Author: Allegra

It is my vocation to prognosticate, and poorly, and so it was, as it has often been, in my life.

I have nothing but the present. I turned the heat off in the room when I left this morning, and so instead of a benign warmth I have come to sleep in a pile of chilly bedclothes.

Tammy and I reviewed various portions of festive Vancouver, had one spectacular meal in the middle (and thank you Tammy, it was wonderful to eat Exactly the Same Food as You – that being my preference and it was a lovely lovely Christmas gift.) (Thanks also for my entrance fee. I found another ten in my pocket after you paid my way in and I felt fretful about it. Then I thought about the manuscript I owe you.) It was fun watching you drink a flight of beer.           I think we walked about as much as we wanted to.

Tammy’s mother’s condo is beautiful and her mother’s boyfriend’s condo would have made Philip of blessed memory chortle as being the perfect little pied à terre, a cheerful airy bachelor apartment with a lot of art and a few cool books and not overstuffed. Eclectic. Representations of the nude female form were interesting and tasteful, although of course I’d pardon an original Vargas were man of seventy to hang one on his wall. Frezetta too okay whatevs, shut up, I can hear the male gaze lashcrack e’en now.

I do like wandering around Granville Island. I nearly bought a sugar skull lamp but was dissuaded by its flimsiness. I’m glad I didn’t.

Modern Christian Christmas music (ie FELONIOUS PAP) at the goddamned Winter Market. I assume they were performing in a tower to prevent Vancouverites in attendance from returning the auditory assault with a physical one.

I have slowly learned something. It’s enough to be able to walk around and look, with a friend, and not have a plan. I want to think I might enjoy wanting things. At the same time, I want fewer and fewer material things and more and more the troubling unquantifiables, whose existence in life stretches and contracts and reforms during crisis events (deaths, and other terminations) and longer term realizations that sneak up frequently but look different every time, like how you come to understand how old friends and siblings can be so important to your sense of self, your sense of interpersonal propriety, of who you are. Then you are completely forgetting that and going hunh! well holy shit, when you come across it from another angle.

I feel like Penelope but the loom is my brain and what’s woven is memory.

There’s something thoughtful and protoplasmic about family relationships in settler subcultures and first nations families percolating in my brain.

no waords tidday no dulcimer

Oh John Scalzi thank you for the blog post idea. A CLIP SHOW brOJeff says NO COURTROOM SCENES because unless it was the Good Wife all courtroom scenes officially suck and I will never write a courtroom scene unless I GET ALL THE MONEYS YOLANDI.

Essentially sometime between now and New Year I’ll do a post of my best posts from 2017. That should be like three items but damn it’ll be fun researching it and running my fingers over a truncated rosary of happy memories. FOR SCIENCE and LAZINESS and may they have many fat children.

I see Tammy tomorrow! yay! we’re going to wander around Granville Island on the second worst shopping day of the year but secretly we’re going there so I can find out if there’s a toy that would please darling Alex. After, we’re going to some queer cinema if I can arrange it and I guess sushi if not.

Today I should do something, but I have the feeling my gumption machine is needing service.

Many thanks to Katie, Paul and Keith (& Alex) for noms and hosting last night. It was a traditional Caspell dins with a fresh turkey (wonderful sausage stuffing), mashed potatoes, mashed turnips and carrots, cranberry sauce and brussels sprouts. BrOJeff and Rob Warner also joined us, who was wearing a very festive hat and suspenders and brought tales of Solstice cheer. It was a happy and lowkey meal and I have to thank Katie for making a spectacular bird, which is now resting comfortably in the souppot here. It was so beautiful I took a picture of it, but that was also to commemorate that it was in Granny’s roasting pan which is still chugging along, having seen many roasts come and go over the last 75 years.

How could I forget the gravy?

Job interview isn’t happening this morning. I’m almost glad, I still feel stuffed from last night.

Jeff and I are invited to feast at Planet Bachelor (I decided not to change the name) for the solstice / xmas tonight. I shall contact Katie later to get my instructions about what to bring.

Paul dropped by last night to give Katie some space and ended up crashing here until about 2:30.

Passport filling out crap today.

23665 word count

So, as any poor sap that follows me knows, I am writing science fiction novels. One of the central tenets of writing is that you have a plot before you start. I don’t have a plot, I have a life arc. George is an earth born alien who wants to be in space and can’t get there without human help – or so he thinks. Upsun novels will follow his attempts and failures to get to space while all kinds of other shit happens.

One of the kinds of other shit is the ongoing difficulty the scientists are having figuring out how sixers, who have soft bodies, can be so dreadfully hard and durable. What are they made of?   Yay science. This can be part of the handwavey bits.

Learned that the same production team that did Orphan Black is going to do the Fionavar Tapestry. That should be really fun.

No writing yesterday, I’m a lazy swine. I did get my passport pics. I have printed out the application.

Katie GOT A JOB a decent paying job. She starts in the new year.

I’m thrilled for her.

Goijng into New Westminster to see if somebody who answered my craigslist ad will make music with me. Pretty much expecting to get stood up, but after last night’s amazing filk at Cindy’s place I don’t feel sad; I had more praise for my songwriting talent in 2 hours than I normally get in a year. And people who know my songs were looking smug, that was fucking hilarious on its own.

Cindy was in glorious voice and she forced me to sing Lady of Komarr the bad gal when I had no frickin lyrics.

I have decided to name one of the chapters in Honey on the Moon “swerving cars taking heavy fire” just so I can make myself another awesome action scene – done the way I like it. I think …. I think Michel and Kulwant should be in that scene, dunno why. Maybe coming back from the port? mmmm

Wrote about 500 words so far today but I haven’t typed them in so I didn’t add them to the total yet.

Ate fresh bean curd for the first time last night at Queen Café, it was superb, and the stone bowl rice and seafood was NOM.

Had the tolerably yucky experience of accompanying Katie and Alex to the custody handoff with Daxus and got the finger from him, so I guess he read my blog post bwa ha ha.

Mike is hanging on. There’s nothing like nearly getting yourself fired a year ago for how vehement you were about a problem and then being forced to go fix it the week before Christmas, as may happen to the lad. Damn those fucking managers, they are so goddamned incompetent.

Keith had an accident and may be concussed. His dad’s gonna look after him and I don’t know what that means about me getting to the housefilk at Shad’s tonight.

“Let your penis do the driving and you’re sure to get in shit.” Jeff’s current take on the culture wars.

I am writing right now but I thought I’d break off and post the above noted.

That was at 655 and now 23128 is the new word count woo hooooooo OPERATION DESERVE GREEN TEA ICE CREAM IS COMPLETE.

Off in a few minutes to run errands.

If I talk about how I was treated during the eye exam yesterday it’ll look bad, so let me just very lightly touch on how FUCKING HORRIBLE IT WAS and how if it wasn’t for the fact Paul and I got a tour of Keith’s workplace I’d be giving names and details and spitting pure fucking fire. I’ll be going back to Hakim in future, thanks.

but no. For my son, I hold my cakehole shut. And, there’s the small not not insignificant fact that if I hadn’t paid for the eye exam I wouldn’t have anything like the right prescription. In a year it’s shifted a quarter diopter on one side and half a diopter on the other so WHY WAS I SQUINTING oh…y es…

I’ll get my new glasses in January; I asked for all kinds of specialty coatings so fourteen days turns into next year. Have to drive out to fucking Langley to get it too… but it’s obvious now why Keith bought a car.

Then Paul and I hung out for a while and talked family business. He’s apparently going to go to Seattle for a couple of days midweek and then come back for Shad’s musical event on Saturday.

Experimentally drank a beer last night. Burst into a sweat, instantly sleepy, gas pain this morning. Took another probiotic. Nope, no beer for me.

However…. Katie came over yesterday and for a tank of gas helped me unclutter the LR and kitchen. Results are amazing – no more cat puke on the parquet, for starters, and there’s enough room in there now to do yoga, how bizarre, and I don’t believe the kitchen floor’s been that clean since we moved in.

Today I’m going to get my eyes tested and new lenses made since Keith is all a-twitchy over my scratched up lenses. Hope there’s some lunch in there too.

I’m really really happy with my kids right now.

Communicated with Mike. I feel for him; he’s not enjoying his December, let’s put it like that.

Did not get the really amazing job. More comment would be unwise.

The Canadian style racist won over the American style racist in the Georgia senate race. Seein’ as how it was a massive get out the black and progressive vote effort that tipped the scales, and that without black voters a win for Jones would be impossible, it would be really pleasant if the Democrats started centering BIPOCs in their strategies instead of hectoring them for not voting or not voting progressive.  The crap I’ve seen on twitter makes me want to take a leisurely three beer piss on the racist asshats in the Democratic party. We know the Repulsigans are awful already…

Jeff and I, hearing that there is a new Timmy Ho’s in the ‘hood walked over there and back just now. I had a sausage on English muffin and a double double and Jeff had a long slug of decaf (for the smell) and some donut or other. Generally the donuts give me migraines so I stay off them.

I’m thrashing back and forth between Varisha and Raven scenes in HOTM right now, and of course the fic I’m charging hardest on right now is eating my brain. I am about to run two conversations concurrently to comedic effect.

Still coming up with different ways to play Angry Chicken/Massed Kazoos/When I Am Dead, and Jeff supports this endeavour by wearing headphones and being long-suffering, the first by choice and the second by temperament.