So one of the things that is happening with media concentration is that you can mix and mash characters together. Such has happened with the ghastly cartoon Scooby Doo and the equally ghastly Supernatural TV show.

I have one comment… am I the only person in the universe who noticed that Jensen Ackles was using his normal speaking range as an animated character, as opposed to the chockfulla gravel voice he uses as Dean? That startled the hell out of me. Because he sounds like he’s sixteen years old, it’s kinda freaky. What’s really freaky is we spn fans hear his normal voice in interviews etc all the time so why it would bug me…

There were a couple of good laughs and even though I was looking I never saw the IRL Mystery Machine that was supposed to be background in the live action shots.

anyway it was average with high marks for fan service



I love how (especially since Homicide and Buffy the Vampire Slayer) music is more intelligently integrated into contemporary TV, making emotional highs and lows even more so.

I hate how, despite reams of angry shit written about it, teleplay writers keep using stupid, racist, trite words like ‘off the reservation’ and ‘on the warpath’ and ‘warpaint’ and ‘cotton pickin’ mind’ and BLEEEESH just stop it.

Lovely singing and playing at Planet Bachelor yesterday. We worked on “Me and Bill”, Tweetweetwee, and diverse other choons. I’ve actually left Otto there to facilitate singin’ and playin’

I left my phone and the stuff Keith retrieved for me there, oh well I have a key and can get it anytime.

It was also lovely to see and talk to Keith for a while. He is such a cool dude.


all I ever wanted

was a brand new organ

something deep inside me

that I couldn’t explain

when I pull it out

and stick it on a slide

it just disappears

there it goes again —


I don’t mean to say

that anatomists

are all observationally numb (numb, numb, numb)

but in its absence

was an implied presence

interstitium (um, um, um)

interstitium (um, um, um)

interstitium (um, um, um)






They aren’t in bed, but close enough. Two AMABs who fall in love because they work together, what a surprise.

This novel has ZERO ACTUAL SEXUAL DESCRIPTION in it. There’s hugging, kissing, nudity, references to sex like blowjobs, but nothing descriptive.

I put all the homo sex sequestered behind a thirty dollar paywall, or will when I finally proof it. I think that is a good compromise for people who really don’t want to read that stuff, like my mOm. (“I’ll read it, it’s just not my favourite part!!”)

Anyway as you can see from the numbers I got to the halfway point. I think it’s reasonable to think I’ll have a first draft by the end of June.

A wonderful selection of Futurama stills.


Man it’s taking forEVer to get those two clowns into bed.  Anyway.

Today is the #Marchforourlives.

The Vancouver march will be from Jack Poole Plaza, where Tammy and I went to the world’s most unsatisfying and expensive Christmas Market (the weather didn’t help) to the US Consulate, starting at 10.

I always want them to start with a group meditation, but instead it’s student speeches and then marching.

I wish I felt like going, but I’m using my strength for FNMI sponsored marches – such as it is, since it was three days before I stopped limping from the last one.



Keith got back okay from Victoria and dragged all the stuff I forgot back. Yay

Writing continues.

My passport arrived – about a month faster than I expected. I have commenced planning my Iceland trip.

quiet day yesterday after the shop

42555 is the wor(l)d count

I’m polishing chapters and writing new stuff at the same time. I often get into that mode, where I’m working on one chapter and rewriting the next.

Just gave someone on twitter shit for naming three of the four actors on a movie that they’re podcasting about and the only person they don’t name is black. BOKEEM WOODBINE IS AN AMAZING ACTOR YALL I’ll watch him in anything.

daycard is the devil – I should have some fun (looks out window FTN) OR I should try to eat enough fibre today.

Poul Anderson’s wife Karen Anderson passed away March 18. Her importance to my life is that she’s the person who first deliberately used the world ‘filk’, which previously had been a typo. She’s also Greg Bear’s mother in law.

omnibus post

Third season of The Last Kingdom is shooting, we’ll see it in the fall on Netflix. Bernard Cornwell, the writer of the novels, is going to get a cameo in this season, and he said, most sweetly, that he hopes Uhtred will swear at him.

It was amusing catching Peter Jackson’s cameo as he got whacked in the LOTR.

The message on the wind (a very powerful inner voice which is occasionally correct)  is irritating the crap out of me right now. I’m getting consistent messages to a) get a dog b) get a kitten. I am not doing either of those things, jeez Louise.

Buster and the rest of our household are still sad, but we’re not freaking out any more and the possibility of contentment once again exists in mental outlook.

Keith is off to Victoria this week and I’m very very happy he’s going. It is wonderful to have family to visit.

I was going to rant about various things but I’m feeling too peaceful. This is a good sign.


so long facebook I mostly enjoyed it

Sent to my facebook friends, all 280 odd of ’em.

I’m in the process of deleting this account; I’ve started downloading my ravings over the last decade or so just in case there’s something in there worth stealing for something else. I tried doing it before, but the latest news from Facebook is like going to the doctor and being told to change or die. Or it’s like being yelled at by Uncle Moshe that the Nazis will kill every Jew in Vienna and the cold blast of fear that shoots down your back when you’re finally believing him.
It’s realizing that we ‘made’ this dystopia because somebody good-looking held a door open and we walked into it, unaware that through that door was an entirely colonized future. If we complain about this state of affairs, we may be asked “Well – what did you expect for free?” which, like all colonialism, ignores that we are actually having items and data stolen from us, ‘for free’, which remains theft, even if you scandalize capitalism and fail to charge for noticing it.
Damn me if I don’t draw a line somewhere.
Filkers will see me when I’m flush enough and feel safe enough to travel.
Anybody on my FL in Vancouver (or Victoria or Seattle) can pretty much drop by for tea anytime with a couple of hours’ warning.
Family, hey there.
If you like what or how I write, I have almost fifteen years of almost daily blog posts and a rather daunting amount of ‘collected material’ on many subjects squirrelled away at I’m me at gmail. I suck Greyhound Bus Terminal men’s room floor mops at texting, so email me if you feel like it.
I have learned many interesting things from you all, and I will miss your friendship and companionship, sympathy and course corrections. I will miss you documenting your slide into debilitating illness without turning into a horrible person, and I will miss your aptitude for bringing me things I found genuinely interesting and enlivening, your encounters with critters, the hours and battering hours spent framing social justice concepts. The food, you great load of swine. The Food.
I mean no offense to any of my swine-avoidant friends, and they’re long past the eyeroll stage anyway.
I’m angry, but I’ll do my best to be kind.
As a coda to this, for my fellow literary sf fans. Is there another fan out there who thinks that the Demopol in Herbert’s The Dosadi Experiment feels similar to what Facebook has morphed into? PPS still think it would make a bad ass movie.

6 am start

Katie’s coming to fetch me at 6. We may or may not get on the 7 am ferry, but that’s okay since there are a pile of things to do in the terminal, most of which involve preventing Alex from running into a total stranger’s ass at 30 kph and spending money, but at least we’d be out of the wind.

Buster has been droopy since Margot passed so Jeff’s taking him to the vet today.

Continuing to plug away at the novel. The non-binary boys are having a discussion as to whether the bling Jesse brought back from Iceland is an engagement ring and it really is not since Jesse would marry with a gun to his head and under no other circumstances. They’re poly queers, marriage is bullshit. Birefringence is a property of moissanite, y’all.