Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
I got the right amount of sleep at the right time of day, so that’s a nice change. Still a snot factory though. Alex is sick too, no surprise. I miss him, it’s been more than a week since I’ve seen him.
I’m still hating Honey on the Moon and not wanting to work on it. I’m hacking away at Tarot for Atheists.
I am still streaming, but I feel a bit better today. Still have zero appetite, and that was even after Paul said he come get me for a walk and some phở but no I feel too wretched.
I can hear my lungs making little dying frog noises as I breathe or attempt to.
This is a descriptive term invented some time in the mid-oughts, for somebody who wanders around games killing people and stealing shit as a lifestyle choice
Alexios the murder hobo
ran around ancient Greece
He loved to deal out mostly dealt in violence (pron VOI LINCE)
And he dealt it out piece by piece
He’d skulk run around the market square
Inquiring if anybody needed as to anybody needing some murdering there
He’d take it on for a hefty price
And how he got it done wasn’t often the way he got things done (waaaaal) not very nice
chorus:
cause he’s a HOBO!
He’s a murderous
HOBO!
Out a-murdering…
HOBO!
He’s a murderous ….
but ya gotta love the way he loves to do his thing
Alexios the murder hobo
hailed from Thermopylae
Stabs folksbin’ people more or less at random
He really is quite one hell of a guy
He kills stabs by day, he stabskills by night
His armour gets the credit in a big-ass boss fight
He got a bird named Icarus
He always wears the cutest (sweetest) little truss and he’s a
HOBO!
He’s a murderous
HOBO!
Out a-murdering…
HOBO!
He’s a murderous ….
but ya gotta love the way he loves to do his thing
Alexios the murder hobo
has everything an Ancient Greek needs
a fabulously stellar reputation
for ugly and horrific deeds
He’ll poison…. all the boys in your crew
and come back (or creep back) in the dead of night and do for you too
CHORUS
Alexios the murder hobo
goes shopping twice or thrice a day
If I spent that much time boutiquing
My folks would have me put away
The drachmae go ka-ching
on all that shiny bling
and man, how it must sting
to pay for anything
when you’re a HOBO
Retail sucks when you’re a hobo
out a murdering
Hobo, he’s a murderous
but you got to love the way he loves etc. etc.
Alexios the murder hobo
Has ships that run on magical oars
I don’t know who they’ve got below decks
I bet that they’ve got friction sores
The sails go up, the sails come down
the rigging defies physics and then BANG they run aground
And he’s a hobo, a right piratical hobo
out a-murderin’
Hobo, it’s legitimate salvage
and you got to love the way he loves to do his thing
Chorus
Alexios the murder hobo
has one final tesk to complete
Climb up every statue on the game map
and teabag them with rhythm sweet
He’ll scramble up
He’ll scramble down
Take a screen cap in the middle
and scramble out of town
Cause he’s a hobo, a pirate thief murdering pervert hobo
out a murdering
Hobo, he’s a murdering hobo
but it’s a filk crowd and now it is time for you to do your thing
Point being, we’d be screwed in the lower mainland if something like brexit happened, and days like that are coming whether aliens show up or not.
one of the most popular Indigenous woman activists in Canada just retweeted something of mine and I bet it gets more hits than anything I wrote in 2018 by the end of the day.
Leo and Linda, unless a Catholic scale miracle takes place, will not be visiting this month. I am disappointed but glad the affected parties are getting care. It’s always such a privilege to put up family elders.
I am struggling with insomnia, transient tingling and numbness (same like before, maybe it’s migraine related with this unrelenting fucking rain), and major project block (minor projects are getting tons of love tho including Tarot for Atheists and a new asexual Cas fic just smote me, so writing is fine) and my breakfast sandwich was rancid.
That is not a colour I want to see in anything to do with the human body, but I am slowly getting better.
My crunchy chicken sandwich should be here any minute.
Sure didn’t want to leave the house; Mike offered the traditional New Years Day Sauna but I just could grok changing, leaving the house, showering (everybody showers before they go in) and then of course you have to sluice off after. I’m exhausted just thinking about all that tile.
This scene is hard, yo.
Spoke to my mOm, Keith, Dave and Mike today. I should wish Peggy and Tom a Happy New Year.
….. you will see a cluster of stuff that Jarmo says means money. He interpreted it to mean that if I could catch the wave, sort of ‘get my groove on’ I would have a happy year, and he says there’s money in there. I always discount that part. It was way important to me to get some sign I’m staying here and interesting that unlike last year, this year it’s all about me.
Pic is me, this morning. The disturbing lack of focus is to limn my extreme disappointment that my errant son is returning today and chose to give me the gladsome news that he will be sitting in his underwear watching anime no more… (at 10:30 in the morning when I got in at 3:29. I’m not actually sad to see him back and of course Jeff must be doing cartwheels to have him out of the house… I jest, they seem to get along really well. Jeff is in many respects the perfect uncle. ) The halo effect is because it’s a self portrait and you’re seeing the shadows of my arms.
Watched Festival Express with the folks last night but never made it out to the hot tub. Got to see what Mike gave Tori for Christmas, oo la la as they say. Tori is alas in NFLD, but phoned right at midnight to say hi, so Mike’s first question is What are You doing up?
Hope everybody had a safe and happy New Years. Katie of course is invisible, but I baited the trap at 8:30 last night to tell her more Buffy was coming. I anticipate her arrival around 3 pm this afternoon.
Paul’s at work.
John is off to the Island so I’m on Pokester patrol. I really should go downstairs and fondle him. He’s not a bad cat, just enormous, noisy, destructive and really really cute.
The Finns practice a form of divination on New Years Eve which is very interesting. The last one I did (at Big Purple, when Mike was still living there) I interpreted to show the four of us, being Paul and the kids, standing all together in the prow of a boat, which obviously I took to be a hopeful sign that we would all be together during the year. This year, well, now I have a digital camera, so you can get a glimpse of the beauty, complexity and oddness of this stannomancy.
I’ll do the divination part later, take a look.
