time off

I feel like I am counting off the hours to my vacation (which won’t exactly be a vacation, but at least I won’t have to work) with agonizing slowness.

It was a good weekend, but too short, and now I am back at work. Just 4 more days to go heavy sigh.

A quick roundup plus my song for July 1 2017

Called or spoke to a remarkable percentage of the people I love today and am feeling better for it. Got news out of Katie that, independent of the blast of sunlight us poor benighted and bedrenched Vancouverites received at sunset, was THE BEST. Last night was INSANELY UGLY BUSY and there’s a definite uptick of serious illness right now which I believe corresponds to having a thunderstorm during allergy season. Yeah, it’s not good.
There was a thunderstorm the other day. I’m used to thunderstorms in Vancouver – they consist of one crack of thunder, either during February (weird, hug) or late summer, not now.
Toronto trip is on.
I am feelin’ the love.

Oh yes I’m a member of the working poor
and I’ve walked the windy corridor at Yonge and Bloor
There’s always someone wealthier with more to say
And I’m just trying to get through another day

Oh yes I’m a member of the working class
and I think about Vancouver before Jack got gas
Before they took the timber out of Stanley Park
and it was still safe to be native after dark

Go ahead and mock me as a working slob
a bus ride away from a demeaning job
who gets to see exactly how the poor folks do
But I don’t expect understanding, not from you

On facebook and twitter I have found a voice
You’re the one who thinks that I should have no choice
Who wants me to be marginal who wants me to stay poor
calls me race traitor, calls me ugly whore

See my dayglo banner that says “eat the rich”
You’ll run me down cause I’m a social justice bitch
But thank you for clarifying where I stand
Every inch of Canada is someone else’s land
It’s all bound together, it will not go away
Not feeling like celebrating, not today

work eat sleep rinse repeat

Actually, there was some new ScandiNoir in there. But seriously folks, what with allergy season starting I’m pretty much flattened in the brains department. BrO was shaking his head at my frequently loser points – lost my phone, misplaced my glasses, misplaced my phone aGAIN.

And still it feels like….

I have gotten to the halfway point editing Sweep Off Those Waves. The writing’s picked up thank god it’s no longer quite as lugubrious.

Here’s some amusing film news for Jeff.

In less than salubrious news, the hopelessly racist source material of Hugh Lofting’s Doolittle books is going to make Robert Downey Jr. even richer than he already is. Yeah I know Eddie Murphy was involved in remakes, and it doesn’t take the stink off the source material.

it is still dark

and the birds are singing wildly, as if they don’t know a nuclear war is brewing. I don’t think it will happen; the Chinese, god bless ’em, are pragmatists, and I suspect they’ll squash NK like a rhino on a honey badger if it comes to it. One can expect tourism to slow to a rich man’s trickle, and a few other things.

One can always be sorry for bringing children into a world where that kind of war was possible, but that means there’s three generations of us in our family that have done that. The end of the world has always been nigh. Reading family journals in translation of having to flee various places with little money and no goods has settled me somewhat. A member of the family will survive; it may not be me.

My Scythian ancestors would tell me to buy horses and head for the plains.

I’m at the eyrie. Think I’ll go write fanfic, it’s cheaper than Xanax.

A perfect little monkey

Alex was so adorable at supper last night I nearly died. The baby at the next table said AHHHH and Alex, imitating tone, volume and duration of the AHHHH imitated the baby perfectly. He used chopsticks as a catapult for pho noodles. We were a happy family eating together and we walked there and back, so we got some exercise too. Then I went home and crashed. Paul came by at 10:30 and gave me a lift to work. I feel surrounded by love and light.

This morning Katie posts that Alex made poopy in the toidy today for the first time. Such are the joys of parenting, we take our jollies where we can. I messaged Katie to have her tell Alex I loved him and was proud of him and his response was HIGH FIVE oh god I love Katie’s perfect monkey.

Edith was repaired beautifully, very happy with Westcoast Guitars.

Busy shift.

Fanfic now totals 105K words.

I’m really happy, and now it’s time to sleep.

Phone calls

Edith is still in the shop. I’ll go fetch her on Tuesday.

I’m feeling a trifle under the weather, which is no surprise since the weather has out and out sucked these last few days.

Editing is stalled. I’m just going to take it easy today, finish my laundry. Make some phone calls. Get my working clothes ready for next week.

Edith’s coming home

Westcoast Guitars says the baby mandolin repair is done – I’ll be collecting Edith this weekend, Saturday likely.

I am up to page 106 in the edits for Sweep Off Those Waves. I’m adding a little, taking out more, and cursing my sentence construction rather more often than I should. It’s holding up okay, but it’s not as funny as I’d like. Oh god, the terrible urge to be taken SERIOUSLY doncha know?

Still writing almost 1500 words a day on the goddamned fanfic, posting as I hit chapter length. Still trying to understand this almost biological urge to keep doing it; I actually shared the term ‘graphomania’ with a fellow writer on twitter; she hadn’t been aware that such a mental state existed and told me she was doing the same thing, writing fanfic instead of producing chapters on a non-fiction work. You should have heard me howl with laughter when I read that.

The Canada 150 celebration pisses me off. We have nothing to celebrate until the T&R for the people of the First Nations is done. This is not marching with banners stuff, it’s processing centuries of repression and regulation and slow motion genocide and trying to find a way forward.

Music to my ears

You know how in real life you wait and wait to hear something from somebody and when you finally do it’s so astonishing and amazing.

I do.

It’s my own little Supernatural moment.

“You’ve had my back longer than anyone who’s currently in my life.”

YES, BECAUSE YOU ARE AWESOME. Best of all, I have no interest in owning you or telling you what to do, although I did get a little testy talking about resumes last night. If the end of your employment appears that near, it should be ready….

Which reminds me. Who knows how long I’ll be employed? I should update my own and quit yipping at others.

83K on the fanfic and no signs of slowing down.

Yes mOm I am working on the draft for Sweep off those Waves. It is going well, I’m up to page 26.

My Thursday is my Friday

Short but bracing chat with Katie yesterday morning. She’s very much being practical about the breakup, and has explained why she’s not planning on coming to live with either her father or me, although personally I think she’s a fool not to. She is apparently giving notice on the apartment and since her s/o is not on the lease that will likely end their three year experiment in cohabitation with the father of her child. We shall see.
I am rather glum; I was hoping she’d be able to tame him, but he’s too self-destructive, and while he loves Alex as a reflection of himself, he certainly doesn’t love him for his own sake, and is continually bitching Katie out for ‘raising a wimp’ which considering what her father, brother and uncles are like (caregiving in many ways without being the slightest bit wimpy) is just plain absurdity garnish for the shit sandwich he’s making of his domestic life these days.
Tonight has been insanely busy, but not with discharges, just every other kind of hell. I’m working on a migraine again; the barometer has been hopping about like it’s got St. Vitus’ Dance. I’m having a bracing cuppa to cope. Posted some more smut, since I finally got all the caveats and quid pro quos in there. I literally just posted it and it has 13 hits already, heya.

came home


I mean I watched NCIS with Jeff but then I went to bed and did not get up until 4:30, which was absolutely remarkable. Still felt tired, went back to bed. Found he’d eaten 5 cheese biscuits out of the six I bought yesterday morning so I consoled myself with toast, a Call the Midwife and then went back to bed.

I just couldn’t deal with looking at a screen. Migrainy and bilious these last few hours…


There are 1.75 hours to go on the shift, and I’ve received 22 calls, including all the calls to clear work already done. This is the slowest night I’ve ever experienced here. I think it’s raining so hard that everybody is staying off the roads; emerg is quiet.

Even if they aren’t being called for discharge cleans, the housekeepers still have plenty to do; garbage and linen for all the wards, getting the garbage chute working again, trying to figure out what six legged bugs ended up in one of the isolation rooms, etc etc but there’s really nothing for me to do except read fanfic, work on Tarot for Atheists and drink cocoa.

Today I have to call one of the companies I have investments with and ask them why I’m being placed on a waiting list to sell their crappy fund.

Still waiting to hear back from Westcoast Guitars about Edith’s repair charge. I have an estimate but you never know what you’re going to get. She got smushed at Mike’s place, prob’ly when he was moving stuff around when the windows got redone, so he has very kindly agreed to pay for the repair.

I think I’m going to put reflector tape on the umbrella I’m using, if I can get get Jeff’s permission, since I think it’s his umbrella.

NOTHING BUT RAIN RAIN RAIN smashing all the records.

today’s non-events

Got into a beatdown with a bunch of one of the most self-righteous pot activists (like there’s another fucking kind) on twitter today.

Come ON I smoke, but I don’t smoke and blow smoke in the faces of the allergic and the elderly, and they’re announcing it’s their RIGHT, because this is VANCOUVER, home of TOLERANCE. Yeah I’ll believe that when Canada gives back the unceded lands, you unregenerate failure of logic. I’m like a homophobe for harshing their mellow. Srsly. Got accused of equivalency to homophobia for objecting to people dousing the entire west end in pot smoke for their stupid fucking 420 festival (which leaves heaps of trash mounded everywhere and they’re all cryface because they didn’t get a fucking permit.) F*ck me!

I realized that when you put asterisks in f*cking swearwords you’re putting a leedle asshole right in the meedle of the word and since when you’re swearing there’s usually an asshole involved, it’s mesmerizingly poifect.

I love Buster, he’s an amazing cat. And he loves me too, I know it. I don’t think Miss Margot cares if I live or die, but Buster does.

My latest piece of fanfic smut has more than five hundred likes (it’s cute and hot, so there)

I’ve written a BDSM scene in the same ‘verse but I’m not happy with it yet. I had to put in about 200 words about how the scene is ‘necessary but non-consensual’ which kinda blows (or not!) since scenes need consent if they’re to resonate with me writing, at all. So it’s like “We’ve talked about this – I hate it when you want me (and need me) to top you but I’m s’posed to read your mind – and topping when you’re angry at your partner is a bad bad bad idea” followed by “Do what ya gotta, man, just hit me really hard.” Oh, and there are minor children in the house while this sh*t’s going down, just to make it even more like real life, and our heroes must deal with the domestic consequences of Daddies fighting. I LOVE A CHALLENGE. After all, continuing to have interesting sex after kids *is* a continuing challenge in real life. People want carefree smut? they can look elsewhere; to me smut always has a cost. Who bears it depends on who’s being responsible, or not.

Not that anybody wants to know, but I’m really not into any of those behaviours in real life. Nagging at volume is sort of where I max out, ask any of my exes.

Continuing to have the poly life discussion with someone. It’s painful. Really painful. I feel like I have my nose up again a particularly interesting window. I can smell bread baking. But no. G*ddamned heteronormative uncommunicative bushwah (on their end, not mine.) But at the same time there’s NO F*CKING POINT to becoming an elder if you don’t understand that real life takes time, opportunities for growth don’t wait, and if you don’t consider who’s going to be impacted by your decisions, your years, your grey hairs and and your learning means squat. I am still 22 in some corner of my persona, for my enthusiasms still have all the joy of my youth; I just can’t write everyone affected by my behaviour out of the script any more. I do from time to time, but not all the time.

Fortunately, since I’m pushing 60 with a broom, I can contemplate my greed like the gorram caged bear that it is. Still here, but not running the show.

Katie is still having a rough time and she and Alex are both sick again.

I am not having a rough time. I feel pretty good, all things considered. I have another two weeks of full time work. If that changes, I’ll deal with it. I actually have a plan to deal with it that I think will make almost everyone happy, at least temporarily.

Rogue One is a fucking fantastic movie. Getting eaten by Disney was the best thing that ever happened to the franchise.

Now to check if my money transfer has come through.

I light a candle

For all those who bear the burden of pain
creeping upward through sleep & outward through the day
mindless & brutal
without compromise
joints locking & failing
fire-flicker of shingles
body-soaking drudgery of fibro
tooth pain from poverty & fear & never being taught self-care
old injuries, x marks the spot where you came off your bike
& broke something
& now you have a weather-vane set steady in your bone
the pain, once mental & now physical, of loneliness & abandonment
hugs that are virtual, smiles that are absent

gnawing cancer
migraines starring the heavens when there is no light
cluster headaches killing your will as an elephant throws down a shack

for all those who live in pain from noise & dirt & rudeness
& can’t find much in civility to ease it

guts knotted, cramping & sinister & tiring
the imprisonment of arthritis & the ‘overdoing it’

adhesions & keloids & the pain of being ugly, being useless
drawing tiny breaths because big breaths hurt

the pain of not being believed that you’re in pain
& then you’re given an addiction, as well as the pain
& now pivot between addiction & pain like a mechanical bird

funnybone & needlestick & central line

diffusely aching elders forcing themselves upright in the morning

itching pain, skin rashes

lying in bed with a hot water bottle
while your cervix crushes out the wine of ‘not this month’

endometriosis & you as a warrior emerging from a bath
of inconsiderate hormones

the times as a child you lay in bed & cried because you could hear your bones growing

earaches chasing all contentment from your toddler
putrid sore throats & burning bronchi

goddamned paper cuts & cat wounds gone septic
dog bites & thoughtlessly scratched-off bug bites

Foot pain as all those little compressed bones make their displeasure known
ingrown toenails, bunions, plantar fasciitis, charley horses

Knees that click & fail

Horse kicks & bites, all the farmer’s ailments
unprivileged by weather
now’s the time to do something & pain must be endured

Repetitive strains – hands & forearms, necks & backs
we are all of us little loci of hurt and debility

eyes of sand & photophobia

mouth sores, brushed against by teeth
& pinging in the sensorium like a red light on a street corner

embarrassed people who don’t want to say
it hurts when I pee, when I screw, when I poo & I don’t know what to do
& I don’t want to talk to you
or anyone about it

Pain tells you you’re unfit, & then you get the message again
& again
& again
from the TV, the city walls, the casual blunderings of friends
the sharp hashtags of your unfriends
& you, your body telling you
not today the grocery shop or the trip to the vet
not today the movie with friends and the beer at the pub
not today
not today
not today
& probably not tomorrow

The pain of knowing what you think isn’t true
& the drugs to drag the truth back to your thinking will stack on pounds
& kill your sex drive
& hurt you in all the wild free places you still have in your brain
the pain of knowing your compliance is convenience & not much else

The pain of trying to get strong enough to be independent again
& it’s never going to happen
& the choice is always, endlessly
pain or death