and more as being non-binary. There’s no place in lesbian culture for me (which is fine, safe spaces and all and I can’t complain about welcomes I’ve received earlier) and I’m anti TERF (like, they’ve attacked me online, can you believe it?) and the older I get the more I take a kind of pagan godlike ‘who gives a shit about the naughty bits’ attitude. So I’m poly and non-binary because that’s where I feel I’ve settled. Next year, who the hell knows, (this sentence deleted because it was too disgusting to be funny).

izzit time to rant and roll

OLDFUD report: Who the hell knows what she’s on about but she had breakfast with Alex yesterday and is bugging Katie to forward the picture so can I go back to my paper now.

 

I’m feeling better and Mike’s back in town.

yes it is time to rant und rolle. but I’m SO LAZY AND THE CAT IS SITTING ON ME NOW AND EVERY TIME I TYPE HIS HEAD GOES UP AND DOWN

My single most liked tweet has to do with Beavis saying “Are you threatening me?” and now I feel like a big moron. But happy anyway.

 

Corrected somebody on twitter this morning it’s tenet not tenant – jesus christ now maybe the correct spelling will take up residence in your brain….

Deleted two tweets. One could have been perceived as lecturing or hectoring a person of colour, the other was a childish me too.

But what about the Intersex People? poor little SJW that I am I didn’t realize that the brand new term cisgender was going to be taking flak from intersex people but now I have to get my mouth ’round this doorknob, intellectually speaking.

I am having an interesting convo on twitter about transmisogyny though and hope to learn something before the day is done. ONE CANNOT COMPARE THE HORRORS OF CIRCUMCISION TO INTERSEX PEOPLE WHO HAVE THEIR GENITALIA MUCKED WITH AT BIRTH BY EXCITABLE PARENTS AND SURGEONS. Okey dokey then. Guess I can only do that in private.

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX

He is three.

HE WOKE UP THIS MORNING SAYING WHY and did not stop. (I got to listen to him in the car. He did not say that yesterday. But he’s three so he’s going to DRIVE US frazzled with why why why!)

Alex and Katie and I went for breakfast at Cora’s. It was lovely and I wish I’d had the brains to take a picture, but this is my take away.

He asked to have breakfast with me for his birthday.

HAPPY SIGH.

 

Also I had no idea Zelda Fitzgerald did watercolours.

to bed super early

woke up around 1:30 in much less pain than the new normal so I’m taking it as a good sign.

Somebody made me think to repost all the fanfic I took down. I’m pondering  it.

Ultrasound in 6 hours. Not being able to eat (or drink) between now and then will be a trial but I’m also thinking I’m going to eat a completely swinish late breakfast on the Drive somewhere if I’m not too messed up for it. It’s mere blocks from the clinic.

 

Sick of sick of sick of

Ultrasound tomorrow morning, other tests today if I can actually get it together to leave the frickin’ house.

Paul and Lois are off to Ontario. Their dedication to seeing their elderly mother is very heartening and they’ll also be doing the sibling and nibling thing.

Watched a number of excellent films this  past week: Baby Driver,  The 100 year old man who climbed out of a window and disappeared, and Brainstorm (Natalie Wood’s last movie).

Quitting alcohol has definitely helped. My sleep is very interrupted still though.

I have about three or four hours a day when my tummy hurts too much for me to want to do anything but lie perfectly still, except of course I can’t get comfortable.

Mike and Keith were over a couple of days ago and that was delightful.

 

listicle

she has weathered like a mountain he has shrunken like an apple

she has raged against the dimming light he has said o is it getting darker

she has been and gone he is done and dusted

she is a scandalous matriarch in a purple glass throne he is a perpetually surprised jester / major domo

she gets up in the morning he scowls at consciousness with weary contempt

she fills her days with pixels he fills his days with pixels

they fill their days with medical appointments and fixing the past

in the memories of these twitchy people from the future

this little boy