blurb today

Born in western Mi’kma’ki in 1958, settled in S’ólh Téméxw since 1996, Allegra Sloman works across a broad range of word forms, including written correspondence with friends and family, homilies, ranting, poems, a conlang called ‘bih-bah’ based on the sounds basketballs make going through hoops, twenty tweets a day, open letters, teaching a cat to speak, songwriting, standup comedy, essays, daily blogging, fanfic, parody, and short stories. She is also self-publishing SF novels which are available at Much of her material is available at under creative commons 2.5.

More writing games

  1. I do not remember
  2. a spy
  3. Destiel fic in which the Dean character rescues the Cas character from a landslide
  4. Well it changes every day so I guess finishing “The Sword that Cries Ruin!” which is another fanfic which is already over 200K long
  5. Cochin.
  6. Scrivener
  7. Don’t have one. I guess Brainpickings comes closest.
  8. A.M.
  9. David J. Dowker, but unfortunately our writing process isn’t compatible. He’s a cogitator and I’m a pantser.
  10. fuck you it’s the published books I care about LOL
  11. ERM all of them? I do like Wine Gums
  12. Typing. Handwriting is for when I’m more thoughtful and less reactive.
  13. High fantasy. I’ve had stabs at it but they never ‘stuck’.
  14. Probably mystery. PLOTS MAKE ME DIE INSIDE.
  15. HAW HAW I bet anyone who knows the UPSUN series already knows the answer to this and the answer is yes.
  16. Name first.
  17. I don’t write heroes and villains because I reject the reductionist and colonial approach to plotting. (JUST TRY AND PROVE THAT WRONG.)
  18. JUST THREE ARE YOU HIGH. Jane Coaston. My God. It doesn’t matter whether she’s writing about college football or racism or local politics, there’s just something so crisp and clear about her writing. @apebbleinthesky is so wonderfully discursive about left wing politics without ever getting into the namecally stuff…@mssinenomine (Gabrielle Peters) is also a fiery fiery writer.

I’m wearing Loki’s rune after all

This popped up this morning, evidence that I don’t need much inspiration for a poem:

From the yew-grove to the valley of the fallen
I shall travel with my bow, my knife, my faithful dog
Under the light of the ancestors, bright now,
Dancing the heavens, I shall walk with my thoughts
And my shadow, cast green along the snow,
Until the tale of all my deeds is told
And Freya gathers me into her field at last

So, there isn’t just Valhalla. There are two other places the dead go. Freya has a field called folkvangr (pronounced folkwongs, just to mess you up) where she gathers half the dead. The Allfather gets the other half of the noble dead in Valhalla.


Tea and toast

Woke up just after three after a restful sleep. Three kudos on my dashboard this morning. Always fun to see what people are reading. Another person has subscribed to my mailchimp account for UPSUN as well. In addition I logged into dreamwidth (the ‘replacement’ for live journal for people who don’t want all their data stolen by the Russians) because I really wanted to read something one of my filk buddies has posted and …. I hadn’t posted since 2018. uff dah. I posted. It was sad having to mention that Tom had died.

Worked on the fanfic a bit, not much. In the portion I just wrote one of the brothers is teasing the other about his new relationship and I very much enjoyed writing that because one of the great wellsprings of Supernatural fanfic is the abiding love (and shittalk) between the bros… it’s very easy to write the shittalk because they are constantly teasing each other (and would die for each other).

Still not experiencing hunger and thirst properly. It’s very strange to be forcing myself to eat, unless it’s something sweet.

The wind is gusting hard and it makes the plastic siding creak in an alarming way.

Ryker’s got a mucousy cold, poor wee tyke. Alex is a snot factory whether he has a cold or not. Just sayin’.

Had to shovel again; the lack of walkway salt was mitigated by the fact that it started raining and melting, so we didn’t get freezing rain. Lawks that was one big raccoon we got through the property night before last though, HUGE pawprints.

It’s very pleasant to no longer be required to run a heater all night in my room. It’s quite pleasant in the house now.

Well, I boiled water but I haven’t made tea, and the toast is still waiting for my work, so time for some foodicles and to start my day. FIRST TASK. Wrestling my weighted blanket back into its cover. This will literally take me half an hour as it’s like a USB cable. First you attach the WRONG zipper, and then you attach the RIGHT ONE, IN THE WRONG DIRECTION, and then omg maybe THIS will work. Heavy sigh. Still haven’t put all my clothes away.

This morning my twitter feed is full of: Trans people commenting (still) on Matrix Resurrections, including the best tweet sized appreciation of it I’ve seen so far; disabled people saying CAN YOU PLEASE STOP TRYING TO KILL US BY NOT WEARING MASKS AND SHITTY POLICY; Glenn Greenwald, may the great Parent of the Universe buy him a fucking clue, saying how twitter doesn’t have the right to eject people from its platform cause free speech, when it’s already been established that it really isn’t. He’s defending Marjorie, by the way. Candidly, clownbag is too kind for that man.

The Cincinnati Beagles won the division (over KC). We did not see that coming. It was a weird game with some patently ugly and bad calls. I mean, how many times is it possible to repeat 4th down?


i understand finding matrix 4’s lack of subtlety grating but i would never wanna use metaphors again either if the metaphorical allegory i wrote before got co-opted by far right patriarchal fascists whose whole thing is to eradicate my entire people