Month: June 2017

I’m leaving the opening words in a big pile hoping the strongest will come to the top.

Off for brekky and then a quick shop. I NEED MOAR CHEESE.

First thing that happened to me today was misplacing my glasses. Good thing I keep a special set of glasses in a special place for when I need to go looking for my glasses. SO it’s all good now.

Work on HOTM continues. I’m dividing the first chapter out into three; Lara’s journey, George’s ‘spinning in place’ and Kima reprising most of the mistakes she made when she got pregnant, thinking she knows it all when she really, really doesn’t. Right now she’s hanging nav lights and yelling at George to quit squirming.

I just backspaced over three hundred words of post.  Nobody wants to hear that shit, and I don’t want it to be here forever.

I’m droopy, and I’ll leave it at that.  I’m also interspersing HOTM with some really really sad fanfic, like tears in a bucket sad.

Fortunately being sad doesn’t stop me from writing, so it’s giddyap time. 

I think I’m going to enjoy writing Honey in the Moon or Honey On the Moon, haven’t figured out which I’m going with. (There’s George being perfectly still because if he moves, Kima complains.)

The man who supplied the voice for Wallace in Wallace and Gromit has passed. He was pushing 1000 (96).

I slept like 12 hours today. I just don’t want to do any work unless I’m getting paid for it LOL.

Three more shifts after this one….

 

YAY I MOWED THE WEEDS

Came home from work at 8, having picked up some groceries, made some salad, and collapsed. I literally only just woke up 20 minutes ago, which means I slept for six hours and a bit. Now it’s time to head downstairs and find out if there is anything on the pvr.

Since I’ve told everybody else who’s important, I’ll tell the world.  I resigned last week and the 8th is my last shift. It’s not prudent or mature to talk about reasons; please do assume I had them. Working midnights was not the reason. There were many others, and I’ll stay quiet.

Got a brief message from Mike; his insomnia is ragging him hard. He’ll call me later. 

Katie and Alex called, they’re coming over for coffee. I’d had a half-hearted wish to go to church this morning for the next to last service of the church year but sticky kisses from grandson come *first*.

Rowena will not stay in tune. That’s okay, the character I took her name from doesn’t stay in tune either. Hopefully my demi-luthier buddies will help me fix the problems.  Still plugging away at a tune or two.

Sent off the first 3000 words or so of Honey in the Moon to mOm, hopefully that will provide some entertainment.

Old mattress is now back on the top bunk bed and I have some room to maneuvre in here again. 

later

Mah god, playing pinball (Xenon) with Alex is now my go-to happy place The look on his face when that chuffing sound comes on is pure joy. Bwub-wub-wub-wub…

Kids and Alex have come and gone; it was lovely to have them and Jeff and I are kinda bagged all of a sudden.

I feel rather splendid though, having contrived to get mOm to speak to all of her descendants in rapid succession.

 

Calamari’s off the menu

 — all my alien friends are AIs consorting as cuttlefish 

who don’t wear clothes since it’s pointless when you never know for sure

which end your limbs will sprout from —

locavores can be boring but they’re not wrong

I want hearts of palm and freesias in winter

all flown in

I’m a fool for that deep sticky pressurized

pool of oil

 

massive and incremental

all the changes, pecked to death by ducks

 

the earth our opponent

I can’t understand how that’s supposed to work

 

space-x just launched something and I watched it in real time with Jeff

all as it should be, hardly any waste, everything visible and shared

it’s going to the ISS and it’s a good thing; a place where the Americans and Russians are demonstrating genuine goodwill, not this wild tango of unsanitary deliberate disinformation

I’m so wretched about all of that

so wretched with it

so brought low

the sun’s a fleering halfwit in a pollen tank

blinking through clouds

each string and bone of this wildhearted body torqued at random 

blinking through dry eyes and excruciating cut scenes

Flee — I’d love to — if I believed there was a place

elsewhere than a thief of progress 

for the progress (or its lack) is forever with me

whether I redeem my aeroplan points or not

I like sex and getting to the bathroom quickly. It’s amazing how those two hobbies have influenced my clothing purchases over the last ten years.

So a FN woman was commenting on twitter about her continued and risible fondness for ‘unavailable white dick’ otherwise known as ‘the flirty white dicks of nullibiety’ and I responded that I had a white hot spot of recognition. But that sounded racist even though it wasn’t, so I changed it to red hot. Realized that was definitely going to sound racist. too. Changed it to orange hot in the end, that worked. She will never know how much I revised that poem.

I didn’t know I was a masochist until I started working on my racism. Until you start to enjoy getting hurt, there’s not much progress and the learning never sticks.

Okay, the hors-d’oevres are dealt with.

(HORN STAB! Ã  la 5 Million Years to Earth!)

I was once the victim of demonic possession.

Before you put your hands to your mouths and pull down excitedly on the necks of your henleys, I must add an instant caveat, which is that no such goddamned thing ever happened. I had a brief and unintentional thought experiment pass over me, and it left a trail of wreckage in its wake that took weeks to clear.

I was at the inlaws’, and the only reading material was godly material, and under the influence of those badly written but somehow compelling works (one was a takedown of the Masons that read like it had been written by a committee of godly wackos) I started to think ‘what if I’m wrong about this whole atheism thing?’ And I felt the miasma of religion swallow, and engulf, and otherwise be rude with my person. I struggled and fought to throw the horrible ideas off; among those ideas that I was condemned to hell, that I was an abomination in the sight of God, and all those other feelings that you get when you’re in full doubt mode. 

The fact that the bed was as miserably uncomfortable is it’s possible to be while not involving sprawling on rocks in sub-zero temperatures might have had something to do with my mental agony. These things are, as they say, deeply intertwingled.

Anyway, I finally perceived the thought experiment as an external, demonic influence, a voice and a personality attempting to pierce the veil of my mind and gain control over it. It was entirely ghastly and it was easily two weeks before I was out from under the feelings and thoughts.

No, I was not subject to demonic possession. BUT I WAS RAISED ATHEIST and my parents are deeply committed to rationality and scientific enquiry and they also raised me to question my own perceptions against a large array of cognitive balancers, always a bittersweet advantage in a world where the irrational seems to mean PAYDAY but really means MAGICAL THINKING WILL SCREW US ALL.

Point being that if I can be made to briefly believe things that aren’t true, then people who sit in front of Fox all day are hosed.