Category: Art

pictures

a small white boy plays with two purple shaker eggs

there’s the little boy I love. He got bigger, and he’s still loveable playing with shaker eggs like a true filkkid. There’s the houseplant Jeff’s kept alive for decades, which continueth. There’s a rondel of art created by Alex. There are the kazoos we both still play. There’s the fabric curtain I made to keep flies out in the summer time. There’s the Guatemalan fabric bag Catherine gave me two decades ago. There are the chairs we got from Granny’s estate. There’s the expensive cat food Jeff feeds Buster. There’s the table I bought at IKEA when Jeff and I moved in together. There’s the place where Margot used to sit. There’s the place I hide Halloween candy.

There he is again, playing Xenon.

There he is with Margot in the background.

No kudos, no increase in wordcount.

Up early

Somebody put a clue about wordle on twitter this morning so I got it in two tries, my best showing in ages. Can’t win without cheating, sounds like capitalism.

My anxiety quieted briefly yesterday but it’s back and sky high. When Katie phoned me yesterday to tell me that I could come visit I told her to lie down and sleep. So she did.

No kudos, a teensy bit of writing, much thinking.

 

—later – one kudo, on the pandemical romance

 

r/onguardforthee - The don't have to make it their whole personality

 

 

background work

side by side a ukrainian soldier defends a pram, a russian soldier shoots at one
48 days into the war

Still adjusting to the meds change; I appear to be somewhat more diurnal, as I slept from 8 until 5:30 this morning. Jeff and I are going to go see the mini vampires at some point this week, and then I’m spending the day at Caspell Junction on Thurdsay, and also at some point we should shop as we are actually OUT OF some things and there’s always more toilet paper. (Constant readers will note that I buy more toilet paper than is required because I’m afeared to not have enough in a true emergency.)

IT FUCKING SNOWED yesterday it’s all gone but even though they warned us it was most unpleasant, and Buster was unimpressed as hell.

New word: Nexterday for tomorrow, invented by some kid whose parent reported it on twitter.

Now that we have CRAVE we’re getting the ads for show renewals and Jeff was so happy to see the ads for the Flight Attendant, which is a show he wouldn’t have watched if Dave hadn’t recommended it, so that was a nice little frisson of connection.

No kudos, no progress on the story. All my mental work on the story is managing the “I’m more into you than you’re into me and it’s breaking me” part of it, plus working the ‘gay guy’s straight friend’ into it because the idea of a fairly uptight gay man getting romantic advice from his sassy-pants straight friend is too much for me to dodge, it’s just so up-to-drip and tropey. Also I want two men who aren’t romantically involved to talk about sexual assault. I mean I’m not going for maximum damage but our hero is pretty messed up and he needs someone to tell him that a very common response to sexual assault is hypersexualization. The first time I heard that I went BULLSHIT but apparently it’s a mechanism whereby you reestablish control over, and agency over, your own body and while it just seems wrong from my lived experience, thousands of hours of research don’t lie.

Got wordle in three today, I’ll post it for tomorrow because I found the word combo weirdly funny.

Have some ice, from Iceland. It was just above freezing, the rain was coming sideways, and the biggest of those chunks of ice is about four metres across. And yet the curlews were on the beach trying to make a living. Four years ago now. I occasionally remember aspects of this trip as if I were still there. How I wish I could go again. It felt like part of my home on earth. But as mentioned I’m never getting on a jet again.

another lovely day

Briefly:

a shopping expotition; the longest walk Paul and I have done in months; a lovely meal at Phó Edmonds.

Re: the shopping expotition DO NOT LIKE SHOPPING WITH NO MASKS but at least it’s an environment in which one does not experience harassment for wearing one, so that’s a plus. Also, we go first thing in the morning and we don’t both go in. It’s annoying that we can’t get the Ritter Sport MINT chockie square any more but they support the Russian invasion, so NOPE.

Jeff made sliced roast beef sliders for a snack in the evening, they were so good.

Midmorning Paul called and wanted to go for a walk, and it was an exquisite day, so Paul said he wanted a change of scene and to go back to Deer Lake Park. I wanted to go in case the snakes were out. It took quite a while to remember where the hell we’d seen them before but after scrambling up the bank I remembered… and then in my triumph I stomped too close to where the little beggars were and three of them all raced off back into their den. Biggest was maybe 16 inches, the rest smaller, all garter snakes.

The brilliant yellow of the skunk cabbage was everywhere in the low lying parts, and the birds were making a wonderful racket. Too early for frogs, no interesting mammals.

After, I had the number 32 at the Phó Edmonds (it was absolutely succulent, and the egg was perfect – and I don’t know how they make the vinaigrette for the carrots but damn that was good too) and Paul had a wrap and an order of their really nice spring rolls. We tried to go to Mezze, the relatively new Uyghur restaurant first, but they don’t open until 4 (and stay open until 8 – I have to assume that they do a roaring catering trade!)

The rest of the day I was quite lazy because hey I walked 2.5 km (we rested plenty)

No kudos, word count now 8131 so yes, I also wrote yesterday.

I spoke to Katie and she approved the pics, so….

Yes, that is the debris from a Mickey D’s brekky that Katie had delivered so my mother got exposed to her first egg mcfuffin and apple pie and hash browns and my father got a mocha and an apple pie for breakfast. For reasons best known to themselves they sent an additional pancake breakfast and that got et, too. I have to say that McDonald’s coffee has achieved an unlikely inversion of glory. From having the worst coffee of any chain, it’s now damned close to being the best and it’s definitely on a par or even better than Timmy Ho’s. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there you go.

I have to respond to the jury duty summons that appeared in the mail on Tuesday. GRRR GRRR. I’ve been joking about appearing at the summons half naked (I’ll get arrested even if it’s legal) or declaring that it’s MST land! and the justice apparatus has no legitimacy here! but I think I’ll just get a note from my doctor saying that I have holes caused by strokes in my cerebellum and I’m not fit for service.

what a day

My day started at a little after 1 am. I tried to keep as quiet as possible while I packed and showered and readied and flailed about in prep mode; I made salad for Jeff to put in wraps while I was gone; and finally at 5:45, just as promised Katie appeared with her two children and we roared off to the ferry.  I did not take any musical instruments, and given how little room there was in the car (Katie has a sizeable amount of mutual aid gear, rope, bungies & First Aid in the trunk) it was the right call.

We got a simply smashing view, as we closed the distance between us and Victoria, of the entitlement, skill-free behaviour and misunderstanding of how physics, especially inertia, works, thanks to our fellow Vancouver commuters. Seriously I don’t care that a recent survey found that Vancouver drivers were among the safest in Canada; Katie never cursed at anyone but she was left perplexed at a panoply of weirdass lane and speed changes in a most comical way.

Ryker, who as I perhaps have mentioned, farts like a much larger human, did himself JUST as we were supposed to get onto the ferry (it was a nail biter, since despite all Katie’s efforts we were ONE MINUTE LATE to get secured boarding, which is NOT going to happen on the way back) and there’s Katie, doing a thorough clean change while the loading starts, with the efficient and relaxed mien of someone who will not panic no matter how much her mother is encouraging her to. (I did not distinguish myself with my handwringing.)

Ryker doesn’t seem to consider coldness to be something to cry about. He is vigorous and happy even when he’s being changed at the ambient temperature of an April morning.

We stayed in the car for the crossing except I had to take Alex to the washroom once. If you’re a middle aged woman, hanging around the mens room door is not a fun place to be for five minutes, especially when part of the floor show is a pair of polished Instagram wannabes setting up shots of her midriff – and his I don’t know what – but they didn’t notice me gurning at them in the background so that was okay. I just told Alex about me making faces at them and we had a good laugh.

Ryker literally smiled the instant he saw pOp. Great moments in bein’ a grandma. My mother was cold with dread that he wouldn’t like her and of course that was the opposite of what happened. He scoped her out in seconds and then her arms got tired and she handed him back, a little dripping with happiness (and I’m like OH LOOK I’M ONE EIGHTH RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT CUTENESS the way I always insert myself into glory if I think I can get away with it.)

Garry and Dianne were here as well but I did not see them for their health and safety. I am sorry that our appearance put a spanner in their visit, but they’ll be back Wednesday.

I sold the SFF books for a reasonable price and met a simply lovely (masked) young man. Alex insisted on insinuating himself into the transaction and that was lovely too; always fun to show your SF drawings to people, right? So Michael found out about “Remain Indoors” my favourite of Alex’s drawings, which I brought with me to leave with the great grands. Transaction took place strictly outdoors, and I wrapped the books in a strip of cloth with busty ladies of classic SF on it and Michael immediately started figuring out where to stick it in his apartment, so that was both profitable and fun.

Alex has a Five Nights with Freddie plushie. It’s worth a young fortune by all accounts so he wrote his name on its ass and the idea that El Plusho got Alex’s name tattooed on his ass is very funny to me.

Alex is a big brother. He takes his responsibilities in his family extremely seriously and helps in material and emotional ways, all the time, without fanfare. I knew when I saw the picture of him holding baby Leo (Katie’s best friends second child – there are some names in our extended family that are just there! lol hope you’re reading this) that he would be a good big brother if he got the chance, but I really didn’t expect to be this impressed. He is completely attuned to his little brother’s state of being and he’s an enormous and consistent help to his mother.

And Ryker adores him. His smiles and wiggles as his brother holds, entertains and loves on him (and locates his soother) are balm for my wounded soul.

Today, ONTIE MARY oh lord. Haven’t seen her in at least three years, and we’ve been corresponding irregularly but amusingly (her last two letters had me slumped over the kitchen table, howling with laughter) so it will be most diverting to see her emerge from a taxi, fling books at her sister, fling something, I will be amused and amazed to see what, but probably books, at me, and then flee back into the taxi to Esquimalt.

Today, after Mary, there will be a trip to various countryside establishments for tea, and possibly at Alex’s request, a trip to the Butterfly House, and then home.

I am so happy. Nothing lasts, but I wrote it down, and I can go back to this whenever I like and remember something perfect and family and sweet, even as the world I grew up in dissolves in the acid of war and climate change. And we didn’t take any pictures, but neither did our ancestors, and they got along on their memories just fine.

 

 

 

immobilized

Slept most of the day yesterday. I think my eyes are so itchy from the incredibly high pollen counts that I slept in self defense. Once again missed the chance for a walk. Sleeping during the day is not a good sign when you’re my age – dementia is calling! However I do run cognitive tests on myself every day and I seem to be about the same.

1368 words so far, rum has entered the chat. Two kudos this morning.

Russians have started deporting Ukrainians to Russia. Just in case this wasn’t clear, deporting civilians during wartime RILLY looks a lot like GENOCIDE.

Clean sheets really are a beautiful thing. I also washed the cover for the bolster. I am so happy I figured out how to keep both ends of the bolster closed without having to do any sewing. I tie a knot in both ends, it’s that simple. If I don’t, the pillows the bolster is stuffed with come barfing out, usually in the middle of the night. waaa what dat noise… oh.

I am adding words to Bih-Bah, my conlang made out of basketball hoop noises. I always add words during March Madness, when it’s nonstop games for days at a time.

I should go downstairs and let Buster out. He asked to have the door locked last night but he prob’ly wants to pee.

A Katie halloween costume from days of yore

My what big green eyes you have

New do

 

B-Bombshell took good care of me. The gal who sheared me was an absolutely lovely person and we cracked each other up, it was a jolly time. (I went to Big Star for lunch first, got the number 27 small, shoved half in my bag to take home for Jeff, I do believe Jeff enjoyed the crispy onions. Nearly died when JJ Cale’s ‘Travelling Light’ came on the sound system, I haven’t heard that song in 30 years if it’s a day (bugeyes))

They have a reading area that is NOTHING BUT CONTEMPORARY LARGE FORMAT COMICS and I read an entire Groot special while I was waiting because I was early. B-Bombshell specialize in loud hair but I am only going to get my hair dyed if I’m nommed for an SF award. I’m sitting in bed under a fluorescent light and I still manage to look okay, so I’m happy.

Still laughing to myself about how the precut looked like several dead tribbles on the floor….

Dr. Appt Tomorrow

Today another day of loafing and lazing in lower lalaland.

Ate my leftovers for breakfast, so nommy.

Mike and Jeff and I watched The King’s Man and HOLY JEEZ Rhys Ifans as Rasputin is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. He fights while doing cossack style ballet kicks (obvs not him, some poor body double sod) and the whole ‘he was very hard to kill’  story gets THE FULL TREATMENT like shitbag he was extremely hard to kill. Anyway I think I had to be in the right mood to watch it and I was, because despite it being ahistorical and goofy as anything it was very entertaining and surprisingly well written and didn’t fall down in the fourth act.

Also the montage ‘once there were three cousins who ended up being the leading rulers in Europe’ really makes you think about the Great War in different terms.

There is a lot of fighting and there is a goat. Jeff called the goat’s behaviour well in advance, but that wasn’t too hard. There’s also a sequence that will not leave you feeling great about the safety of elevators that go by hand crank up a massive cliff side (the dialogue of the poor schmo stuck in it is classic).

This is a graphic of the Peacemaker dance. If you don’t know what that is or why it’s important to the ‘me’, relax. It’s just a dance.

I have guitar strings!

So I picked up mando and guitar strings yesterday, which is good, because when I play “Gelis and Niccolo” I am pulverizing my guitar strings, which start to blister and unwind and go dead. So I shall take the guitar tool which the esteemed M. Mike provided and change my guitar strings with speed and ease. Also Otto’s strings because he sounds deader than Beethoven right now.

I actually picked up the ukelele yesterday and played for a while!

Buster is PISSSSSED that he can’t go outside. Then he cries like a sad kitten, it’s heartwrenching. But he’s still covered in scabs from his last failure to carry the field, and he cost Daddy somewhat with this last ear ding, so we are being brutal and keeping him in. We may break out the catnip just to keep him vivified.

After some very disturbed sleep and a lot of napping I seem to be back diurnal, sleeping until four in the morning YAY. I don’t like it when Jeff and I are out of sync, even when he’s working it’s like we don’t talk for a day and all of a sudden we’re eating supper in front of Elementary….

The kitchen is a nightmare but I can’t find the energy to clean it. (actually I just emptied the dishwasher and threw out the cruft, but that doesn’t make a visible dent lol)

Fed Paul and Jeff pulled pork sammies on brown buns, smashed taters and green beans for lunch yesterday. Paul and I went for a brief walk and toured around and got veggies and went to the guitar shop. I drove.  Although I have not spoken to Keith, Paul reports that he’s loving his new job. This heartens me; his recent previous brief foray into employment left him quite disgusted with the state of employers, like that is hard these days.

Arrests have commenced in Ottawa; when the aptly named Lich was arrested and went on social media to complain about how the jig was up I really enjoyed that.

Duly noted here is the dubious morality under which I may be said to enjoy the arrest of the people who’ve been making Centertown unliveable for three fucking weeks (as of today), when I have repeatedly (in this venue and others) stated that I am an abolitionist, and wish for the amelioration and end of incarcerated punishment, except where no acceptable community alternative is possible. I am still the child my parents raised and I enforce the carceral state in my life and my mind and with my words and actions, but I am trying very hard to turn from such darkness.

I would like to state here that at all times during the last 3 weeks the cops in Ottawa have had ALL THE LEGAL DEVICES THEY NEED TO CLEAR THE STREETS and they didn’t because AND YOU KNOW WHY, DON’T YOU, MR. JONES. Anyway there’s something called a riot act. The activities downtown WERE and ARE a riot. FUCK THE GUY ON REDDIT WHO SAID IT DIDN’T MEET THE CRITERIA, HE WAS A FOOL AND WRONG ANYWAY.

Not only is this political cartoon one of the weirdest and creepiest I’ve ever seen, it would get me pushed out a window in Russia and disappeared for three months of reeducation and weight loss in China, possibly longer than that. @listen_to_me is the source on twitter; it’s a cyrillic alphabet account I accessed through following @alexey__kovalev, an absolutely hilarious giant-testicled Russian journalist who keeps running afoul of Putin and his slavering minions.

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