Clipping along nicely, taking a little break but going right back to it. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Was pleased to hear that my practice session on Rowena this morning was pronounced pleasant by Jeff.  I only mention it because I was thinking to myself as I got super-loud at one point that Jeff really does put up with a lot.

I did not squawk like a chicken, but I did play the “When I’m Dead” song.



Tried to drown Alex at Edmonds Rec Centre yesterday, fortunately I was not successful. I am COMPLETELY out of practice dealing with toddlers. He climbed into some water that was the right depth – and then jumped into deeper water from there; some pleasant strangers handed him back to me, and he was SMILING the little BUGGER as he sank beneath the surface.

Conflikt is over for this year. I am so glad I didn’t go. I am cocooning, and as long as I’m writing I don’t care if I’m being a lazy bum.

The ground is sodden, there’s so much rain nothing is draining. I should probably check local drains, City of Burnaby is asking residents to do that.

why am I doing this

I can’t/don’t plot

why am I writing

I have no plot in my life

and yet it’s interesting

things happen

in and out of likelihood

but I was given a wall of words

the day I was born

and some of them are here still

although that wall now sits

at the bottom of a well

I pull and pull on that damned rope

that moves the bucket

bringing water from the well of words

each drop infused

with something odd and viral

but it tastes of home

& home is what I mean to plant

cloud seeding


between the stars

and here

between your ears


I honestly didn’t believe I wrote anything yesterday but this morning’s word count makes me a liar.

Reason I adore Paul #46548

He drove all the way back from Seattle (which is where Conflikt is) to partay filkwize with me, Cindy, Tom and Peggy and DOUGLAS who wasn’t DOGLESS.

Petal is so cute with her widdy tongue hanging out of her face. Her fur is so soft I get kinda dreamy and melty when I pet her.

Oh man, that was a really really nice housefilk. I feel… cleansed. Cleansed by harmonizing Unexpected on the fly with Cindy. Happy sigh.

Anyway Paul will drive back to Seattle today and come back Monday or Tuesday.


Weather continues unbelievable rainy but the threatened 5 cm of  oobleck did not occur.

Beta reader solicited

I’m re-reading the bizarre little novel I wrote (Sweetie’s House of Tentacles, a misleading title if ever there was one) when I decided to fanfic my own universe with some slash and now I’m having issues, because I am only now noticing that I very stupidly advanced the series arc therein.

Now I have to either rewrite half a dozen chapters so I can jam them in the novel I’m working on, or tapdance creatively in some other way. “Previously in the Upsun series, in a short porny novel that I’m charging thirty bucks for to prevent people from reading it because it’s essentially slash with a *ludicrous* premise,

yes, even more so than usual!

and published without the assistance of an editor — ” and then fill in the blanks.

Beta readers solicited. I’m in negotiations with someone in the Low Countries, an early fan.


Anyway, I’m re-reading plus editing, and shown below is the dialogue that cracked me up this morning. The book’s a soap opera, but really entertaining; I wrote it immediately prior to starting MMCo.

“Right,” said Marty. “How do you feel about marriage?”

“It’s a complete waste of time and a criminal enterprise with better press than the Pope,” Jesse said, promptly and cheerfully.


I’m not coming anywhere close to making wordcount, but oh well. Life continues and dribs and drabs become books.

I am feeling an Alex deficiency, but also deficiencies in other people’s company. I think if it isn’t raining too hard or too cold today (Paul and I watched wet snow fall from the relative safety of the hot tub at Edmonds pool yesterday, and yes I did swim laps, I didn’t just poach maself) I’m going to do a shop and go to the library and maybe pick up eggs and butter and almonds and hazelnuts and dried apricots for biscotti so I can take some to the housefilk which is ‘replacing’ Conflikt, since none of the Vancouver contingent are going.  Cindy’s hosting on Friday. Paul can’t come – he’s going to Seattle, grr, and the grr is ‘but we’ve been practicing, why can’t he play!!??’. But Tom and Peggy can. So, yay.

This is the second Conflikt I’ve missed since it was established. I’ll go again when 45’s out of office, or earlier if I can put down this feeling that I’ll end up in a gulag mocked by guards over my fat white neediness.


timmy hos

Off to Tim Horton’s this morning for coffee and croissants; Jeff was the founder of that little feast.

Our experiment with Sunday Dinner for the kitties is likely drawing to a close – it makes Buster poopy – or so we surmise.

I’ve been editing fanfic all morning. I am obviously quite, quite insane.

the sun came out and my room’s all lit up

It’s quite cheering. We finally dug into that tourtière and while I love it, the Pie Hole will never again tempt us to buy a $38 pie.

Yes, you read that right.

Now the ingredients are choice and all that, but brOJeff was not a fan of the crust or contents, there being something in it that mayhap disagreed with him.

I really liked it, as I think I mentioned, so I get to finish it I imagine.

30854 is the new word count. Plumping up and pruning, plumping up and pruning. Fixing bad verbs and placemarker sentences. Reading it aloud to myself, getting the phrasing right, how would the character say it, how would their upbringing and languages spoken growing up and in university affect their speech. What verbs do the sixers never use, and why is it that they sound so vague all the time? Anyway, not much writing but lots of thinky thoughts.


Spoke to Dave and went for a walk with Paul yesterday, also fed Paul leftover Chinese food. Heard from Mike; he’s back from whatever rural hellhole in Trumpland he was shipped off to last.

Sadly, the Wayward Sisters intro through Supernatural was not that good. Every time they did the staring at somebody while something emergent is happening – and they did it five or six times at least in an hour, which sucks – I wanted to throw something Nerfy at the screen. Oh well. I wore my hoodie anyway.


eyeroll wrong day

The indigenous arts thing is today, not yesterday; Paul and I sang and played for a while here (he wasn’t prepared and was having a hell of time with remembering words but we laughed and sang and played anyway, so there) and then went to his place where we worked on household finances splitting for a while which was interesting (helping him set up a spreadsheet) and then Katie came home and told, rapidfire, a very droll standup routine about her job, and fixing machines at work, and how she’s covered one end to the other in bruises, which you’re gonna be if your brand new to the ‘moving marble’ game. Then I begged her to take me with her to pick Alex up and his smile was almost enough to power me through a week and Katie dropped me off.

Laundry is complete in the sense that the clothes are clean and dry.

Thinking about that tourtière but I have to get through the leftover Chinese food first.

Fringe final season is really about how we’re all doomed without love; I currently feel like I have plenty. I’m not suffering from family strife and dislocation right now, so I’m above the happiness waterline, whatever my stupid brain and weird biochemistry has to say about things.

Just had the most amazing and wonderful convo on line with an old dear friend. She’s got hard times but lots of joy anyway, and I love her. OMG THIS IS WHAT SHE SAID ON FB ABOUT THAT CONVO


This morning, I had the longest facebook messenger convo of my life and it was, with little exaggeration and without getting into personal details, a life saver.
Technology really can overcome distance and give you meaningful connections with people far away.
Reach out to your friends, and you will get and give support in ways you can’t imagine.
We all need each other.
I am grateful and thankful for the love and support of my girlfriends.


I JUST MISTOOK AO3 FOR AOL in a convo and I’m like the picture of an embarrassed boomer. And there may be one person who reads this blog who understands the reference.

Somebody on facebook said tell us 10 books that stuck with you.  Since I could just yell DOROTHY DUNNETT FUCK YEAH and sit back down again I purposely left her out of the list. Instructions were spend no time on it just pick the 10 books you remember as meaningful and memorable and here they are.


The Gift of Fear, Gavin de Becker
The Gnostic Gospels, Elaine Pagels
You Just Don’t Understand, Deborah Tannen
Sex Time and Power, Leonard Shlain
Forty Rules of Love, Elif Shafak (This is the book that gave me permission to structure my novels the way that works for my brain, kinda untraditional but still with a clear thruline)
Sandman comics, Neil Gaiman et al
Maus, Art Spiegelman
Conundrum, Jan Morris
A Distant Mirror, Barbara Tuchman
Kingdom of Carbonel, Barbara Sleigh
I’m trying to think of if these books have anything in common beside the fact that I read them, but it may be interesting to see the threads….
The Gift of Fear taught me that even if little girls are supposed to comply, if you’re scared BOOK IT. I avoided gang rape by following this book’s advice. You don’t forget a gift like that.
The Gnostic Gospels, as well as exposing me to the 1400 mystery cults that were apparently coexisting in Palestine and environs in the early years of Christianity, exposed me to Sophia, the presence of wisdom, as female. I’m an atheist but it was a telling moment. Also, the Bible was not dictated by God! and it was hidden and reworked and assembled like the world’s fugliest philology convention had a speed dating/face punching round! Thanks, Elaine!
You just don’t Understand taught me that men are judgemental assholes, real fucking clownbags, morons, hypocrites and straight up manipulating jerks when it comes to communicating with women, and I can turn that to my advantage if I want to completely forget how I was raised. Essentially it analyzed, in broad terms, the communication styles of men and women, mostly from English language research, and I learned that men really suck at communicating but judge women for their style because it isn’t theirs, while we have to learn everything about the way men communicate or they’ll fucking rape and kill us. Unless they’re among the little bubble of men I hang out with, who just aren’t into that. I did learn one very useful trick when talking to men and I must use it every week or so. I’m not going to tell you what it is, and besides you’re still mad at me for calling men clownbags so just hang on to that rage kids.
Sex, Time and Power – Jeff gave it to me for Christmas fourteen years ago and I read it in one sitting. It made a lot of sense to me. My new understandings of the underpinnings of society being buttressed by the crypto nature of women’s reproductive systems (in terms of ovulation) and the non-crypto nature (in terms of menstruation) were absolutely crucial to how I structured sixer sexuality, and how it would impact their ‘society’.
Already let you in on how important Forty Rules of Love was to me. Tammy gave me that.
I’m not going to talk about the Sandman comics; you should read them, if you haven’t.
Maus. It took me THREE REREADS to understand the ending, and then my heart broke, and rebroke ever single time I thought about it for almost a month. An unbelievable work of art, of homage to his difficult, opportunistic, racist (after Auschwitz/Oscwiecem, oy), hoarder, judgemental father, of historical reckoning, of emotional truth.
Conundrum got my foot on the path to wanting to understand the transgender experience. Morris was privileged in ways many transgender people aren’t, and doesn’t really address that too much in this work, which I read in paperback in the early eighties, before Kimberlé came up with intersectionality. Transgender activists are now among my strongest, strangest and funniest teachers as I slide down the rest of my life arc.  I thought about my perceived gender and my felt gender quite a bit over the last ten years, and my feelings are complicated enough that I don’t want to talk about them in public. I will say that I’m happy with the body I was issued and have no complaints or plans for revision on that score, mostly so my parents can sit back down and unbug their eyes.
A Distant Mirror. I find it absolutely hilarious that when myself and a potential new friend are talking books, this one comes up. Almost every intelligent person I know who speaks English has read it. SOMEBODY MAKE A FUCKING MOVIE ABOUT THE SIRE DE COUCY Calice, tabernac.
Kingdom of Carbonel is the middle book of a trilogy of talking cats novels written in the period between the late fifties and the early seventies. Of all the children’s books I ever read this one comes closest to limning how kids feel about ‘summer friends’ the families and children you only see when school’s out. Gone Away Lake is the next best example of that.
Are there any common threads? I read non-fiction and am changed by it more than fiction. The fiction I read must broaden my perspective, open my heart, and challenge my vocabulary. But the non-fiction is what goes under my foot and in my hand; it is my connection the real world of unfolding understanding of how the grand scheme of things and the most trivial of pastimes are all of a piece.