writing lines

So I’m in full bore fanfic mode, again, and my senses are completely scraped raw by anything with even a hint of a sexual flavour.

Get on the bus, and a black woman in her twenties with a triangular face and a nimbus of glorious dense brown curls blows onto the bus a couple of stops later, like a spring zephyr with a saucy bounce and a big round lollipop. She proceeds to sit behind me, like 18 inches behind me, and suck, and I mean suck with intent and fervour, on that lollipop the entire way down to the Skytrain. The two guys sitting at the front of the bus, where they could see her, starting looking kind of haunted. They literally looked everywhere but at her.

Then she follows me onto the elevator, and she’s breathing this sweet vanilla clove scent on me, and I’m like STAAAAHP.

Get on the Skytrain, running like the hammers from the elevator, laden with my gear for the Victoria trip, and the first thing I see is a tall, dark, bespectacled and pasty young man with a forelock that is either supposed to be a unicorn horn, or possibly something else, and he’s chewing on his lower lip and pulling his forelock to its full and locked position, possibly, for the sake of argument, around six inches, and I nearly burst with the effort of keeping my resting bitchface intact and run like the hammers to the front of the train and sit down.


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.